Page 44 of Savage Vows

I shrug. I can’t meet her eyes, not with the way my skin prickles at the memory of his mouth on me, the strength in his hands, the way he made me feel. Not terrified. Not threatened. Wanted.Like I was the only thing that mattered in the world, even if it was just for a few minutes.

“He doesn’t feel like a monster to me,” I say softly, almost embarrassed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Bella studies me. “You trust him?”

I think of last night, the way I melted beneath his hands. The way my body answers him even when my head screams caution. My cheeks flush. “I don’t know if I trust him,” I admit. “But I want him. Every time he’s near, it’s like I forget who he’s supposed to be.”

Bella gives me a look—half concern, half a smile. “Be careful,” she says. “That’s how monsters get in.”

I want to argue, but before I can, voices carry over the hedge, and both of us go silent.

Bella hesitates. “Should we be here?”

Curiosity spikes. “No reason not to,” I murmur, though my pulse kicks. We move closer, keeping to the shade. The hedges are tall enough to hide us. I ease a branch aside and look through.

Dante stands on the flagstones near the old stone wall, a man kneeling before him. Dante’s sleeves are rolled, face unreadable. A few feet away, another man stands stiffly apart from him, half in shadow.

My breath stops. “Maksim,” I whisper.

Bella recognizes him too. Her fingers dig into my sleeve. She looks as surprised as I feel.

Maksim reads from his phone. “Two texts from your burner on the nights the convoy schedule went out. You sent arrivalwindows and warehouse bay numbers. Five minutes later, deposits hit your wife’s account. Same bank. Same payer.”

The kneeling man jerks his head up. “Boss, please. I was drunk. I was mouthing off. I never?—”

Dante’s voice is even. “You met a Sokolov runner behind the club.”

The man’s mouth opens and closes. “It was a bag drop. I didn’t know what was in it.”

Dante doesn’t blink. “We have you on camera at the service door. You count the money.”

The man swallows. “I have a son. I’ll give names. I’ll make it right.”

“You can’t make this right,” Dante says.

He raises the gun. My heart stops, and I watch in horror, breath trapped in my chest.

No, I mouth, but no sound comes. The man on his knees begins to sob. He pleads, words breaking apart, but Dante doesn’t flinch.

He fires.

The shot is sudden, final. The man collapses forward onto the stones. For a moment, no one moves. Dante stands over the body, face unreadable, the gun still in his hand.

Then he looks up—straight toward the hedge, straight at me.

Our eyes lock.

I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

He knows.

12

DANTE

I knowshe saw me kill him.

There’s no room for doubt. When I looked up after the shot, the hedge rippled and I caught a flash of her eyes—wide, horrified, locked on mine. She thinks she’s hidden, but nothing in this garden moves without me knowing.