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CHAPTER 66
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2025-05-20 20:53:16
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SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 66
Alessia Volkov I didn’t sleep much. Between Stassie’s tear-stained confession and the image of Viktor Natov's cold eyes, my mind had been restless. When I finally slipped out of bed, the penthouse was silent, bathed in the soft grey light of early morning. I padded barefoot into the kitchen, tying my robe as I went, determined to do something useful—like cooking breakfast. A distraction, really. Something normal. Familiar.I cracked a few eggs into a bowl, whisking them quietly while glancing over my shoulder at the guest room door, still closed. She hadn’t moved all night.Poor Stassie. She’d curled up on the edge of the bed, knees to her chest, like she was trying to shrink herself into nothingness. The confident, radiant woman I knew had broken down in my arms like a child, and it hurt to see her like that.Zayn. The name rolled in my mind like a bitter pill.He wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, that was the problem—he was too good at pretending he wasn’t a bad guy. Charming, clever, mad
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 65
Alessia Volkov The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the central air and the distant buzz of traffic from the city below. I had changed into an oversized hoodie after my shower, curling up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of chamomile tea that had long gone cold. The television played something in the background — a cooking show, I think — but I wasn’t really watching.I was lost in thought. Again.My mind kept circling back to that moment. The smoothie bar. The way Viktor had looked at me, like a man studying his next move in a very personal chess game. His words still clung to the edges of my thoughts like barbed wire: “If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have made it home.”My stomach twisted again. Not from fear — not anymore. The fear had morphed into something else entirely. A sense of exposure. A crack in the illusion of safety Nikolai tried so hard to build around me.I hated how vulnerable I had felt in front of Viktor. But more than that, I hated how powe
SHADOW OF VOW'S CHAPTER 64
Alessia Volkov My hands were still trembling by the time I got to the entrance of the penthouse. I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, the adrenaline, or the lingering fear slithering through my veins like poison. The encounter with Viktor Natov had lasted no more than ten minutes, but it had imprinted itself on my bones like a scar — fresh, raw, and impossible to ignore. I could still hear his voice echoing in my head. Still see the way his lips curled as he spoke my name, as if he had known it his entire life and had simply been waiting for the perfect moment to say it aloud. His calmness was the most terrifying part. There was no rage in him. No wildness. Just complete, calculated confidence. The kind of confidence that only comes from knowing exactly how much power you hold. I didn’t wait for the elevator to be called up by security. I stormed in, ignoring the wide-eyed glance of the guard at the desk. He didn’t try to stop me, probably because my face made it clear that I
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
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