Page 7 of Sweet Obsession (Savage Vow #1)

LUNA

Back at the grand hall. Something was wrong. I felt it before I saw it.

The way the music stuttered to a stop. The way the dancers froze mid-twirl. The way the guards began speaking rapidly into radios, faces taut.

Yuri stiffened beside me, the champagne glass in his hand tilting slightly before he caught it. Across the ballroom, Papa’s face was tight, his smile stretched too wide, too false.

Whispers rose like smoke through the room. Guests began filtering toward the exits, confusion and fear rippling in their wake.

Something had shifted. Something irreversible.

I didn’t know how I knew. But I did. I felt it in my bones.

Papa beckoned me with a flick of his hand, sharp and commanding.

I followed stiffly, weaving through the thinning crowd, the hem of my dress whispering against the marble.

Yuri trailed behind, looking just as confused.

We stepped into the smaller parlor off the ballroom, the one reserved for private deals and whispered threats.

Misha Petrov was already there. Sitting casually in an armchair, legs stretched out, hands laced over his stomach.

Like a king waiting for someone to kneel. I didn’t kneel.

I stood there, spine straight, pulse hammering against my throat.

“Plans have changed,” Papa said, smoothing a hand down his jacket like it could erase the tension crackling in the air.

I stared at him. Waiting. Dreading.

“You will not marry Yuri,” he continued. “Another agreement has been reached.”

I blinked once. Twice.

The world shifted sideways.

“What?” I croaked, the word barely leaving my lips.

“Misha Petrov has made a counteroffer. A better one.” Papa’s voice was cold and final. “You will leave with him today. To Russia.”

Today? Not tomorrow. Not in a week.

Today.

I opened my mouth, to scream, to argue, to beg. I didn’t know.

But Misha’s gaze pinned me to the floor. Heavy. Icy. Final.

“You can pack whatever you need,” Papa said, dismissively. “You’ll have everything else you require there.”

“I’m not a suitcase,” I said, voice trembling. “You can’t just...”

“Enough,” Papa snapped. “You’ve caused enough problems. You’re lucky we found a buyer at all. Misha’s deal is the only thing saving this family right now.”

A buyer? Like livestock. Like a product.

I stumbled back a step, the breath punched from my lungs.

This wasn’t happening.

Not to me.

Not like this.

I found Yuri outside, pacing near the gardens, smoking furiously.

He turned when he saw me, anger etched into every line of his face.

“I didn’t know,” he said immediately. “I swear, Luna, I didn’t know.”

I wanted to believe him. I needed to.

“They’re shipping me off like fucking cargo,” I hissed, voice cracking. “To Russia. Today.”

He cursed under his breath.

“We can fix this,” he said, stepping closer, lowering his voice. “I’ll help you get out. Tonight.”

Doubt and relief crashed over me, sharp and desperate. I couldn’t let myself hope. Not again. But...

I looked at him. He was still the devil I knew.

I should hate him. He drugged me, forced me into this marriage, humiliated me. But at least he wasn’t a complete stranger.

Misha Petrov? I didn’t know him. I didn’t trust him. And after everything I had seen, the way this world worked... the unknown was more terrifying than the devil standing right in front of me.

I could feel the weight of Gabriela’s trust on my shoulders. She was fragile, like glass in a storm, and I couldn’t leave her behind. If I ran, what would happen to her? Papa had already threatened her before. It was only a matter of time before she became a target too.

“I can’t leave her,” I whispered, my voice shaking with the enormity of it. “She’s all I have left.”

His jaw tightened.

“She’s not part of this,” he said. “This is about you.”

“If I leave, they’ll force her into it instead,” I said fiercely. “I won’t let that happen.”

Yuri hesitated. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.

But he nodded. “Fine. Both of you. We’ll find a way.”

I exhaled, trembling.

His eyes held the sincerity of someone who wanted to help, but was that enough?

But staying? Marrying Misha Petrov? Being taken like a slave to some no-man’s land?

That wasn’t survival.

That would be a slow death.

I packed fast. Only the essentials. A few changes of clothes. Money I had stashed away.

A knife I kept hidden beneath my mattress.

Gabriela watched me from the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Away,” I said, heart twisting. “Somewhere safe.”

Her hands shook as she clutched the worn teddy bear she never admitted she still slept with.

I touched her cheek gently. “Trust me,” I whispered.

She nodded, but her eyes were full of tears.

I hated that she still believed I could fix this. That I still believed it too.

In a few minutes, we were out of the main building. The estate was crawling with guards.

Twice we had to duck behind columns when footsteps approached.

Once, I nearly tripped over Gabriela’s dress.

We made it to the garden gates, the old servants’ entrance, half-forgotten.

Yuri was supposed to meet us there with a car. Freedom so close I could taste it.

My heart was thundering so loud I could barely hear over it.

Gabriela clutched my hand so tightly her nails dug into my skin.

“Almost there,” I whispered.

Almost.

I looked down at Gabriela, whose small hand shook in mine, eyes wide with confusion. My heart clenched painfully.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could fix this,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ll get us out of this, I swear it. No one’s touching you.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, but her eyes were already too knowing for a girl her age.

We were so close, so close I could see the headlights of a black car waiting just beyond the property line.

The car Yuri promised.

One more step.

Then another.

Gabriela’s hand was trembling in mine.

I squeezed it tighter.

A shadow moved ahead of us.

For a breathless second, I thought it was Yuri.

Relief flooded me.

Until a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I spun, swinging the knife I’d hidden, but a gloved hand caught my wrist easily.

Two more guards materialized from the darkness, weapons drawn.

“Luna Rojas,” the taller one said, voice cold. “Come quietly.”

I kicked. I fought. I screamed.

Gabriela cried, begged. But it was useless.

Steel arms locked around me, dragging me back toward the estate like a feral animal. And somewhere behind me, I thought I saw a figure watching. Unmoving.

I didn’t need to guess who it was.

Misha Petrov.

Always a step ahead. Always the shadow at my back.

Papa was waiting in the great room when they dragged me in. Cigar in hand, suit immaculate, rage barely contained behind his thin smile.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he said, voice low and lethal.

“After everything I sacrificed, this is how you repay me?”

I struggled against the guards holding me.

“Sacrificed?” I spat. “You sold me to save your empire!”

“I made you valuable!” he roared, slamming his fist onto the marble table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “Without me, you’re nothing but a burden!”

My chest heaved, fury and fear choking me.

“You’re ruining everything,” he said, stepping closer, jabbing a finger at my face. “If this deal falls through, do you know what will happen? You think the Petrov Bratva will let you live? You think the cartel families will forgive your betrayal?”

I stared at him, hatred burning in my gut.

“If you refuse to cooperate,” he said too softly, “Gabriela will take your place. She will marry whoever I choose. Or worse.”

Gabriela.

Sweet, fragile Gabriela.

My mouth dried.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t.

“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll go but you must promise not to force Gabriela into marriage.”

He smiled then, cruel and victorious. “If I get good reports of you. Gabriela will be fine.”

Hours later, I sat on the edge of my bed, numb. Gabriela clutched my hand like she was afraid I’d vanish. The door creaked open. One of the housekeepers entered, her voice tight with nerves.

“Senorita... there’s news. About Senor Yuri.”

I didn’t breathe.

“What news?”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “He was found dead. Shot in the head. Twenty minutes ago. No witnesses.”

The world blurred. Gabriela gasped, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I just sat there, ice locking my limbs in place.

Yuri was gone.

And deep down, I already knew who was behind it. Misha Petrov didn’t make idle threats.

I had expected it. I had hoped not to. But hope was a fragile thing, and Misha crushed fragile things like they were nothing.

He hadn’t killed Yuri for me. He’d done it to claim what he thought was his.

My skin crawled at the thought—and yet some twisted part of me wasn’t surprised.

Papa arrived moments later. Unbothered. Smug.

“You leave for Russia in an hour,” he said, dropping a sleek envelope on the bed. “Misha’s jet is waiting. Don’t keep him waiting.”

No condolences. No explanation. Just the next command.

The monster I was being fed to had opened his mouth, and my father shoved me in.

Gabriela’s hand trembled in mine. Her eyes begged me to fix it. To stop this.

“I’ll get us out,” I whispered fiercely. “Whatever it takes.”

She nodded, but I saw it—the flicker of doubt.

I didn’t blame her.

Even I didn’t believe my own voice.

The drive to the airstrip was suffocating. Four guards. One driver. No words.

But the silence was nothing compared to what waited at the jet.

Misha.

He stood at the top of the staircase, backlit by sunrise, his coat flaring slightly in the wind. He looked like something carved from shadow and fire.

His eyes met mine. No smile. No warmth. But not entirely cold either.

There was something else there. Something darker. He watched me like he’d already undressed my soul—and didn’t like what he saw.

My feet moved without permission.

Up the steps. Each one heavier than the last.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t touch me. Just stepped aside, letting me pass.

I stopped beside him.