Page 39 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CASSIAN

The wind whipped across the tarmac of my private airstrip, as I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on Charlotte as she climbed the steps to the jet.

Her silhouette was a knife to my heart.

Brooks stood silent behind me, a shadow of loyalty, but his presence couldn’t dull the ache in my chest, a pain so raw it felt like my ribs were cracking.

She was leaving. Nine months, she’d said.

Nine months to heal, to find herself, to escape me.

But what if it was forever?

What if I never saw her again?

My hands trembled in my coat pockets. Every rejection, every glance of fear in her eyes, was a wound I couldn’t heal.

I’d broken her, and now she was slipping through my fingers, stepping into a jet that would carry her to a life I couldn’t touch.

My breath hitched, a ragged sound lost in the roar of the engines as they began to hum, the plane preparing to take her away.

“Charlotte,” I whispered, her name a prayer on my lips, barely audible as the jet’s door sealed shut with a final thud.

The sound echoed in my chest, a hollow drumbeat of loss.

She needed this—needed the space, the freedom, the chance to mend her shattered mind.

I knew about the suicidal thoughts, the self-harm, the way she hid her scars beneath padded bras and forced smiles.

I’d seen it all through the cameras I’d hidden in her room, watched her sleep like an angel while her waking hours were a battle against herself.

I’d given her this, a luxury I couldn’t afford, because I loved her more than my own life.

But letting her go felt like tearing out my own heart.

The jet rolled forward, its engines roaring as it surged down the runway, lifting into the dusk sky like a bird fleeing a cage.

My chest shattered, a visceral pain that made my knees buckle.

I gripped the railing beside me, my fingers digging into the cold metal, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

The plane’s lights blinked, growing smaller, fainter, until they were swallowed by the horizon.

My hope vanished with them.

I turned to Brooks, my voice barely controlled.

“What’s the update on my health?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, his eyes avoiding mine.

“Still three months, boss,” he said, his words hitting me like a storm, cold and relentless. “The doctor was clear. The cancer’s too aggressive. No extensions, no miracles.”

Three months.

Ninety days to live, to breathe, to fight.

Not enough time to see her return, to hold her again, to prove I could be the man she needed.

“There’s nothing I can do to stretch it to nine months?” I asked, my voice cracking, my hands clenching into fists. “Just to see her one more time before I close my eyes forever?”

Brooks shook his head, his voice low, heavy with regret. “I asked, boss. The doctor said it’s impossible. But everything you’ve done—the wars you fought, the deals you made, the blood you spilled—it was all for her. To keep her safe. She’ll realize it someday, the lengths you went to for her.”

I turned back to the empty sky, the horizon now a bruise of purple and gold, the jet long gone.

“No,” I said, my voice rising, a raw edge of desperation breaking through.

“No... no!” I shouted, my voice echoing across the tarmac, startling a flock of birds into flight.

“She’s not leaving me. Her last breath will be mine, and mine hers. I won’t let her go.” I turned to Brooks, my eyes blazing with a fire that burned hotter than my pain.

“Arrange a plane. I’m following her. I won’t show myself, won’t interfere. I’ll live those three months in the shadows, watching her, making sure she’s safe, happy, healing. I’ll be her ghost, Brooks, ensuring no one touches my woman.”

He stared at me, his expression torn between loyalty and concern.

“Boss, you can’t travel by air. The doctor said the altitude, the pressure—it could kill you faster. And the famiglia needs you. The truce with the Volkov Bratva is fragile, and Luca’s still out there, scheming through proxies.”

“Fuck the famiglia!” I roared, my voice raw, my hands shaking with fury. “Fuck the truce, fuck Luca, fuck my health! The only person who needs me is Charlotte. She’s my world, Brooks. Arrange the fucking plane. Now.”

He nodded, his face grim. “Got it,” he said, turning to leave, his boots crunching against the gravel as he headed toward the hangar without another word.

I stood alone on the tarmac, the wind tearing at my coat, my chest heaving as I stared into the sky where she’d vanished.

“I’m coming for you, Charlotte,” I whispered, my lips curling into a dark, determined smirk.

Not to control her, not to cage her, but to guard her from the shadows, to ensure every step she took was safe, every smile she found was real.

I’d be her unseen protector, her silent sentinel, even if it cost me the last breaths I had left.

She was my obsession, my redemption, my everything—and I’d follow her to the ends of the earth, whether she knew it or not.

The horizon glowed faintly, a promise of dawn, but all I saw was her—her face, her scars, her laugh that haunted my dreams.

Three months or nine, I’d fight for every second, not for myself, but for her. Because Charlotte was worth every drop of blood, every moment of pain, every shattered piece of my soul.

And as the hum of another jet’s engines stirred in the distance, I knew I’d never stop fighting for her, even if it meant stalking her from the shadows until my dying day.