Page 29 of Sweet Obsession (Savage Vow #1)

He sat beside me, close enough that I felt the pull of his presence. His hand hovered near mine but didn’t touch.

The restraint in his gaze hurt more than I expected. “I want to take care of you, Luna. I want a future where we can do this every day. Where you don’t hate me. Where we build something.”

I reached for the juice, my hands still weak, and the glass slipped, orange liquid spilling across the tray, a small accident that made me gasp, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Misha laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through me, and he grabbed a napkin, his hand covering mine as he wiped the juice from my fingers, his touch gentle, lingering, his eyes meeting mine, a softness in them that made my heart race.

“You’re a mess, Malyshka” he said, his voice teasing, his smile genuine, and I found myself smiling back, a small, broken thing, a step toward something lighter, something real.

But the moment shattered when I heard Nikolai’s voice in the hall, his words muffled but clear, he was talking to someone on phone about Gabriella still missing.

Gabriella is missing? I froze. Misha had told me three days ago that Gabriella was in Colombia, sick and needing rest. I hadn’t questioned it, too weak to think straight. Foolishly, I’d trusted him.

My blood went cold. I jerked my hand away from his, eyes wide with the sting of betrayal. “Gabriella’s been taken again?” I hissed, my voice trembling with fury and fear. “Why did you lie to me? Was this your plan to make me trust you?”

Misha’s face darkened, his eyes pleading. His hands reached for me but stopped short. “I didn’t want to distress you,” he said, voice raw. “You were sick, Luna. I couldn’t bear seeing you hurt again, not after everything I’ve done. I’ve got men looking for her. I’ll get her back. I swear.”

I jerked away, my body trembling with rage. “You’ve already lied to me once. I can’t trust you anymore.” The words ripped from me. “I have to save her. On my own.”

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs unsteady, my mind racing to the burner phone.

When Misha finally left, I reached for it, my fingers trembling as I unlocked it. As I’d feared, there was a message from Chernov: Your sister is here. If you want her out alive, come quietly to Nordic.

A cold chill ran through me. I knew what I had to do.

That night, I slipped out of the compound, defying Misha’s orders. I’d spent days watching the guards, learning their routines, the gaps in their patrols. I knew when to move, when the shadows were my ally.

I found an exit rarely used, tucked behind the maintenance area where the cameras didn’t reach.

I’d seen the shift change earlier, and the guards were distracted by the commotion in the main hall. It was my chance.

I grabbed one of Misha’s cars, barely a second thought before I slid into the driver’s seat.

My heart was a drumbeat in my chest, but I’d never felt more determined. The burner phone burned a hole in my pocket, its weight a constant reminder of the dangerous path I was about to walk.

Once I arrived at the location, I noticed it was a warehouse district with a maze of shadows, its air thick with the scent of oil and rust, the buildings looming like ghosts as I met Chernov at the rendezvous point, his slick smile a contrast to the danger in his eyes, a danger I recognized too late.

“You came,” Chernov said, voice smooth, eyes gleaming with something feral. “I knew you’d choose freedom. Misha doesn’t deserve you, Luna.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the nausea. “I’m not your pawn, Chernov. Just tell me where my sister is.”

His smile twisted. “Still so naive.” He stepped in, close enough to smell the rot on his breath.

His men circled behind me, weapons drawn, shadows closing in.

“You think this is about your sister? I’m working with the Vargas cartel to crush Misha.

Your father handed Stepan over, but I was the one who sealed his fate. ”

My heart slammed in my chest, but I held his gaze. “So this was never about helping me.”

He chuckled darkly. “No. But you can still be useful.” His hand gripped my arm, hard. “If I can’t convince you, maybe I’ll take what I want.”

Then he lunged, trying to kiss me. I jerked away, but his slap cracked across my cheek, blinding me for a second.

“Hold her,” he growled to his men. “I’ll fuck her right here, and Misha can choke on the scraps.”

They moved toward me, two of them.

But I didn’t freeze.

I reached down fast, fingers curling around a jagged shard of glass from the floor. As one man grabbed my arm, I drove it into Chernov’s bicep, the blade biting deep. He roared, staggering back as blood sprayed.

I kicked over the barrel beside us, oil spilling fast across the floor.

They hesitated.

I didn’t.

A match from my coat pocket flared to life, then dropped.

Flames rushed like vengeance.

Smoke. Screams. Chaos.

I ran, my heart pounding, a match in my pocket flaring to life as I tossed it, the flames erupting in a roar, a diversion that sent Chernov’s men scattering, their shouts lost in the chaos.

I fled, my legs burning, my breath ragged, the warehouse a maze of fire and shadow as I escaped, my hands shaking, my mind a storm of fear and defiance.

I ran. Not away, through. Through fire, through smoke, through the nightmare I’d willingly walked into for the girl I couldn’t stop protecting. The flames clawed at the rafters behind me, the stench of burning oil thick in my lungs. I was dizzy, bleeding, barefoot, and still I ran.

Then came the roar of multiple engines. Tires screeched. Men shouted. I skidded into the street just as headlights slammed into me like a spotlight, freezing me in place.

And then, I saw him.

Misha.

He stepped from the black SUV like a storm wrapped in skin. His gun was already raised, his jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning, murderous.

“Luna!” he shouted, but it wasn’t just anger in his voice. It was terror. It was fury. It was something close to love.

Chernov’s men surged from the warehouse after me. Misha didn’t hesitate. He opened fire, fast, brutal, surgical. One dropped. Then another. Blood hit the snow. Screams cut the cold.

I tried to run to him, but my legs gave out.

Misha caught me mid-fall. “You’re hurt,” he growled, tucking me behind his body with terrifying gentleness. “Stay down.”

I didn’t listen. I never do.

A shot rang out, and Misha flinched.

He spun, shielding me, firing back with a snarl. “They’re fucking dead,” he muttered, voice ragged with rage. “Every last one.”

He fought like something unholy. Like the devil had crawled into him and made him its sword. Blood sprayed. One man got close—and Misha pistol-whipped him so hard I heard the skull crack.

He turned to me, panting. “Are you with me?”

I nodded, trembling. “Always.”

He yanked me close, one hand cradling the back of my head. “You shouldn’t have come. You nearly died.”

“I had to,” I whispered. “For her.”

His mouth crashed into mine, fierce and angry and raw. A kiss like war. Like surrender.

Gunshots still echoed behind us. Sirens wailed in the distance.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said into my lips. “Then I’m burning this whole fucking city down.”

Once we were home.

The doors slammed shut behind us. I staggered inside, soaked in smoke and sweat, legs barely holding me up. Misha’s arm was like iron around my waist, dragging me forward when I wanted to collapse.

The mansion was too quiet. Every tick of the clock was a reminder of what I’d just risked, what he nearly lost.

Misha didn’t speak until we reached my room. He kicked the door shut, turned on me, and the storm hit.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he snapped, voice like gravel over ice. “You walk into a trap and expect to walk out alive?”

I stripped off the coat, chest heaving. “You lied to me about Gabriela.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice.”

“And you don’t get to walk into hell without telling me!”

We were close now—too close. His hands were clenched, his body shaking with rage and something else. I saw it in his eyes: not just fury. Fear. Real, human fear.

“I saw what he was going to do to you,” he growled, stepping in. “If I’d been a minute later...” His voice broke. “He would’ve—”

“But he didn’t,” I whispered. “Because I fought. Because I survived.”

“You shouldn’t have to survive like that.”

Silence fell. Thick. Pressed between us like a weight.

He looked at me, at my busted lip, my shaking hands, the smoke still in my hair. “You don’t get to scare me like that,” he said, voice low, bitter. “I’ve lost too much already.”

“I was scared too,” I said. “But I’m not your porcelain doll, Misha. I don’t break that easy.”

His mouth crashed into mine again—rougher this time. Desperate. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I let him. Let him pour every ounce of fury, fear, obsession into that kiss. Because it wasn’t just anger. It was need. It was him.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “I will find Gabriela. I swear to you, Luna. But next time you run off like that—I’ll lock the world down to keep you here.”

“And I’ll break every lock,” I said, breathless.

He smiled. Just barely. “Then I’ll build stronger ones.”

“I was ready to burn the world down,” he rasped, dragging his lips down my neck, biting the curve of my shoulder, his fingers digging into my hips like he was anchoring himself to me. “And I’ll still torch it, Luna, if anyone touches you again.”

He yanked my nightgown over my head in one brutal motion, the fabric tearing, leaving me bare except for my panties. His mouth dropped to my chest, sucking my nipple with a ferocity that pulled a guttural moan from my throat, my hands fisting his hair.

He laid me on the bed, his body hard and commanding over mine, reverence and rage tangled in his touch. Then, in a swift move, he flipped me onto my stomach, his hands ripping my panties off. I gasped, “Fuck!”