Page 3 of Deceptive Vows (Bound by Vows #3)

Chapter Two

NAZAR

Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out of the SUV.

My hand hovered over the holster hidden beneath my suit coat as I turned, taking in the small, no-name town.

Shuttered businesses, a diner with a broken sign gently swaying in the breeze, and a buzzing neon sign hanging on the door of the only open business—a rundown bar.

Our driver, Ilya Poroshenko, knew to stay in the vehicle in case we needed to leave quickly.

I'd sent men ahead of us. Now unseen, I knew they were surrounding the place. Likely, Moretti had done the same .

This meeting with Don Marco Moretti was supposed to be friendly since we'd been working with him for the last two months, but that didn’t mean it'd stay friendly.

" Prozrachnyy ," I said to Pasha Morozov, my Pakhan.

He joined me, adjusting his coat.

My man, Mick, took up the flank, hand on the grip of his gun.

We reached the door, and the hinges creaked as I pushed it open.

Inside, it felt about as lifeless as the rest of the town. The smell of stale beer and grease hit before I registered the low, amber lighting. A long bar was to the right with old lacquer coating the top. Cracked vinyl booths were to the left.

If I were to guess, the only reason this place had what little heartbeat it had was because it was the Don's favorite neutral meeting place.

A bartender in a black tank top and jeans nodded and quickly disappeared through a back door. More proof that the Don kept this place alive.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and thumbed the signal jammer on.

Pasha and I strode to the back corner booth that was half-shaded with an emergency exit close by.

My Pakhan slid in first and I followed.

"Marco will likely make an entrance," Pasha spoke low.

I nodded. In the few months we'd worked for the Don, he'd shown a flair for the theatrical.

A few minutes later, the door creaked again and Marco Moretti entered.

He was squat and beefy. Thick through the middle with the kind of belly that came from eating well and lifting nothing heavier than a fork.

His suit was dark and tailored, the lapel of his coat slightly bulged where a holster might sit.

The signet ring on his right hand glinted as he adjusted his cuff.

Three men flanked him—two in front, one behind. All looked like ex-military, middle-aged, and dangerous. One stayed at the entrance. The next peeled off to stay at the bar, and the last took up a position by the bathroom hallway, blocking the back.

Marco didn’t acknowledge them. Didn't need to.

“Mr. Morozov." He gave Pasha a nod before turning his gaze on me. "And Mr. Volkov. It's good to finally meet."

Pasha returned the nod. "Likewise."

The Don eased into the booth. "I appreciate you coming all this way. I prefer meetings in places where the walls don't talk."

For a man who was supposedly on the run from his twin brother, he was remarkably relaxed. I kept that commentary to myself.

"The auction preparations are progressing," Marco continued, folding his hands on the table. "But there's another issue I need handled. One that's costing me time, money, and patience."

"We're listening," Pasha replied.

“The Kalantzis family has been a thorn in my side. Five siblings. United, coordinated, problematic. They’ve disrupted shipments, interrogated— killed —my men, and three weeks ago, they intercepted a container with twenty women. Women who were already sold.”

Two months . The realization crashed through me. We'd been facilitating this… Every security protocol I'd designed, every entrance I'd secured, every safeguard I'd recommended… all of it had been to ensure Marco could traffic women more efficiently.

Pasha and I remained neutral, but I knew my friend. He'd lost the love of his life to trafficking twenty years ago. Rada. He'd even talked of leaving the Bratva for her. I'd envied their love. My friend never recovered. If it felt like a physical blow to me, I could only imagine how it hit Pasha.

“Elite girls. High yield. This wasn’t some street-level scrape. These were million-dollar clients." Marco's lips twisted into a snarl. "And those siblings made me look weak.”

“Which means the auction you’ve been securing…” Pasha let the sentence hang.

Marco jerked his gaze to Pasha. "Yes. Women—is that a problem?"

" Nyet ." Pasha's voice was firm. "We don't care about what's being sold. We're here to do a job."

Marco studied us for a long moment, as if weighing the truth behind our words. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Good. I can't afford moral complications, not with the Kalantzis family breathing down my neck. That's why I need them eliminated. Permanently. I believe it could serve both our interests."

"We're listening," Pasha said.

The Don ran his fingers over his signet ring. " In return for your services, you gain part of their territory."

"What sort of timeline are you talking?"

We'd already discussed the auction taking place between Christmas and New Year's to conceal any high-profile clients who might be attending. What better excuse to be in Chicago than the coming holiday?

Marco leaned back. "As soon as possible. They seem to anticipate my moves. I believe you'll have an advantage since they don't know you." He shrugged. "Plus, it'll give you a reason to be in Chicago other than providing security for me."

My friend took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. "That's quite the undertaking."

"Yes, but based on our current working relationship, I believe your organization is well suited for it." Marco's expression grew calculating. "If we can agree on terms, would you take the job?"

“We will need to consider it and the complications it could present.” Pasha gestured toward me.

Marco’s jaw tightened, a flicker of impatience breaking through his polished exterior. “I’d prefer an answer now.”

Pasha didn’t flinch under Marco’s gaze. “Rushed decisions lead to costly mistakes, Don Moretti. You contacted Krysha because you wanted precision, not recklessness.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the tabletop. "And what about trust? You’re asking me to gamble on your process while the Kalantzis family continues undermining me.”

My friend and Pakhan tensed. “Trust is earned, Don Moretti. And you’ll see it in our results. You said yourself, the Kalantzis family won’t expect us. That’s your advantage. Let us make sure we can give you what you’re asking before making a promise.”

A strained silence followed. Marco’s jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin pale line. He exhaled sharply and gave a short nod. “Fine. I want an answer by the end of the day tomorrow.”

The tension in Pasha’s shoulders seemed to lessen a fraction.

“For now, we’ll need full access to the information about the auction.

Nazar will coordinate directly with your people to ensure the auction proceeds without issue.

As for the Kalantzis family, any information you might have on them would be appreciated so we can get you that answer by tomorrow. ”

Marco hesitated, his sharp eyes darting between us before he relented. “I’ll have my men get you what you need.”

Marco stood abruptly and stalked toward the door, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. At the threshold, he paused and looked back, his expression a mix of suspicion and begrudging respect.

Pasha and I had plenty to discuss, and the Don’s additional request needed more than just a casual conversation.

"Women." Pasha cursed loudly as our car pulled away from the curb. "Had I known…"

Had either of us known.

I smoothed my hand down my beard and then pulled out my laptop from the Faraday cage I'd installed beneath the seat. After securing my connection, I began my due diligence on the Kalantzis family.

"Moretti was right. Five siblings—one being a woman, Thea. Greek. Lucas is the head." My fingers ran over the keyboard as I tapped into my go-to websites. "Until recently, they'd been rather low-key in their attacks against Moretti. It seems they had an infusion of cash earlier this year."

"Interesting."

With that website exhausted, I pulled up a couple more until I found something else. "Their youngest sister was killed five years ago, followed by their father. Not long after, the mother passed as well."

That was a lot of loss for such a short time.

"The business model shifted shortly after, moving away from strip clubs or anything to do with skin."

Pasha merely nodded as he absorbed the information.

Finally, I managed to break into some of the security cameras positioned around the West Loop area of Chicago.

My breath caught.

My friend looked at me, curiosity written on his face. "You found something else?"

Her. Thea Kalantzis. Of course her name would be Thea. A goddess of light. It was fitting. "The woman from the bar…"

Pasha turned to me, a knowing smile on his lips. "The beautiful woman with the knife skills? The one who had you humming “ Ty napyeval Ochi Chyornye ?"

I sighed. Black Eyes . A melody usually tied to a man admiring the beauty of a woman he loved. " Da ," I said just above a whisper.

She threw a knife with perfect accuracy, right into a man's throat, while he was abducting a woman. She'd known I was there too. I was certain of it. A woman this skilled didn't miss anything.

"And Marco wants her, and her family killed." Pasha's tone turned hard.

A battle waged between my head and my heart. Now that I knew what we were securing, I wanted to finish the job and wash my hands of Moretti. But… the woman.

"If we don't take the job, he'll just hire someone else to do it," I said.

Pasha and I sat in silence for a moment.

My mind raced with ideas. Ways we could potentially reach out to the Kalantzis family… possibly request a meeting. Maybe…

"What's the plan?"

"Plan?" I asked, looking at Pasha.

A smile tugged at his lips. "How long have we known each other?"

“Too long for me to lie to you.” I relented, exhaling. My fingers drummed against my knee as I admitted, "You'd need to talk to Lucas. Request a meeting. We could tell them about our meeting with Marco. Tell them about the auction…."

"And?"

"We give the illusion to Marco that you've offered an alliance through marriage to Thea. Assuming Marco doesn't want the church desecrated, we plan a hit for the reception. We tell him our men will surround the place, and we'll open fire. Done."

He chuckled. "I did say you should marry her…"

Despite myself, I laughed too, shaking my head at the joke from the night before. He always said I’d fall for the most lethal woman I could find.

It wasn’t about wanting to be with a killer. I needed someone who could take care of herself. This life, my life as a vor, was unforgiving.

My wife couldn’t be fragile, and she couldn’t be a liability. She needed to be my equal. A partner who could stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who could challenge me, strengthen me, and free my mind from the constant worry of whether she could survive my world.

" Nyet. She’s not the one.” I shrugged off the thought, checking my phone for updates on our Chicago arrangements and avoiding Pasha’s knowing gaze. “We both know now isn’t the time for relationships. I need to focus on the Gray Wolves when we’re back in New York.”

Pasha sobered. "All right. I'll see if I can get a last-minute meeting. Maybe you can find a carrot that will give us a better chance?"

" Da. "

Even as the word left my mouth, I wasn't thinking about strategy.

I was thinking about her.

The woman with the knife. Stunning and unflinching. The one who'd leveled a threat and followed through—all while knowing I was watching.

Now Marco wanted her dead.

And I'd just volunteered to walk into her life with a plan that included a show complete with a ring.

I should never have voiced the idea.

But I did… and now I had a feeling the victim would be me.