Page 147 of Mafia King's Broken Vow

But the mood has shifted irrevocably, the shadow of violence falling across our tentative peace. As the gathering slowly regains its momentum, Yakov makes his way to me, movements unhurried but purposeful.

“You’re on his list,” he says without preamble when we’re alone enough not to be overheard. “As is Aleksander.”

I absorb this without surprise. “Because of old grievances. He holds me responsible for Pablo’s capture and death.”

“Yes.” His hand cups my face, thumb tracing the faded scar on my cheekbone—Pablo’s legacy, a reminder of how close I came to death before. “But he won’t touch you. I won’t allow it.”

The cold certainty in his voice should frighten me. Instead, it sends a perverse thrill through my body; this dangerous man who would burn the world to keep me safe. The monster I’ve chosen to love.

“We’ll handle it,” I say, placing my hand over his. “Together.”

“Together,” he agrees, lowering his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s both comfort and claim.

His lips move against mine with familiar hunger, and I surrender to it willingly, desperately. My fingers curl into the lapels of his expensive suit, pulling him closer despite our public setting. I need this, need him, need the reminder that some things haven’t changed, won’t change, no matter what threats gather on our horizon.

When we break apart, both breathing harder, I see the decision already formed in his expression. The monster is awake now, calculating, planning.

“Take me home,” I whisper against his mouth. “Now.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t remind me that the celebration isn’t over, that there are social niceties to observe. He simply nods, his hand settling possessively at the small of my back as he guides me toward the exit.

I catch Igor’s eye as we leave, and he gives me a single nod, the same silent acknowledgment he’s given me since we were children getting into trouble together.Be careful. Stay alert. I’ll be here if you need me.The promise of a brother who isn’t bound by blood but by something deeper, more lasting.

In the car, tension crackles between us, electric and dangerous. His hand finds my thigh beneath the burgundy dress, fingers tracing patterns that make my breath catch. Neither of us speaks. We don’t need to. After a year together, our bodies communicate what words cannot—need and reassurance, hunger and possession, fear transmuted into desire.

At home—our home, this place we’ve built together—his control finally shatters. The door barely closes behind us before he has me pressed against the wall, his mouth claiming mine with bruising intensity.

“I will protect you,” he snarls against my throat. “Whatever it takes.”

“I know,” I gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “I trust you.”

And I do. God help me, I trust this man with my life, with my body, with every broken piece of myself. This man who once orchestrated kidnappings, who planned the destruction of families, who killed without remorse—this is the man I’ve chosen. The man who chooses me in return, every day, every moment.

As his hands tear at my dress with urgent need, as my own fingers work frantically at his belt, I understand with perfect clarity: this is our answer to the threat that looms. This desperate claiming of each other, this reaffirmation that what exists between us is worth any risk, any sacrifice.

His mouth traces a path of fire down my throat, and I arch against him, needing more, needing everything. When he lifts me against the wall, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer, deeper into the space where only we exist.

There’s desperation in our joining, urgency born from the knowledge that tomorrow will bring strategy meetings and security protocols. Tomorrow, Yakov will return to the weapon he once was, will use those skills to ensure our survival. Tomorrow, I will call Igor and Aleksander, will draw on the bonds of family that have sustained me since childhood. Tomorrow, we will face whatever darkness the cartel brings to our door.

But tonight—tonight is just us. Man and woman. The beast and the one who loves him. Broken pieces fitting together to create something stronger than either of us could be alone.

When release finally claims us both, his name on my lips and mine on his, we cling to each other in the aftermath, hearts racing, bodies trembling. In this moment, with him still inside me, still holding me against the wall as if he’ll never let me go, one truth remains unshakable.

I am his, and he is mine. Today and all the days that follow.

This is what love looks like in our world—dangerous and intense, passionate and possessive. Not the fairy tale I might have once imagined, but something far more real. Far more necessary.

Far more worth fighting for.

THE END