Page 54 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

A SINGLE SHOT

J ust before a shot cracks the night apart, glass shatters. Screams break loose. Chaos erupts.

I yank Bianca behind the nearest column, shielding her body with mine. Another shot whistles past us, slamming into the marble.

“Down!” I bark.

I see Luka’s earpiece, and his voice roars. “Shots fired! Pull up the Hummer. Secure the perimeter—now!” He yells, “Get them out of here!” to Dragan.

Another bullet zings too close, but Dragan is on us, sheltering me. I’m covering Bianca. I pull my gun, leaning out before her as I scan the angles. She’s mine to protect.

There’s a sniper in the southwest corner. A second shooter moving in low. Luka barrels out of the building, gun drawn, and he takes the shot, and the man falls.

Luka is ahead of us. “We’ve got a vehicle waiting.”

“Move,” he snaps. “Now. Follow me.” Dragan flanks us, firing two controlled shots that make the attackers scatter. He looks everywhere, his gun and laser moving with his eyes.

Luka covers the street with his weapon drawn. They move like ghosts, efficient and merciless. Luka hauls me by the elbow, shoving us toward the alley where the black Hummer idles, engine humming like a beast ready to pounce.

I push Bianca in first, shielding her body with mine until we're inside. Luka and Dragon dive in behind us. Doors slam shut. The driver peels away from the curb before I even have my seatbelt on, tires shrieking against the pavement.

She is shaking, pinned beneath me. Eyes wide with shock and fear.

My heart is a hammer in my chest. The bullet wasn’t meant for me. It’s intended for her.

Bianca clutches my jacket, wide-eyed but steady. God, she’s brave.

“Stay with me, Princeza,” I breathe as I run my hands over her, checking for wounds.

“Who was it?” Luka demands, breathless.

“Radovan,” I growl. “Who else?”

Luka curses under his breath and grabs a rifle from a rack in the back. He checks his rifle.

“Take us to the safe house,” I snap.

Safe? Everyone knows safety is an illusion we can no longer afford—not when Radovan has declared war.

“I will burn this entire city before I let them get that close to you again. I’ll kill Radovan. I’ll wipe out every name tied to him. I’ll give you the world, Bianca—but I can’t give you peace. Not yet. Not while they breathe.”

We weave through traffic. Past the industrial blocks. Past the broken neighborhoods. But she still doesn’t speak. I assume she’s in shock.

We drive, stretching long and tight every second until we finally leave the city.

The gates loom ahead—thick iron, sharp as fangs. They swing open at our approach, and the vehicle lurches forward. Guards spill onto the drive, armed and alert, their eyes hard as steel.

I smooth my hands down the front of my jacket, my mind already carving blood into the night. Because this isn’t over, it’s just beginning. But all I see is her.

I pull her onto the seat beside me. Bianca’s hand slips into mine. I grip it tight.

“You okay??

She nods. But something’s changed. She’s distant, and I know why. She saw my world today, not the edges, not the strategy. The cost. I told her she wouldn’t bleed for me. However, it appears to have been a falsehood that even I believed.

Radovan sent that bullet. I don’t need confirmation. It’s written in cold precision and excellent timing.

He’s not warning me anymore. He’s coming. And I swear to God—I’ll paint the streets red before I let him touch her.

She watches me like I’m a storm. She doesn’t know how to react.

I promised myself I’d never let her feel unsafe. Not with me. Not because of me. And yet here we are, in the shit because of a man who can’t adapt.

My safe house with its thick walls and silence. Her eyes are full of something colder than hate— doubt.

We make our way into the fortress. I tell Luka to triple the security. I call in favors I swore I’d never use. And it still doesn’t feel like enough. Because Radovan didn’t just fire a bullet today—he cracked the one thing I didn’t think he could reach.

Her trust.

Bianca

I should be screaming.

Or crying.

Or at least asking who the hell tried to kill me. Instead, I’m nauseous. I’m sure it’s nerves .

I sit in the back of his armored car, the silence between us heavier than the gun’s weight still tucked into his belt.

My hands won’t stop shaking. I know exactly what this means; This is not everyday politics. This is an attempt to seize control of Vukan’s empire.

This is war. And I’m the target.

His hand is warm when it covers mine. I don’t pull away, but I don’t squeeze back either because something cracked in me today. Not because he didn’t protect me—he did. Flawlessly.

It’s because he had to. Because this life, his life, will always come with bullets. And I’m not sure if I can live with that. I never thought much about who I would marry, but I wouldn’t mind a quiet life with a normal man—a routine, a family, a dog, and a white picket fence.

But maybe that’s not me. I stand inside the safe house. He stands by the window, back rigid, jaw set like stone. I watch him, wanting to take me into his arms, and he promises this will end soon.

And I know—if I stay, I’ll have to stop pretending this is a game.

Because Vukan Petrovi? may have my heart now, but his world could still destroy me. I’ve been in this world long enough to know this doesn’t end with one bullet.

It never does.

But the ripple is felt, and I want to be ready—I have to be prepared for him. And for us.

And for whatever comes next.