Page 33 of Deceptive Vows (Bound by Vows #3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

NAZAR

Outside, snow began to fall, delicate flakes drifting lazily from a pearl-gray sky. Thea laughed as one landed on her lashes. Her joy at that moment was so genuine that it pierced my heart. The photographer captured the image—my bride’s face lifted to the winter sky, my eyes fixed only on her.

We moved toward the waiting car, accepting congratulations from guests who had spilled out onto the church steps.

Gabriele passed by, offering a cold smile. “Congratulations.” His voice was smooth with practiced charm. “A beautiful ceremony. ”

“Thank you for coming,” I replied evenly, my arm tightening protectively around Thea’s waist.

Ilya held the door as we slid into the back seat of the sleek black limousine. Thea arranged her dress carefully, the ivory silk pooling around her like water. As the door closed, I felt a momentary sense of peace—a brief sanctuary in the eye of the storm that surrounded us.

“Wife,” I said softly, testing the word on my tongue.

She turned to me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Husband.”

A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying lifted from my shoulders. Whatever came next, Marco, the Gray Wolves, the auction, we would face it together.

Her lips turned down and the momentary reprieve was over.

She turned her back to me, and glanced over her shoulder. "I need to get dressed."

Just as I went to help her with her dress, I realized something was wrong. We'd taken a slight deviation from the expected route.

I straightened, scanning the passing streets with growing unease.

“What is it?” Thea asked, instantly alert to the change in my posture.

“We’re heading west,” I said quietly.

The drive to the reception should’ve taken no more than ten minutes.

Her eyes narrowed as she verified my observation. “Lykos is east.” Without another word, she reached into her bodice, pulling out a slim blade.

I pressed the intercom button. “Ilya, you’ve made a wrong turn. The venue is in the opposite direction.”

No response. The privacy screen remained firmly in place.

"The driver is one of your guys?" Thea asked.

I nodded, jaw tight. "He's driven for us for years. I should have?—"

She shook her head. "Don't. Knowing Marco…"

"More likely the Gray Wolves," I growled. "He's as good as dead. Now that they know he can be bought, he's a liability. He'll be dead before we are."

I tried the door handle—locked. The windows, bulletproof by my own specification for the wedding transportation, wouldn’t lower .

“Panic switch,” I muttered, reaching beneath the seat—and froze.

It wasn’t there. Just smooth upholstery.

I met Thea’s gaze. “This isn’t one of our cars. It’s been switched." I unholstered my Makarov and checked the magazine. I also knew I wouldn't need to take revenge. The Wolves would take care of their own.

Her expression hardened as she processed the betrayal. "Who?"

"We'll find out when we get through that divider."

The car accelerated sharply, throwing us back against the seats. We were moving rapidly now, weaving through traffic with alarming speed.

I pulled my phone from my pocket with my free hand, finding no signal. “Jammer,” I reported grimly.

Thea was already checking the compartment divider, looking for weaknesses. “We need to break through.”

I examined the reinforced divider, recognizing that shooting in such a confined space would be too dangerous. The bullets could ricochet, potentially killing us both.

“Marco.” Thea’s expression hardened. “This has to be him. Taking matters into his own hands because you didn’t kill us as promised.”

“Or the Gray Wolves.” I tucked my gun into my waistband, maintaining quick access while freeing my hands. I removed my jacket, wrapping the fabric around my fist. “Cover your face."

If I could break through the divider, perhaps I could get to the driver.

The first blow against the partition yielded nothing. Nor did the second. The glass was reinforced—another specification I’d made. Whoever this was knew my protocols down to the smallest detail.

The car veered suddenly, taking a sharp turn onto a narrow side street flanked by abandoned warehouses. We were being taken toward the industrial district, away from witnesses.

The impact came without warning—a violent collision from the passenger side that sent the limousine skidding across lanes. Metal screamed against metal as we spun, the world outside becoming a blur of motion.

Thea was thrown against me, her small cry of surprise cutting through the chaos. I wrapped my arms around her instinctively, bracing us both as the vehicle careened out of control. Her blade clattered away, lost somewhere in the tumbling chaos.

The second impact was worse—a direct hit to the driver’s side that flipped the limousine onto its roof. We were thrown against the ceiling as the world turned upside down, the car sliding across the pavement in a shower of sparks.

When we finally came to a stop, silence fell like a physical weight. I was disoriented, my body pressed against the ceiling, pain blooming in my shoulder. Beside me, Thea lay still, her eyes closed, a thin trickle of blood running from her temple.

“Thea.” I reached for her with hands that felt oddly heavy. “Thea, wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered, a small moan escaping her lips. She was alive, conscious, for now. Relief flooded through me, quickly replaced by renewed urgency as I heard car doors slamming nearby.

“Stay with me.” I reached for her.

If I could get us out, find my gun or her knife.

.. The world tilted again as I shifted my weight, collapsing against the inverted roof of the car.

A wave of dizziness hit me, but I shoved it aside and crawled toward Thea.

She was struggling to orient herself in the upside-down wreckage.

I checked her for injuries while looking for a clear path to extract us both from the twisted metal and shattered glass surrounding us.

Voices approached—harsh, urgent commands in Russian. Not Marco then. Gray Wolves.

“Nazar,” Thea whispered, her eyes clearer now as awareness returned. “Get out. Go.”

“Not without you.” I reached for her hand.

The door wrenched open behind me, hands grabbing at my shoulders and dragging me backward. I fought, landing a solid elbow strike that produced a satisfying grunt of pain from my attacker.

More hands joined the first, pulling me from the wreckage. I caught glimpses of Thea still inside, struggling now as someone reached for her from the other side.

“Let her go!” I roared, breaking free momentarily only to be met with the butt of a rifle to my temple.

Pain exploded behind my eyes, the world going briefly white. I staggered but remained upright, blood running hot down the side of my face.

Three men surrounded me—Wolves, their tattoos visible beneath coat collars. One held a rifle trained on my chest, while the other two circled warily, assessing.

Beyond them, I saw Thea pulled from the wreckage, her wedding dress torn and stained, but the fight in her as strong as ever. My Dark Angel, even now.

“Take her,” came a command in Russian. “Moretti wants her unharmed.”

“And him?” asked another voice, nodding in my direction.

A pause. “Kill him. But make it look like the crash.”

I tensed, preparing for one final, desperate attack.

I knew I wouldn’t survive it, but I would take at least two of them with me.

The blow came from behind—a coward’s move, and a heavy one.

My knees buckled, but I didn’t fall. Not yet.

A second hit dropped me to the asphalt, blood roaring in my ears.

As the dark pulled at the edges of my vision, I fought it—because she was still out there.

I couldn’t die. Not until she was safe.

The SUV carrying Thea peeled away, disappearing around a corner as more tires squealed.

Through the encroaching darkness, the sharp crack of gunfire filled the air.

The men above me hesitated, turning toward the commotion.

Their moment of distraction was the last thing I registered before consciousness slipped away entirely.