Page 27 of Sweet Obsession (Savage Vow #1)

LUNA

The burner phone vibrated against my thigh, a violent shudder against the fragile quiet I’d found last night in the music room. Misha’s hands on mine, that lullaby... it still burned in my chest like a bruise I didn’t want to heal.

Chernov’s message came again.

How shameless could he be? After trying to kidnap me, after threatening everything I had left, he still had the audacity to reach out like we were playing some twisted game. Misha was right about him after all. He’s a poison wrapped in charm.

So I did what I should’ve done the first time. I blocked his number.

There are thousands of women in the world, why me? Why this obsession with another man’s wife? It wasn’t love. It was power. Possession. And I was done being a pawn.

But the new message made my lungs stop working.

We have Gabriela. Surrender yourself at the old mill by dawn tomorrow or she dies. – Vargas. The message was from the Vargas cartel, Yuri’s family.

The phone hit the floor. My knees followed.

A scream clawed out of my throat as I collapsed, the words slicing through my skull like glass. Gabriela. My sister. My last tether to anything good. Taken.

They didn’t come for me directly, they went for blood. For the one person I swore I’d keep safe. And I’d been stupid enough to believe Misha’s men guarding the compound she was meant she was untouchable.

This was my fault. My fucking fault.

Tears streamed, silent and endless. I should’ve protected her. Should’ve been better than this.

But I wasn’t.

I grabbed the phone and ran, my sweater slipping off my shoulder, my feet bare and freezing as I tore through the estate like a ghost with one name carved into my bones, Misha.

I found him hunched over a table in his study, maps spread out, storm in his eyes before I even opened my mouth.

“They took her.” My voice cracked. “The Vargas cartel. They have Gabriela. They want me. They’ll kill her.”

Misha was on me in a heartbeat. His hands gripped my face, his thumbs catching my tears like he could stop the flood with brute force alone.

His eyes, sharp as ice, locked onto mine. “Someone betrayed us, Luna. That’s the only way she got out. But it’ll be handled. I’ll find out who sold us out, and I’ll make them wish they were never born.”

“They won’t touch her,” he added, voice like steel. He pulled me into his chest, iron and heat and violence barely leashed. I clung to him like I hated myself for needing him, and maybe I did.

“I’ll get her back, Luna,” he said into my hair.

And for a second, I believed him.

“You’re barely on your feet, Luna,” he said, brushing his knuckles down my jaw. “Don’t let your mind spiral. This isn’t your burden to carry. It’s mine, and I’ll handle it.”

But how could I not? Gabriela was too young, too soft for this kind of nightmare. She wasn’t built for blood and threats and cartel wars. She should’ve been in school, dreaming about boys and sketching flowers in the margins of her notebook, not locked up by psychopaths.

I could see her in my mind: tiny Gabi, curled up, shaking with fear, tears streaking down her cheeks, her little fingers clinging to hope like it was slipping through them.

“Oh God,” I breathed. “She must be terrified.”

The thought twisted something in me so violently I nearly doubled over. My heart pounded like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to plan, I wanted to go to her now, tear the world apart if I had to, just to get her out of that hell.

“Poor Gabby...” I whispered, my voice cracking. “She’s just a kid. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this.”

Misha’s hand tightened around me, his eyes burning with fury. But mine were already full of tears.

His grip on me tightened, possessive, as if anchoring himself to the only thing keeping him from tearing the world apart. “Gabriela won’t be left there. I’ll burn every inch of that place to the ground before I let them harm a hair on her head.

Despite his reassurance, the fear still clawed beneath my skin, whispering all the ways this could end with a bullet through my sister’s skull. My voice cracked again. “I can’t lose her. I can’t...”

“You won’t.” His hands tightened around my arms, his gaze hard enough to freeze fire. “I’ll bring her home.”

We didn’t leave right away. Misha needed time, men, guns, strategy. All the things that made him a monster and the only man who could save her.

But waiting was hell. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t sit still. The walls pressed in until I threw on a coat and stumbled into the courtyard, snow crunching under my boots, the cold biting at skin I didn’t feel anymore.

I sat on a stone bench near the frozen fountain, the stars above mocking me with their silence. My thoughts spun in circles. Guilt. Fear. Rage. Longing.

I didn’t hear Misha approach—he was a shadow until he was right beside me, all black coat and quiet fury.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, voice raw. “It’s too cold.”

“I needed to breathe.” I didn’t look at him. “While you plan your war.”

I turned to him then. He looked like a man drowning under the weight of what he couldn’t say.

“When I was a boy, I wanted to be a carpenter,” he said suddenly. “Stepan laughed. Said I was better at breaking things. He was right. But sometimes, I still dream of it. Of a life where my hands build instead of ruin.”

His pain hit deeper than I wanted to admit.

“I wanted to travel,” I whispered. “Country to country. Free.”

He brushed a tear from my cheek, and I hated how good it felt.

“I’ll make that happen,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “Paris. Tokyo. Anywhere. Just don’t run from me again. Don’t make me chase you, Luna... because I will. Every time.”

I stood, heart racing. He stood too—closer. Stronger. Dangerous.

I didn’t pull away when he grabbed me. Couldn’t.

“What if I can’t stay?” I whispered, breath shaking. “What if I can’t forgive you? This marriage ends in ten months, Misha. You said you’d let me go.”

His eyes darkened, and something unholy flickered in his expression.

“That contract was a leash—I thought if I controlled the terms, I could control the obsession. But now I’d burn it if you asked me to. It’s you or nothing, Luna.”

He leaned in, his words dragging heat down my spine.

“I’ll fight for you. For your sister. For the fucking world if I have to. But I’m not letting you go, Luna. Not in twelve months. Not ever.”

His lips brushed my temple—a brand more than a kiss—and I broke.

I melted into him, even as guilt carved me open.

I saw Gabriela’s face—her tiny hand in mine, hiding under Mama’s bed, my whisper: “ I’ll always protect you, Gabi.”

I’d failed. Again.

But wrapped in Misha’s arms, I could almost believe redemption was possible, even if I didn’t deserve it.

Two days passed like a slow bleed. Every second without knowing Gabriela’s fate felt like torture. The air was heavy with dread, the Vargas cartel’s threat wrapped around my throat like a noose.

Misha had sworn to bring her back. I’d watched him command Oleg and Nikolai with a cold fury, his voice sharp and low, eyes flicking to mine like a silent promise.

“She’ll be back by dawn, Luna. I swear it,” he’d said, and I clung to those words like a lifeline, even as my hands trembled, even as the burner phone’s message kept echoing in my skull: Surrender yourself or she dies.

The hours crawled. Every minute was a fresh wound. Then, just as the first grey light touched the sky, Nikolai returned—his face grim, coat stained with blood, but behind him.

Gabriela.

Her white dress was ripped. Her eyes wide. But she was alive.

I didn’t think. I ran. I grabbed her, held her like I could merge our broken pieces into one. “Luna,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “I was so scared.”

“I know,” I cried into her hair. “I know.”

Misha stood nearby like a shadow—hands clenched, jaw tight, blue eyes soft in a way that made my throat tighten. He didn’t interrupt. He let me have this moment. And when I met his gaze, breathless with gratitude and heartbreak, I choked out, “Thank you.”

He only nodded. No words. Just a flicker of something I didn’t know how to name, but it rooted deep.

The relief didn’t last.

Later, once Gabriela was tucked safely into bed, Misha pulled me aside. His face was stone. His touch was steady. But his eyes—his eyes were a storm.

“There’s something else,” he said. “Stepan’s letter... the Rojas cartel... my men found more in Bogotá.”

My breath caught.

“Your father, Luna. He didn’t just know about Stepan’s betrayal—he ordered it.

Sold him to the Vargas cartel for protection.

He’s here. In Yakutsk. Meeting with Bratva men at some filthy restaurant.

I could kill him right now, but he’s still your father.

I won’t take that from you unless you tell me to. ”

The ground shifted beneath me.

My father. The man I once defended. The man I used to love back when Mama was alive, before power rotted him from the inside out. Before he sold me off like cartel property and left Gabriela to fend for herself, like she was nothing.

A cold, burning fury rose in my chest, steady and sharp.

“Take me to him,” I said, my voice like ice.

Misha allowed it.

Stupid of my father to come here, to Yakutsk of all places. Maybe he thought he had allies. Maybe Chernov. Maybe he was here to strike at Misha. But I wasn’t about to let him leave unscathed.

The restaurant was a dark pit full of cigar smoke and secrets. Velvet walls. Bratva men sipping vodka. Deals whispered like death.

He was there. My father. Polished. Calm. A predator.

I didn’t wait.

I stormed across the room, slammed my palms on his table. “You killed him,” I said, shaking. “Stepan. You gave him to the Vargas like he was nothing.”

He didn’t flinch. Just lifted his glass and sipped his drink, calm as ever—like this was just another business deal, another corpse he’d stepped over on his way to power.

Back when Yuri and I were together, I’d asked him what family he belonged to.

He refused to answer. I should’ve known then.

Should’ve walked away. I only learned the truth weeks ago, when I returned to Colombia for his funeral.

That he was Vargas. That I had unknowingly dated one of the sons of one of the deadliest cartels in Bogotá.

“It was business,” he said flatly. “Stepan got careless. I did what needed to be done.”

“You destroyed everything.” My voice broke as I lunged, grabbing his collar. “Misha, Stepan... me. You call that business?”

He grabbed my wrist, squeezing tight. “Watch your mouth,” he hissed. “You think Misha will protect you forever? I’ll ruin both of you. You and that trembling sister of yours.”

My eyes locked on the leather briefcase beside him, the one he’d just pulled a file from, whispering something to the Bratva man beside him. I knew that box held more than business. It held secrets. Rot.”

Rage snapped through me. I wrenched free and without thinking, I grabbed it.

“Luna,” he warned.

“You’re no father to me,” I said, but the words tasted like ash. I didn’t know if I meant them, not yet, but I needed to say them. I needed to choose someone. And I wasn’t choosing him.

I walked out, chest heaving. Snow whipped my face. Oleg and Nikolai trailed me, silent.

I opened the box as I moved. Inside, papers, receipts, transfers. My father’s deals with Chernov. The Vargas. Odessa. Plans. Timelines. Coordinates. Proof.

The bastards had joined forces. The same alliance that kidnapped Gabriela. The same ones who ambushed Misha and me at the warehouse days ago.

Nikolai offered to drive. I refused. I needed air. I needed to feel something besides the burn in my throat.

And then, movement.

Three men stepped out of the alley. Black coats. Tattoos. Knives gleaming.

Vargas.

I barely had time to scream.

But Misha was there.

A shadow. A bullet. A snarl.

He shot the first man in the throat, dragged me behind him, fired again. Oleg and Nikolai closed in fast, gunfire splitting the cold. Blood hit the snow like paint.

“Stay with me!” Misha growled, grabbing my hand, dragging me through the chaos.

The blood was barely dry on the snow when Misha slammed the warehouse door shut behind us, his chest still heaving. “Safe,” he muttered, but I saw his hands shaking as he pressed them to my back. Mine were worse.

He spun toward Nikolai. “Sweep the alley again. I want every second of footage from nearby cameras. No more fucking surprises.”

Nikolai nodded and disappeared into the dark.

“To hell with this ceasefire,” Oleg muttered. “And what about Chernov?”

Misha’s jaw clenched. “If he had a hand in this, I want his head on a fucking plate. Tonight.”

Then he left too. Now it’s just us.

I collapsed on the couch, files clutched to my chest. Everything hurt. My cheek stung. My hands were shaking.

How long is this going to go on? Even after the ceasefire. After the talks. After Misha swore it was handled.

I’m still being hunted. Still dodging bullets like nothing changed.

There was supposed to be peace with the Odessa family—so why the hell are we bleeding again? Why are we still running like prey?

And my father... how can he be at peace knowing his allies just ambushed me? Or maybe that’s the answer—he knew. Maybe this was part of the plan all along.

Misha knelt in front of me, his hands red, his brow split. Still, he wiped my cheek with a cloth, gentle like I was something breakable.

“I activated the tracker in your coat the moment you left,” he muttered as he pulled me behind him. “I wasn’t letting you face him alone.”

“I should’ve been there sooner,” he said, voice rough. “You shouldn’t have a single scratch.”

I reached for him, fingers brushing the cut above his eye. “You always protect me,” I whispered. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

He leaned into my touch.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he said. “Not Chernov. Not Vargas. Not even your father. I’ll fight them all. For you.”

Then he pulled something from his coat. A silver chain. A crescent moon pendant.

He fastened it around my neck, fingers brushing my skin.

“For you, mi luna. A piece of the moon. So you never forget who you belong to—and who’s willing to bleed for you.”

His lips brushed my forehead. Not soft. Final. A mark.

And that was it.

Something inside me cracked open. Not gently. Not clean.

But it shattered all the same.