All Chapters of The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I never thought my hands would be stained with blood. Not like this. Not from a life I took. The metallic scent clung to me, thick and suffocating, mixing with the smoke and gunpowder in the air. My chest heaved as I gripped the gun tighter, my fingers numb from the recoil. The body at my feet wasn’t moving. It never would again. I had killed him. The realization hit me like a freight train, but there was no time to process it. The fight wasn’t over. Shouts echoed around me, the sharp cracks of gunfire splitting through the night. The Volkov estate was under siege, chaos erupting from every corner. The enemy had come prepared—an ambush, brutal and relentless. And I was in the middle of it. I turned, searching for Damian. He was a few feet away, fighting off two men with the kind of lethal precision that reminded me just how dangerous he truly was. His movements were sharp, efficient—one bullet to the chest, one to the head. He didn’t hesitate. Unlike me. I had hesitated. T

The scent of gunpowder and blood still clung to the air, a reminder of the storm brewing on the horizon. The Volkov estate was a fortress preparing for battle—men loading weapons, finalizing strategies, and securing every possible entrance. The tension was thick enough to suffocate, but somehow, amidst all of it, the only thing I could focus on was him. Damian stood across the room, speaking in low tones to his most trusted men. He was in his element—commanding, ruthless, and unwavering. His dark suit clung to his broad frame, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the inked scars of his past. And then, as if he felt my stare, he turned. Our eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away. This man. This man, who once saw me as nothing more than a pawn in his game, had become the only constant in my chaotic life. And I had become his. Damian dismissed his men with a sharp nod, then strode toward me with deliberate steps. He didn’t stop until he was clo

The moment I stepped into the dimly lit club, I knew I was playing with fire. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the scent of expensive whiskey, the kind that only men with too much power and too little conscience drank. Around me, bodies moved to the slow beat of the music, but I wasn’t here to dance. I was here to listen, to gather intel that could change everything. And if I got caught? Well, I wouldn’t have to worry about what Damian would do to me—because I’d already be dead. --- “Absolutely not.” Damian’s voice was sharp, final. I stood in front of him in his office, arms crossed, refusing to back down. “We need this information, Damian. You know we do.” “We’ll find another way.” “There is no other way.” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “They’ll never suspect me. I’m not one of your men. I don’t have a record. I can blend in.” His jaw clenched. “You think I’m going to let you walk into a room full of murderers and expect you to just walk out?” “I won’t be

The scent of blood and gunpowder clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The war had begun. I had always known it would come to this. Ever since I stepped into Damian’s world, I had been walking a fine line between survival and destruction. But standing here, amidst the chaos, I realized I had never felt more alive. The attack had been swift, calculated. The enemy had struck one of the Volkov territories—a warehouse that housed shipments vital to Damian’s operations. The explosion had lit up the sky like a second sun, and before we could react, their men had descended, bullets tearing through the night. Now, crouched behind a stack of metal crates, I gripped my gun tightly, my heartbeat steady despite the mayhem around me. Damian’s men fought with brutal efficiency, but the enemy had come prepared. They were pushing us back, forcing us deeper into the wreckage. I exhaled slowly, peeking out just long enough to spot one of their men reloading behind a truck. I didn't hesitate. Lif

The world outside was still in chaos. The war between the Volkov family and their enemies had escalated beyond anything I had imagined, and yet, in the middle of it all, I found myself sitting in a dimly lit warehouse, facing a man who thought he could break me. Viktor Petrov. A name whispered with either fear or contempt, depending on which side of the war you stood on. He was older, with graying hair and sharp, calculating eyes that reminded me of a predator sizing up its prey. He sat across from me, his posture relaxed, as if this was just another business meeting. But the men surrounding us, armed and ready, told a different story. “I’ll get straight to the point, Miss Romano,” Viktor said smoothly, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. “You don’t belong in this world.” I didn’t flinch. “Funny. I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” He smirked. “Then you know it’s true. A woman like you—beautiful, smart, capable—you deserve better than this life. Better than Damian Volkov.”