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CHAPTER 41
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2025-04-24 00:10:00
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SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 63
Alessia Volkov The rhythmic pounding of my feet against the treadmill had been the only thing keeping me sane for the past hour. No guards. No glowering Russian men with moral gray zones. No calculating glances across mahogany desks. Just me, the beat of my playlist, and sweat—glorious, cathartic sweat.It was my version of therapy.I stretched, inhaling deeply as I wrapped my hoodie around my waist and pulled the baseball cap lower over my eyes. I didn’t want attention. I just wanted a smoothie and a moment of peace. My limbs ached in that satisfying post-workout way, and I felt strong. Grounded.For the first time in days, I felt like me.And then the universe, in its usual twisted sense of humor, decided to take that away.I walked across the street to my favorite little smoothie bar. Small, locally owned, and blessedly unpretentious. The kind of place where the barista knew my order, smiled without being fake, and didn’t give a damn about mob wars or power plays.Strawberry-bana
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 62
Nikolai Volkov There’s a rhythm to war.Not the chaos people imagine. Not screams or fire or smoke. No—real war is quiet. Cold. Clean. It begins with blueprints. It lives in maps and code words, hushed meetings in steel rooms, and men who understand that silence is more powerful than any scream.I was never impulsive. Not when it came to blood.So when Viktor decided to draw first blood, he didn’t realize what he’d set in motion.He didn’t just kill two of my men. He didn’t just steal weapons. He tried to fracture the image I’d spent years cultivating—of a man untouchable, a man above weakness. That was his first mistake.And now it was my turn.---I stood in the war room of my compound—bare walls, reinforced doors, six screens flickering with live feeds, satellite imagery, and encrypted communications. The scent of steel and adrenaline hung in the air. Zayn leaned against the table across from me, arms crossed, his eyes locked on the blueprint projected in front of us.Three red ma
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 61
Nikolai Volkov The morning had begun with softness—a rarity in my life. Alessia’s scent lingered on my skin, on the sheets, in the air. My bed, usually cold and sterile, still held the warmth of her body, the ghost of her moans, the scratch of her nails across my back. For once, the world had been silent. Still. Peaceful.But peace never lasts long in my world.I stood by the window, shirtless, coffee in hand, watching the city breathe beneath the weight of sunlight. Alessia was still asleep behind me, her hair sprawled across my pillow like a silken halo. I could’ve stayed there. Pretended the war outside didn’t exist.My phone buzzed on the table.Zayn.I frowned. He wouldn’t call this early unless something was wrong.I answered. “What is it?”There was no greeting. Just a pause—too long—and then his voice, hard as concrete.“He hit us.”My fingers tightened around the ceramic mug. “Who?”“Viktor.”The name was enough to make my blood freeze. I turned away from the window, my jaw
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 60
Alessia Volkov I woke up to the scent of him. Masculine, dark, intoxicating—clove and leather and something uniquely Nikolai. The sheets were twisted around our bodies, still heavy with the sweat of the night before. My leg was draped across his, my arm resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my palm. His hand was in my hair. He hadn’t stopped touching me, not even in his sleep. My entire body ached in the most exquisite way. Muscles sore, lips swollen, thighs trembling even now. And yet... I didn’t want to move. Because if I did, I might have to face what happened. What I let happen. What I wanted to happen so badly I had clawed him open for it. I turned my face into his chest, breathing him in, remembering. Every kiss. Every touch. Every desperate gasp and whispered name. He hadn’t just fucked me. He’d ruined me. And worse, I let him. His fingers moved slowly through my hair, and I realized—he was awake. “How long have you been pretending to sleep?”
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 59
Nikolai Volkov The moment her lips touched mine, I knew I was done for. Not just in the way a man is undone by lust or desire, but in the way a king is brought to his knees by something far more dangerous—need. Raw, insatiable, undeniable. Alessia didn’t just kiss me. She devoured me. It started with a kiss, but it didn’t stay that way. One taste of her mouth, and every thread of restraint inside me snapped. I gripped her hips, pulling her flush against me, feeling the friction of her body through her dress, the softness of her curves aligning perfectly with mine. She moaned into my mouth, and I swear, I felt it echo in every inch of me. Her hands were everywhere—my shoulders, my chest, clawing at my shirt with a desperation that mirrored my own. I tore it over my head and tossed it away, barely registering where it landed. Her eyes swept down my torso like she wanted to consume me, her fingers following the same path. “God,” she whispered. “You’re…” “Yours,” I finished, voice
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 58
The silence in the penthouse was almost too loud. I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom, wrapped in sheer black lace, wondering if I’d officially lost my mind. Correction—Stassie had dragged me to the edge, but I’d jumped willingly. “This screams ‘take me now’, Alessia,” she had said earlier, holding up the lingerie with a devilish glint in her eyes. “Wear this and see how long Mr. Mafia King lasts before he breaks.” At the time, I laughed. Nervous. Unsure. Now, I wasn’t laughing. I was pacing. My fingers played with the hem of the robe I wore over the lingerie, a sheer cover that did absolutely nothing to hide the risqué outfit beneath. My heart thudded with the rhythm of anticipation and dread. The logical part of me said this was a mistake. That seduction wasn’t clarity. That I was playing with fire again. But another part of me—the reckless, curious, maybe-slightly-in-love part—wanted to see what happened when I stopped running. Since the shopping trip with St
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 57
Alessia Volkov By the time the driver pulls into the circular driveway of the Volkov estate, the sky has turned a dusky lavender, the sun retreating like it, too, needed to disappear for a while. My phone buzzes with a message from Stassie:"Tell the tall brooding husband I said "hi"(and also that he’s hot). Call me if he gets on your nerves. Or takes his shirt off. Whichever comes first."I smirk and slide the phone into my bag.The moment I step inside, the shift in atmosphere is immediate. The house feels... alert. Still. Too still.“Good evening, Mrs. Volkov,” one of the guards says from near the staircase, nodding curtly.I don’t respond. Not out of rudeness, but because something itches under my skin. A current. Like the quiet before an earthquake.My heels echo on the marble as I step further in. I expect to find Nikolai in his office, maybe going over documents or sipping that expensive whiskey he pretends he doesn’t enjoy.Instead, I hear voices.Low. Tense.I follow the sou
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 56
Alessia Volkov If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be strolling through Rodeo Drive with Stassie, arms heavy with shopping bags and a smile tugging at my lips, I would’ve called them delusional.And yet, here I am.“Try this one!” Stassie chirps, holding up a pastel blue mini dress against my chest. “It’s very ‘my-husband-won’t-know-what-hit-him’.”I arch a brow. “That’s oddly specific.”She grins, devilish and full of mischief. “Well, you’ve got that glow, babe. It’s only fair we give it a proper outfit.”I glance at my reflection in the mirror of the boutique’s velvet-draped fitting room. I do look… different. Lighter somehow. Still sarcastic, still guarded, but a little less broken.“You’re annoyingly observant,” I mumble, taking the dress from her and disappearing behind the curtain.“Right? It’s a gift.”I hear the rustling of more fabric being tossed over the fitting room door. Stassie is a menace when she shops—an enthusiastic one. She’s been chattering nonstop si
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 55
Nikolai Volkov The moment the envelope hit my desk, I knew it wasn't just another threat. It was too formal, too clean, too deliberate. The kind of envelope that meant war—not just in words, but in legacy.I didn’t open it right away. Instead, I stared at it for a moment, feeling the familiar sting of anticipation burning just behind my sternum.It bore no return address. No emblem. Just my name, scrawled in neat, deliberate handwriting."Nikolai Volkov."I broke the seal with a blade, unfolding the letter with care. The message was short.“Let’s talk, Volkov. Face to face. One week. Neutral grounds. No backup—or do bring them. I want them to see what’s coming.—Natov”Bastard.He didn’t even bother to sign with a title. No “Don Natov,” no initials. Just a name. Like we were equals.We weren’t.And now, I had to remind him of that.—I gathered my men within the hour.The war room at the mansion felt colder than usual. Zayn stood at my right, arms crossed, his expression grim. Across
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