Semua Bab SHADOW OF VOW'S: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The gala continued in full swing, a grand display of power, wealth, and deception. The air smelled of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and the underlying tension of unspoken rivalries. As I moved through the crowd, my arm looped through Nikolai’s out of sheer necessity, I felt suffocated by the weight of expectations pressing down on me.He had insisted we make the rounds together, greeting the most powerful figures in the underworld, exchanging pleasantries with people who would kill us if given the chance. My smile was a well-rehearsed lie, my posture an act of defiance against a fate I had never chosen.Nikolai, on the other hand, thrived in this environment. He was the epitome of confidence, every smirk, every calculated glance, designed to assert his dominance. His hand rested possessively on my waist, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to think I was anything less than his."You look like you’re contemplating murder," he murmured near my ear, his lips barely brushing my sk

Alessia Moretti The penthouse was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below and the occasional soft click of the air conditioner. I leaned against the cool marble of the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching as Stassie paced in front of me like a woman possessed. Her hands flailed as she spoke, her expression somewhere between exasperation and desperation. "Alessia, I swear," she groaned, "if you don't at least try to enjoy yourself before this whole sham of a wedding, I might actually lose my mind." She stopped abruptly, turning to face me with a dramatic glare that would’ve made a lesser woman flinch. I rubbed my temples, already exhausted by the conversation. "Stassie, do you even hear yourself? You’re asking me to celebrate the end of my freedom. You want me to throw a party for a wedding I don’t even want." "Correction," she shot back, stabbing a finger in my direction. "I want you to have *one* fun night. One. Before you get shackled to a Bulgarian mobster for lif

The air in the conference room was thick with tension, the kind that wrapped itself around your throat and didn’t let go. I sat at the head of the table, elbows resting on the dark wood, fingers steepled beneath my chin. Zayn lounged across from me with a deceptively casual posture, but even he wasn't immune to the shift in my mood. My most trusted men stood silently along the wall, posture rigid, eyes flicking between me and the silent screen where the security footage from the last few days played on a loop.No one dared speak first. That was smart.“I want to know,” I said finally, voice low but sharp, “how a fucking letter ended up on Alessia’s windshield under our watch.”One of the younger men, Emil, shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on the footage, pausing it at the moment the envelope appeared beneath the windshield wiper of her car.“You see this?” I pointed at the screen. “This right here is what failure looks like.”Zayn cleared his throat. “We’ve

The car ride was suffocating.The silence between Nikolai and me wasn't peaceful or empty—it buzzed with unspoken words, with tension so sharp it could slice the air in two. I sat rigidly against the leather seat of his sleek black SUV, arms folded tightly across my chest as the city lights blurred past the window. He didn’t say a word. Typical. Always the silent brooding type when he knew he was in the wrong.Not that he'd ever admit it.My phone buzzed. A message from Stassie: *"Zayn is too much. This man is dangerous in all the worst ways. Wish me luck."*I smirked and quickly replied: *"If he kisses you, bite him."* Then I tucked the phone back into my clutch and stared straight ahead. My body was still humming from the adrenaline, from the nightclub confrontation, from *him* stepping in again like some overbearing shadow looming over my life.He turned the wheel with practiced ease, eyes fixed on the road, jaw clenched. The tension radiating from him was palpable, matching mine n

Nikolai Volkov The meeting with the wedding planner had barely ended when I found myself pacing the hallway outside my office, jaw clenched and fingers twitching with anticipation. Alessia’s sarcasm still lingered in my mind like the remnants of an irritating perfume—sharp, invasive, and impossible to ignore. And yet, underneath all the aggravation, I could still see the glint in her eyes when she challenged me, the fire she tried so hard to conceal. It was a maddening dance we performed, this back-and-forth of cold barbs and reluctant magnetism. But there were more pressing matters than navigating the battlefield that was my relationship with my fiancée. Zayn leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent from his face for once. He knew what today meant. This wasn’t about sending a message. It was about making a statement. “You sure you don’t want to send Roman or Sergei?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with caution. “You know they’d take care of it wit