Page 4 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

“I don’t know how it happened,” I said finally. “Our marriage lasted a few months. Most of it felt like war. But somewhere in the middle of the chains, the silence, the sick games... my heart stopped resisting. I didn’t even notice when it started to want him.”

Ethan exhaled through his nose. “That’s what makes it harder. When the monster doesn’t feel like a monster all the time.”

I turned to him. “You think I’m sick in the head for still... feeling anything?”

“No,” he said. “I think you’re human. And probably stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I sniffed, wiping at my cheeks. “Do you think I’ll ever be normal again?”

“Charlotte,” he said, and finally reached out—gently placing his hand over mine. Not possessive. Not pitiful. Just... warm. “You’re not broken. You’re recovering. And you’re not alone.”

A sob slipped out before I could stop it.

“I just want it all to stop. I want to forget him. I want to stop seeing his face every time I close my eyes.”

He nodded. “That’s normal.”

“I want him to come back and fix it,” I added in a whisper. “And I want him to stay the hell away from me forever. I want both at once, and I hate myself for it.”

Ethan gave a sad smile. “Sounds about right.”

“If I had a gun, I’d put a bullet between Grayson’s eyes,” I said, voice trembling with rage.

“If he wanted to punish me, he should’ve sent me to prison.

At least there, I’d know who I was. But that place.

.. that psych ward? He didn’t just lock me up—he tried to erase me. Make me doubt my own mind.”

My fingers curled into fists. The air around me felt suffocating.

Ethan didn’t flinch. He sat still, eyes steady on mine. “Grayson’s been looking for you ever since you disappeared from that place. But you’re safe here, Charlotte. My system’s locked tighter than the Pentagon. Not even the FBI could trace you.”

There was a flicker of pride in his voice, a quiet confidence built from years of outsmarting systems bigger than himself.

I exhaled shakily and looked away.

For a while, we sat in silence. Just breathing. Just existing.

Then, Ethan stood and brushed the dust off his jeans. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s find something to watch. Something dumb. Something that doesn’t make you feel like the world’s ending.”

I hesitated. “I don’t even know what kind of movies I like anymore.”

He looked at me with patience. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

He offered me a hand, and I took it—grateful for the steady anchor in someone who wasn’t trying to own me, just help me stand.

He guided me gently to the couch.

“I’ll grab something,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he returned with two mismatched bowls of popcorn. He handed me one without a word, then we sat on separate ends of the couch, the space between us deliberate, comfortable.

The screen flickered with light, but I wasn’t watching.

I kept glancing at Ethan. At how calm he looked, how gentle. Why was he doing this? Was it really just about high school? A memory of kindness I’d long forgotten?

He caught me looking. “Just so you know,” he said, “I’m not here to catch feelings. My heart’s been broken enough to last me a few lifetimes. I don’t sleep with married women, and I don’t want anything from you. This isn’t that.”

I nodded slowly. “So why are you helping me?”

He leans back, smiling faintly. “You forgot high school? You were my shield, Charlotte—saved my ass from bullies, stood up for me when no one else did. I don’t forget that.

I just want you to feel safe here. If you ever want to go back to him, just say it.

I’ll call him.” His voice is gentle, steady, the bullied nerd now my savior.

“Can I...” I hesitated, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Can I get a hug?” I whisper, almost crying, the irony sharp—the boy I protected now protecting me.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

I stood, walking toward him, and he opened his arms. I leaned in, resting my head against his shoulder, my chest against his, his scent clean, like soap and coffee, comforting but not alluring. The hug wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sexual. It was warm. Platonic.

Then his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

But it buzzed again. Louder. Longer. More insistent.

He pulled away slowly, his expression hardening as he checked the screen.

“What is it?” I asked, sensing the shift in his energy.

His eyes scanned the message. Then he went still. “Cassian... he hacked into my system.”

“What?”

“He’s watching us, Charlotte. He sent a screenshot of this room. Said the next time I touch you, I’m dead.”

I froze. “You’re joking.”

“He said he’s got a sniper on the building. That if I so much as hug you again, I’ll bleed out before I hit the ground.”

My stomach twisted.

“Cassian’s watching us?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

Ethan nodded, his jaw tight. “There’s no mistaking it.”

He strode to the wall-mounted camera in the corner. “This shouldn’t be possible. No one’s ever cracked this system—not the FBI, not black-hat hackers. It’s been fortified six ways from Sunday.”

“But Cassian did.”

He didn’t answer. Just grabbed a screwdriver and ripped the camera from the wall.

He storms outside, his lanky frame tense, and I follow, my bare feet cold on the concrete, my sweats flapping in the night air.

We stand outside his loft, the quiet streets stretching dark, no hotels, just brownstones and parked cars. Ethan scans left and right, his glasses glinting. “He’s not gone,” he mutters. “He’s close.”

“Can I talk to him?” I asked.

He hesitated, then handed me his phone. “Be careful.”

I called the number that had just sent the text.

It rang once. Then—

“You’ve got your arms crossed,” Cassian said. “You’re nervous. But still beautiful.”

My throat closed.

“I meant what I said, Charlotte,” he went on. “You really think just because I walked out that door, I’d stop watching? You think I’d leave you unguarded again?”

“This isn’t protection. This is surveillance,” I snapped. “You can’t stalk me.”

“I’m keeping eyes on what belongs to me,” he said calmly. “That’s not stalking. That’s responsibility.”

“You’re not my keeper anymore.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I’m still your husband. And that boy inside? The one touching you? That ends now.”

“He’s not touching me like that,” I hissed. “He’s helping me—because you’re the reason I needed help in the first place.”

“You’re confusing comfort with safety,” Cassian said, his voice cooling to ice. “I’ve looked into him. There’s no history between you two. It’s just friendship—for now. But if that changes... if he even thinks about crossing that line, I will put him down.”

I covered my mouth, bile rising in my throat. “Cassian, you’re sick.”

“I’m obsessed,” he corrected. “Don’t twist it into something weaker than it is.”

I stood in the middle of the driveway, turning in slow circles, trying to see him—on a roof, behind a tree, in a passing car. But there was nothing. Just empty space and the cold press of his voice in my ear.

“You need help,” I whispered.

“So do you,” he said. “We’re both damaged. You think I don’t know that? But damaged doesn’t mean disposable. I told you—I’m not losing you again. So if I have to track your every move to keep you safe, I will.”

“I need privacy, Cassian. I need peace.”

“You want peace with another man’s eyes on you? With his hands anywhere near your skin?” His voice dipped lower. “No. Not while I’m still breathing.”

“You can’t earn my forgiveness like this.”

“Forgiveness isn’t my priority. You are. Forgiveness can come later—after I’ve kept you alive.”

“Alive?” I echoed. “No one’s killing me!”

“Your father tried. That ward nearly succeeded. You think I’m the danger? I’m the only reason you’re still here.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m determined,” he said coldly. “And if you care at all about that boy’s life—keep him at a distance. Don’t test me, Charlotte.”

I was shaking.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“Say it first,” he said.

“Say what?”

“That you miss me.”

I stared into the darkness, into the quiet street that now felt like it belonged to him. And I hated that I couldn’t say the truth. That part of me still ached for him in ways that felt like sickness.

Instead, I whispered, “Go to hell.”

Then I hung up.

The phone trembled in my hand. I stared at it like it might burn me.

Ethan was already walking toward me. “Did he say anything threatening?”

“Yes,” I said. “Everything out of his mouth felt like a threat.”

Ethan didn’t argue. He looked at me for a long second, like he was trying to figure out what part of me Cassian had already broken. Then he nodded slowly, stepped forward, and reached for the door.

But I didn’t move.

I stood there, frozen, staring into the empty street beyond us.

The silence wrapped around me like a shroud.

I wasn’t alone anymore.

And somehow, that terrified me more than the solitude ever had.