Semua Bab SHADOW OF VOW'S: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Alessia Volkov “There are choices you make knowing they’ll haunt you. And others… you make because you’re already haunted.”I shouldn't be doing this.Every rational part of my mind screamed it, begged me to turn around, to call Nikolai, to tell someone—anyone. But my hands stayed on the wheel, knuckles pale from the tension. I kept driving, as if possessed.The city faded behind me, replaced by the outskirts—industrial buildings and empty lots that looked like they’d been abandoned by God himself. Viktor had chosen a small café tucked at the edge of a forgotten neighborhood, far from curious eyes, far from backup. The kind of place where people disappeared and the world kept turning.I checked the address again on my phone. The screen was slightly cracked—something I hadn’t noticed until now. Funny how you only saw the fractures when the light hit just right.Much like people.I turned onto a side street, then another, trying to remember everything Nikolai ever taught me. Pay attent

Alessia Volkov The ride back to the penthouse felt like a blur, like I was watching the city rush by from outside my own body. My heart was still racing, though the cold night air had long stopped stinging my skin. I clutched the steering wheel tighter than necessary, my knuckles aching with the pressure, as Viktor’s words echoed again and again in my mind like a sick mantra."Trap him, Alessia. Bring Nikolai to me. Or your friend dies."Every syllable had sunk into my skin like barbed wire, wrapping tighter the longer I thought about it. It wasn’t just a threat — it was a sentence. A twisted ultimatum that had the power to shatter everything I was trying to protect.Stassie. Sweet, funny, innocent Stassie. She had nothing to do with this world. Nothing to do with mafias, or weapons, or blood-drenched vengeance. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into the shadows because of me.And yet… she was.I parked the car in front of the building, staring up at the penthouse windows. The lights

Zayn LancasterThe hospital reeked of antiseptic and despair. That sterile, cold scent that clings to the walls and crawls under your skin until you feel like you're drowning in it. I hated hospitals. Too clean, too white. Too full of ghosts.I moved down the hallway, boots echoing softly against the tile. Everything around me felt muted, like the world had been turned down to a low, distant hum. No one stopped me. Maybe it was the way I walked, or the look in my eyes that said *don’t ask me shit*. Or maybe they could just smell death on me—mine, or someone else’s. Didn’t matter. I had one destination.Room 307.I stopped at the door, fingers curling around the handle like it might burn me. I took a breath. Then another. And then I opened it.The world paused.She was there.Stassie.Hooked up to a tangle of machines and wires, her skin pale against the white hospital sheets. Bruises painted her arms like broken constellations. Her lips, usually quick with sarcasm or a biting laugh, w

The sterile smell of disinfectant lingered thickly in the air, almost suffocating but strangely comforting all the same. I sat rigidly beside Stassie’s hospital bed, my eyes fixed on the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin, scratchy hospital blanket. Machines beeped steadily, each sound a fragile pulse of hope, a reminder she was still clinging to life, still fighting whatever darkness tried to pull her away. My fingers were intertwined tightly with hers, trembling slightly as I whispered the same desperate prayer, over and over, like a mantra I couldn’t break. Please wake up. Please come back to me. I needed her—more than ever.The room was quiet except for the mechanical beeps and the distant murmur of nurses gathered at the front desk, voices muffled and indistinct behind the door. My mind spun uncontrollably, weighed down by Viktor’s chilling threats, Nikolai’s simmering fury, and the endless, painful wait beside my best friend. I hadn’t slept in hours, my body exha

Viktor Natov They think they’re safe.Fools.They think a change of location, a private army, and a few layers of bulletproof glass can protect them from me. As if I haven’t spent my entire life unraveling stronger empires than theirs. As if fear isn’t the greatest weapon of all—and mine is well-honed, precise, and always effective.I watched the footage on the screen before me, every second of chaos in that hospital burned into my memory. The flames licking the walls. The panic. The desperation in Alessia’s eyes as she tried to push that hospital bed. The sheer terror in her voice when she screamed for help. And then the way she clung to Nikolai Volkov when he arrived like some fucking hero.The fire was never meant to kill her. Not yet. Just frighten her. Just show her that she isn’t untouchable. That no matter how tightly he wraps her in his arms, he’ll never protect her from what’s coming.But the plan hadn’t gone off perfectly. Not entirely.She survived. So did her little frien