Page 56 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

SAFE HARBOR

W e don’t sleep. Not really.

She curls against me on the worn leather couch in the safe house living room, both of us fully clothed, weapons within reach. The candlelight casts shadows that dance across her face.

She dozes in fits, her breath shallow, fingers curled in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. I don’t move. I watch the windows.

I replay the shots fired, the angels, and the timing, over and over. And all I see is red.

Radovan didn’t just take a shot at her. He sent a message. He’s in the city. Embedded. Confident. I’m surprised by how ballsy he was.

But that ends now.

By sunrise, the house comes alive. Reinforcements arrive—silent and efficient. They are handpicked men who owe me blood and loyalty. They fan out around the property, inside and out.

I meet Luka in the war room—really just a side den retrofitted with reinforced glass, three monitors, and a table scarred by bullets and old plans .

“We traced the shot,” Luka says. “We confirmed shooters on the south rooftop, Hotel Marlowe. Clean exit. Pro sniper. Military-trained.”

“Radovan’s men?”

“Almost certainly. Still digging.”

I nod, eyes flicking to the map on the screen. “I want every property, every safe house, every shell front he’s used. He thinks he knows the game. Let’s show him how wrong he is.”

Luka nods. “What about Bianca?”

I glance toward the hall.

“She stays here. For now.”

“She’ll hate it.”

“She’ll live.”

I head back to her as the sun cracks gold over the skyline. She’s awake, sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. Her eyes meet mine—hers are calm, mine are set on revenge.

“You’re planning,” she says, and it’s not a question.

“I have to.”

“I hate war.”

I sit beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her. “Bianca?—”

“No, I know you have to end it,” she cuts in calmly. “But let me in.”

I study her and see the fire in her and the determination in every line of her face.

“You really want that?” I ask.

She nods. “We’re together. Your problems are my problems.”

I nod back, slowly and deliberately. “It’s my battle.”

She slips her hand in mine. “It’s our battle.”

Outside, the world comes into focus as the hunt begins.

Before I turned in for the night, I triple-checked the door locks and then turned to her .

Bianca stands in the middle of the room, hugging herself, her eyes too bright. She’s trying to hold it together and trying to be strong.

I cross to her in three strides, hands closing around her arms. Gently. Carefully. Like if I grip her too hard, she might break.

“You have a cut,” I say, voice rough. I brush my thumb along the Band Aids on her arm, rage boiling back up in my chest.

“It’s nothing,” she says, voice hoarse. She shakes her head, blinking fast like she can blink the fear away. “I’m fine, Vukan. It’s just—glass. Just glass.”

I know she’s lying. Not about the cuts. About being fine.

Her whole body trembles under my touch, every muscle wound tight like she’s about to snap.

“You almost died,” I rasp. The words tear out of me. “Right there. Right in front of me. And I couldn’t—” I break off, my jaw locking so hard it hurts.

I pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her, feeling her heart pounding against mine.

“I should’ve pulled you sooner,” I mutter into her hair. “I should’ve trusted my gut. I fucking knew Radovan would come for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says fiercely. “You kept your promise. You kept me safe.” Bianca presses her face into my chest, her fingers fisting in my shirt.

“I almost didn’t,” I choke out. I tighten my arms around her, wishing I could pull her inside me, shield her from everything and everyone.

She leans back just enough to look up at me, her eyes dark and shining.

“I’m still here,” she says. “Because of you.”

Something inside me cracks.

I cup her face, my thumbs brushing away the tears she refuses to let fall. “I can’t lose you,” I say, the words ripped straight from my soul. “I won’t survive it, Sre?o. I won’t even try.”

Her breath catches. She rises on her toes, her mouth brushing mine—not a kiss—just a trembling whisper of a touch.

“I’m yours, Vukan,” she says, voice trembling. “I don’t want to run anymore. I just want you.”

And her admission breaks me. I crush her mouth with mine, pouring every ounce of terror and fury and need into the kiss. She responds instantly, her hands clawing at my shirt, pulling me closer, closer, like she can’t get enough.

I lift her and carry her to the old leather couch against the far wall, never breaking the kiss.

I set her down gently, reverently, even though my body screams to take, to claim, to make her mine all over again.

But this isn’t just about need anymore. It’s about her. About us.

I pull back just enough to look at her, to see the tears glistening in her eyes and the fierce love burning there, too. Or am I assuming it’s love? For once, I’m at a loss.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Always.”

She reaches for me, her voice shaking but sure.

“Then take me, Vukan. Show me I’m safe with you.”

And this time, I don’t hold back.

Bianca lies beneath me, her chest rising and falling fast, her lips swollen from my kisses.

Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me down, pulling me into her, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

I’m not going anywhere. Not ever. I strip the shirt over my head and toss it aside, baring myself to her, letting her see every scar, every broken piece. She doesn’t flinch, nor does she look away.

She touches me like I’m something worth saving. I slide my hands under her shirt, pushing it up slowly, giving her every chance to stop me, to change her mind. She lifts her arms without hesitation, letting me pull it over her head and toss it away.

God. I stare at her, at the soft curves, the way she arches into me, offering herself up without fear.

“You’re perfect,” I breathe. “You’re fucking perfect.”

She shakes her head, a slight, broken sound slipping from her lips. “I’m not. I’m so?—”

I silence her with a kiss, devouring the words, tasting the pain she still carries.

“You’re mine,” I growl against her mouth. “That’s all that matters.”

She whimpers, a desperate, needy sound that goes straight to my gut.

I kiss my way down her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her breast. I worship every inch of her with my mouth, hands, and body.

I take my time. I learn her—every gasp, every tremble, every place that makes her shudder and cling to me.

I move lower, kissing the lines of her ribs, the soft skin of her stomach, down to the waistband of her shorts. She writhes under me, desperate and undone.

“Vukan,” she gasps, her hands threading into my hair, pulling. “Please.”

God, I could die right here with her begging for me and call it heaven. I unbutton my pants and strip before removing the rest of her clothing, baring her completely. I kiss the inside of her thighs, slow and reverent, feeling her tremble under my hands.

When I finally move over her again, lining my body with hers, I brace myself on my forearms, holding back, holding everything back.

“Tell me to stop,” I rasp, my forehead resting against hers. “Tell me now.”

Her fingers trail down my chest, over the scars, the muscles straining to stay still until she finds me and wraps her hand around me with a touch so soft it nearly breaks me.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispers. “I want to feel you. I want to feel us. ”

I push into her slowly, carefully, every inch a battle not to lose myself. She gasps, her nails digging into my back, her legs wrapping around my hips, pulling me deeper, closer, until there’s no space left between us.

I move slowly at first, letting her adjust, letting her feel every inch of me, and letting me memorize the way she opens up for me, the way she trusts me with her body, her heart, and everything.

Then her hips rise to meet mine, her body pleading for more, and I give it to her.

Harder. Deeper.

She clutches me like a lifeline, moaning my name, her voice breaking, her body shattering around me.

I lose myself in her, the heat, sweetness, and raw, desperate love between us.

I murmur her name against her skin, promises I can’t even form words for, only feelings, and need.

I reach between us, finding the tight bundle of nerves at the center of her pussy as my hard cock strokes her until she cries out, her body clamping down on mine as she falls apart in my arms.

The feel of her shattering pulls me over the edge, too. I bury my face in her neck, groaning her name as I spill into her, giving her everything I have, everything I am. We collapse together, bodies tangled, hearts pounding in sync.

I don’t move. I don’t even think about pulling away. I hold her like I never intend to let her go. Because I don’t. I’m hers and she’s mine. Forever.

Bianca lies half on top of me, her head tucked under my chin, her hand resting over my heart.

Her breathing slows, syncing with mine. Every exhale from her lips skims my skin, branding me in a way no scar ever could. I run my fingers slowly through her hair, over and over, needing the contact as much as I need the air in my lungs.

The silence between us isn’t heavy. It’s full. Full of everything we just said without words. Full of everything we just gave each other.

I tilt my head down, brushing my lips over the crown of her head. She sighs, a soft, contented sound that makes my chest ache. I tighten my arm around her, pressing her even closer. Like I can fuse her to me. Like I can make sure no one, nothing, ever takes her away.

“You’re safe now,” I murmur, the words low and rough. “I swear it, Sre?o. I’ll kill anyone who even looks at you wrong.”

She lets out a soft, breathless laugh against my chest. “That sounds like you.”

I smile, a real one, and feel her smile too, small and secret and ours. I tip her chin up, making her meet my eyes.

“I mean it,” I say, voice steady. “You don’t ever have to go through anything alone again. You have me.” Her eyes shine in the dim light.

“I just want this,” she whispers. “You. Us.”

Something in me tightens, fierce, protective, and raw. I kiss her, slow and deep, pouring every promise I can’t say out loud into her mouth. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.

“We’re going to build something,” I promise. “Something that lasts. Something they can’t take from us.”

Bianca nods, a tear slipping free down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb and brush it away.

“I believe you,” she says. “For the first time in a long time... I trust someone other than myself.”

I pull her closer, wrapping my body around hers, shielding her from the world. We lie there like that, tangled up in each other, whispering about stupid things—about breakfast, maybe stealing a dog someday, about places we want to see.

Every word stitches something broken inside me back together. Every breath she takes against me feels like a new beginning. And for the first time in my goddamn life, I don’t feel like a weapon or a soldier.

I feel like a man. Her man. And I swear by everything I am—I’ll never stop loving her. And I will keep her safe. My life ceases to exist without her.