Page 64 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

ANOTHER NOTCH

I find her in the garden, barefoot in the dew-kissed grass, her dress clinging to her skin like moonlight made of sun rays. When she sees me, the relief that lit across her face undid something inside me. She runs, and I catch her, hold her, breathe her in like I’d been starving for her scent.

“It’s done,” I murmur into her hair. “Radovan is dead.”

She pulls back just enough to see my face. “Then it’s over.”

I wanted to say yes. Gods, I wanted to give her that peace. To fall into her arms and pretend the war had ended with Radovan’s last breath. But I can’t. Not truthfully.

Instead, I kiss her—deep, hungry, and grateful. We stand wrapped in each other, the garden spinning around us, a moment carved out of a bloodstained world. But peace is a fragile illusion.

“It should be over,” I said against her temple. “But I don’t think it is.”

She stiffens just slightly. “You think Milan will retaliate?”

“I don’t know.” I pull away, just enough to meet her eyes. “Radovan acted first. He made the first cut. But Milan… he’s no t the kind to let a wound heal without tearing at the scab. He’s proud. Angry. And worse—he feels slighted. As twisted as Radovan was, they were bound by hatred.”

Bianca nods slowly, but her jaw is tight. “How close were they?”

I shake my head. “Close enough that Radovan’s death might feel like another slight.”

She swallows hard. “So we wait.”

I look out across the horizon. The night is quiet, too quiet. As if the world holds its breath. “Milan’s not like Radovan. He doesn’t throw tantrums. He waits. He waits, and he’ll strike when it matters. This… this could be just the beginning of a larger problem.”

“But we’ll face it together,” she says, threading her fingers through mine.

I look down at her hand, then up into the eyes of the only person who ever made the war inside me feel worth surviving.

“Always.”

But even as I say it, I feel the weight of something coming. Like a storm is just beyond the hills, but gaining ground. Radovan fell. But Milan… Milan might burn the whole world to avenge him, and he’ll try to end me and claim what he feels is his.

Bianca

His arms wrap around me like armor, steady and strong. He doesn’t speak as he carries me, just breathes—deep, controlled. But I feel the weight of my words in the silence between us.

Don’t die.

He touches me gently, like I’m breakable, though we both know I’m not. Not anymore. He brushes my hair from my face and looks at me like I’m made of stars and blood and every vow he never dared to speak aloud .

He rips my clothes off—a man who’s hungry for me—a man who wants me as much as he does his next breath.

His gaze holds me captive, my body trembles under his touch.“You’re mine,” he says.

The word hits me like lightning. I want to deny it, scream that I can't be his weakness, I can't afford to be anyone's. But my body betrays me—heat coils low in my belly, my breathing becomes shallow.

He climbs onto the bed behind me, his hand sliding from the nape of my neck down the curve of my spine, a path of fire. He presses his chest to my back, lips brushing my ear.

“You say you don’t want to be my burden,” he whispers, voice molten. “But you already are. The sweetest one I’ve ever carried.”

My breath catches, but he doesn’t stop. His hand moves around, teasing between my legs, stroking softly—just enough to make me squirm.

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me who owns this body.”

I bite back a moan, refuse at first. But then he pinches, just enough pain to send pleasure spiraling, and the words slip out like a confession.

“You. It’s yours.”

He groans, satisfied. “Damn right it is.”

He thrust inside me.

“You begged me not to die,” he says, voice strained. “Now, let me ruin you.”

And when he takes me, it’s not gentle. It’s claiming. Raw. Honest. Every thrust is a vow he doesn’t need words to make.

I cry out, bound and bared, and he drinks it in like worship. His hands grip my hips tightly, dragging me back to meet him over and over, until I’m nothing but sensation, unraveling.

“You feel that?” he pants. “That’s what you do to me. You make me fucking lose control. ”

“Good,” I gasp, needing him deeper. “Then lose it. For me.”

He growls, animal and human and holy all at once. And when we come undone, it’s not just bodies breaking—it’s everything. It’s trust. It’s surrender. It’s the truth I still can’t say out loud.

But I think he hears it anyway.

Later in the night, we are awakened by the thunder as a summer storm rolls in.

“I love the sound of thunder and rain,” I say.

“Me, too. Can’t sleep?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“I hope it’s good news for a change.”

He pulls me to him and tugs the sheet over my shoulders.

“The best,” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence between us isn’t long. In the flickering light from lightning, I see him.

He stares at me and cups my face.

“You sure?” His voice is low, as if he’s afraid he’s not worthy.

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sure. I don’t know how because I was on birth control. You must have superhuman sperm, and science is irrelevant.”

He lets out this sharp, almost disbelieving breath. Then he pulls me into him so hard I forget how to breathe.

His forehead rests against mine, and for a second, there’s no plan. No strategy. No kill list. No war. Just us and this miracle growing inside me.

“Wow,” he whispers. “My baby. Our baby. Tiny feet running down these dusty halls that have been too quiet for too damn long.”

I wrap my arms around him like it’s the only thing keeping me standing, and truth be told? It is.

“You really should consider wearing my ring because I’m never letting you go. You’re my everything,” he says .

But instead of settling into life together, someone wants to kill him, and that takes precedent over us for now. He has to get his house in order so there will be a future for our child.

And I worry that this is just the calm before the storm.