Bratva Vows Complete Box Set: A Dark Mafia Romance

by SR Jones

  My phone vibrates on the table, and I look to see a missed call alert. It’s my girl, and I should call her back, but I don’t need to feel any worse than I already do. She’s been on a real anti-Andrius streak recently. Keeps telling me he’s dangerous and can’t be trusted, and I shouldn’t be living with a man like him.

  Her analogy pisses me off. Whenever I argue about how amazing he is with me, what he did for me, she simply shoots me down. She says I’m like one of those people who own a dangerous breed dog and then get upset when it attacks them. Which pisses me off in and of itself, because as I keep telling her, in my opinion there’s no such thing as a bad dog breed, but dogs that are treated badly and end up messed up. Same as us humans.

  Ugh. God, I am in such a shitty mood.

  I take my clothes off and clamber in under the covers, wondering if tonight little Violet and Big Bad will do it, and if so, what will that mean for all of us?

  Chapter 8

  Justina

  SIX MONTHS AGO

  It’s been a strange few days, what with Violet and Andrius all over one another, and my see-sawing emotions in response to them finally getting it on, wearing me out. I wanted this to happen between them, but now I kind of don’t.

  I’m a mess. Part of me likes Violet, likes her being here, but I can’t shake the increasingly strong sense that she’s somehow going to doom us all. Which will be my fault because I’m the one who pushed her and Andrius together.

  Shit, have I made a massive mistake?

  I don’t have any actual facts to account for this feeling. Simply an impending sense of doom and one that grows daily.

  Taking a left, I turn onto the road toward our house … well Andrius’ house, but I think of it as home also. It’s only five minutes from here. I bet the dirty pair are shagging again. The thought of it makes me feel strange.

  I don’t know why. Except maybe for the fact that I simply don’t get how any woman can want that. A man sticking his dick in her. It’s my idea of hell after what I’ve gone through. I can’t even have a smear without a valium beforehand. I enjoy sex with my girlfriend but penetration, of any kind, is off limits. I’ll do it to her, but won’t let her do it to me. Not even fingers. Nothing goes up there. I hate the sensation.

  Luckily for me, my girl is the queen of oral, but sadly for me, her Andrius issues are really starting to get in the way. She’s fucking obsessed. Wants me to move out and live with her, which honestly, might not have been such a bad idea, but makes me want to run a mile. This need to run a mile from the very suggestion has me realizing I don’t actually love her, not truly. If I did, I’d be happy she wanted to move things forward. I know Andrius would give me his blessing, and I could still work for him but simply live with her. The idea makes me feel trapped. Suffocated.

  It looks like the relationship is coming to an end None of them seem to last.

  The only person I seem capable of loving is Andrius. The guy who is now like a big brother—albeit a scary one.

  I think I need a pet. A pretty cat, or maybe a small dog. Something I can love unconditionally but can’t make demands of me, except to be fed and walked, which I can handle.

  Animals are better than people anyway. They don’t fuck one another over for the sake of it, for nothing more than to feel superior or earn a bit more money. Animals are loyal. People are nasty and two faced, on the whole.

  Maybe that’s why I like Andrius so much, other than the whole rescuing me from a life of hell stuff. He’s inherently honest. He doesn’t play games or tell stupid lies. I once told him my girlfriend didn’t like him, and he merely shrugged and said that was her right, but if she ever said it to his face, she’d no longer be welcome in his home. Simple. Down the line. No bullshit. He doesn’t cheat on women, either. He lets them know the score from the start.

  He has no interest in women who aren’t interested in him, no interest in paying for it, or fucking some down on her luck woman just because he can. I inherently respect that about him, which maybe means I have a low bar when it comes to respect, but it’s the truth. He might be a hired killer, but he doesn’t use women who are desperate.

  He looks like a fucking male supermodel, but he doesn’t give a shit about that either. When he asked me to sort some high-end clothes for him here in England, I did, and he’s relied on me to do so ever since. If it were up to him, I think he’d live in sweatpants.

  It’s refreshing and it makes me feel safe, because with him what you see is what you get. Most other people they flatter, and they lie and play games. Look at Allyov. He’s a wily and dangerous snake in the grass. Most of the men around him are too. Maybe not Mischa and Alexei, they’re simply the hired muscle, but all the others are. All vying for position and favors. Lying dirt bags, the lot of them.

  Wow, but my head’s been in a strange place these past days. I need to shrug off this grumpy shit and get back to enjoying my life and shopping.

  I throw the car into park, get out and head into the house, taking my time to make sure I put the security code in right. Be my luck to set the alarms off in the middle of Violet and Andrius screwing, and then they’ll both be pissed at me.

  Going straight into the kitchen, I place the bags on the counter, and try to decide whether I want a cup of tea, or a cold drink, when I hear banging and crashing from downstairs.

  Has someone broken in? I creep toward the stairs leading to the basement, and listen for a moment, wondering whether I need to go get my gun.

  Andrius is shouting, his words full of rage. I catch one thing, and my blood runs pure cold. “The daughter of the man who raped my fucking sister.”

  What the hell?

  I race down the stairs and push open the ajar door into the basement space. My heart misses a beat as I take in the scene in front of me.

  Holy fuck!

  Andrius is breathing like an angry bull, his massive chest rising and falling as if he’s running a marathon. Violet is on the floor, and she’s got sick on her and to the side of her. Then my eyes land on Andrius’ knuckles, and my stomach twists.

  “What the hell is going on? Did you hurt her?” I don’t know what is happening here, but the Andrius I know wouldn’t beat up on a woman, and certainly not on Violet. Unless … that sixth sense I’ve been feeling all week starts to blare like a car alarm in my head.

  Panic fills me. Is she here to ruin us? To bring Andrius down and take away the only place I feel safe? Did I trust the biggest snake of all, and worse, positively encourage Andrius to stick his dick in her? Oh my God.

  “She’s Petro Babiek’s daughter,” Andrius says.

  It’s the oddest thing, all the energy leaves my body as if someone has pulled the plug on me. I feel as if I might keel over at any moment.

  Petro Babiek.

  The name makes my skin crawl. It takes me right back to the brothel, to so many terrified women who used to whisper his name. The name of a man with legendary cruelty.

  No, no, no. She can’t be. It makes no sense. Why? Why the hell would his daughter be here?

  I tell Andrius as much. Babiek is dead.

  He answers me, his words coming as if down a long tunnel they’re so hard to take in, but I do hear as clear as day; she was after Allyov.

  I stare for a moment at Violet. Babiek’s daughter. The daughter of a man who abused women, and now she’s after Allyov, which means she’s more than aware of who her father is and what he did, and she doesn’t care.

  I’m moving before I can think. I want to break something, and the nearest thing is her.

  “You fucking bitch.” I kick out, and it lands on her stomach. Not good enough, lifting my leg again, I kick out only for it to hit nothing but air.

  I’m flying backward, cursing and shouting, but Andrius has me, and I’m not strong enough to get out of his grip.

  Violet is crying and begging and pretending she doesn’t know who her father was. So I let her have it. I can’t hit her again as I’m being held in a vice-like grip, and God
, Andrius is strong. I can let her have my words, though. I tell her what a piece of scum her daddy was, just in case she doesn’t know it all.

  Then I tell her that when it came to killing her family, no one shed any tears. “Allyov was a hero for what he did.”

  She retches again, but I don’t know if it is real or an act. She was trying to kill Allyov, so to me that means she has to know who she is, and who her daddy was, and still wants revenge for him. She came into our home, into Andrius’ bed.

  Christ, how must he feel? He’s fucked the daughter of the man who raped his sister? It’s the most screwed up thing I’ve ever heard, and I helped push them together.

  “You’ve got to kill her.” I look at him as I say the words, sickness eating at my stomach, but I won’t pussy out on this. I got him into this mess. Me and my meddling. Or, at least, I helped push events in a certain direction.

  “What? I thought you’d be the one talking me down here.”

  I try to talk sense into him. He has to know what it will mean for him if Violet goes to Allyov and tells him all about Andrius and his past. Allyov will know Andrius has lied to him and surely won’t accept that?

  I can’t believe I’m telling him to do this, and I can’t even look at Violet now; my initial anger is calming down and turning into despair at this whole fucking mess. He’s got to do it, though. It’s the only way we stay safe, and I can’t lose him.

  I can’t.

  And I cannot and will not go back to the life I led before. If Violet betrays Andrius, if he lets her live, and she harms him somehow, I’m left twisting in the wind. No protection, nothing.

  I’ll have to disappear and pray that none of Allyov’s crew come after me, and I’ll spend my life on the run and in fear.

  No. I can’t let it happen.

  “I hate saying this,” I tell him. “Don’t know if I’ll ever live with myself for it, but make it quick and painless, and tell Allyov she got away. It’s the only way to keep us safe.”

  “Fuck!” Andrius kicks a piece of furniture, and I wince as he turns to me. “You need to go.”

  “What?” He’s getting rid of me? No, no fucking way.

  “Whatever I’m going to do here, you don’t need to be part of it; plus, you need plausible deniability. Go. Go to the shops or something; make sure a lot of people see you.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he says with despair. He takes out his wallet and hands me a card. “Spend big and leave a trail.”

  I nod and know he’s right. I need to not be here. I don’t think I can bear to hear him kill her anyway.

  God, I’m a fucking coward. I want him to deal with her, but can’t face even hearing it. What a horrible person I’ve become.

  I leave the room without even looking at Violet again. I can’t. I think if I do, I’ll give in and beg Andrius to spare her, and then we’re all doomed.

  At least this way, I tell myself, Andrius gets to live his life as he wants going forward, and me too. Only Violet gets hurt in this scenario. She lives, and we’re all in danger.

  I drive away from the house, and my heart is pounding so fast and hard, I worry I might need a doctor. Shit, I need to calm down.

  I can’t, though. The more I try to, the worse the rising panic is. Panic that I’ll somehow have to go back there, to my old life, but also panic that if Andrius kills Violet it will be partly on my head, and I don’t want that.

  Not for me. Not for him. It will break him, I think. He has his moral code, and he thinks the code is the only thing to keep him on the right side of evil. If he kills Violet, a woman he’s been intimate with, he’ll never forgive himself. He’ll never forgive me either.

  Can I forgive myself? I don’t know why she’s in our home, and I don’t believe her explanation, not at all, but she’s clearly not a stone-cold killer. Maybe, she truly didn’t know exactly what kind of sick fuck her father was. She threw up for God’s sake, not a sign of someone who knows the facts.

  I hit the steering wheel with the flat of my palm and let out a cry of pure frustration and fear.

  I should hate her. Part of me does. But she’s young, tiny, and seemingly sweet, and the thought of Andrius putting a gun to her head…

  The road swims in front of me, and I pull sharply onto the grass verge and open my door just in time to vomit everywhere.

  Once I’m done emptying my stomach contents, I flop back into the seat, exhausted.

  I’m crying, I realize in shock. Not something I do much anymore.

  Then I’m moving. Turning the car around, I head for home breaking every speeding law of the land. I can’t let Andrius kill her, I can’t.

  I don’t know if I can ever look at her again. Maybe he’ll make her leave. Send her far away and tell her if she ever comes back, she’s dead, but he can’t kill her. If he does, then our safe little world is shattered anyway.

  He’ll destroy himself in doing so.

  I leap out of the car, storm up the stairs and to the front door, which is shockingly unlocked and unalarmed. I run inside, slamming it behind me, and shout for Andrius.

  “What?” He steps out of his bedroom and gives me a cold look.

  I’m babbling as I stare at him. “Where is she? Where’s Violet? You didn’t do it, did you?”

  I tell him I lost my mind and that I wasn’t rational when I left, and that he can’t kill her. I glance around wildly, trying to see evidence of what’s gone on.

  “She’s safe and sound, but not here. I’ve sent her away, to keep her safe while I go talk to Allyov,” he says.

  Allyov? What the hell? No, no way, he can’t. Allyov will kill him. Oh, this is worse than I imagined. I thought maybe he’d send Violet away, and then we’d have to cover that up, but he’s going to talk to Allyov? Has he lost his damn mind?

  “What?” I stare at him, in total horror. “You can’t. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill you, and then he’ll go for her.”

  “He won’t find her. She’s safe for now, and I’m about to make a phone call that will keep her safe for a lot longer. As for you,” he says with a sad smile. “How do you feel about a vacation?”

  Oh, no. He doesn’t get to send me away. I can’t do it. Can’t bear it. I’d rather stay here with him, even if we both end up dead.

  “No,”—I shake my head—“you said I’d always stay with you; don’t send me away.”

  “Only for a few weeks. It’s not safe.”

  “No, I can’t. I don’t want to. I can’t bear it.” The idea is about to make me vomit all over again. Me on the run, not sure if Andrius is safe, or if I’ll see him again. It’s unbearable. It would be different if he’d asked me to take a holiday a few days ago, give him and Violet some private time. It’s not as if I have to be next to him every second. But I can’t leave when I don’t know if he’ll be alive tomorrow. He’s my family, my only family. “I’d rather stay here and face the music with you, whatever it is.”

  I wait for him to tell me no. To insist I leave, but instead, he nods once and then tells me to get my gun, and to let no one in. He also says if he’s not back by midnight then I have to leave, no other option. His words kill me, but I nod and listen to his instructions about where to find the money I will need and who to contact if I need help.

  He tells me to set the alarm, and then he’s gone.

  The door shuts, and the silence in the house blares in my ears as loud as any siren. It’s too much, this silence. Too much for me to bear.

  Andrius is on his way to possible death. Violet is gone, I don’t know where, and I’m alone. All alone. All I can do now is wait.

  It doesn’t take long before I can’t contain the pit of snakes writhing in my stomach, and I’ll either scream, start to smash up this beautiful old house, or go insane. I head to the kitchen and open some wine. I drink the first glass down in five minutes flat. A little more stable, I pour a second and sip at this one.

  It seems forever before Andrius arrives back home
, but I see his headlights sweep up the drive before midnight, and I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.

  He opens the door, and then locks it, activating the alarms. I watch him closely. He seems insanely tired, but calm. Much calmer than earlier, which has to be good, right?

  “Are we on the lam?” I try to make a joke of it. I’ve had a shot of vodka in between the glasses of wine, and the speed with which I’ve been drinking means I’m a tad worse for wear.

  He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and says he’s tired. He goes to the coffee maker and turns it on, getting cups out and all the paraphernalia.

  “Andrius, God, give me a fucking clue; I’m dying here.” I get he is tired, but I need to know whether we’re about to die or not.

  “I think he’s going to leave us alone, Violet too,” Andrius says, his tone flat, exhausted. “But he wants me to be his second in return.”

  Oh wow. Okay, that’s okay, right? We can deal with that? I start to say something along those lines, but Andrius cuts me off.

  “I’m tired.” He finishes making the coffee and pushes a cup toward me. “Here. You need this. Go to bed, Justina. Tomorrow, if Allyov says yes to our deal, I’ll go bring Violet back, and things can go back to normal.”

  “Back here? You’re bringing her back here?”

  He smiles at me then, and I can’t decipher it. It’s grim, but there’s something almost like satisfaction lurking in his gaze. “Where else can the little rabbit go? She won’t be safe. Here, she will be.”

  “How?” I mean yeah, Andrius is here, but not all the time, and I can shoot, but I’m hardly a match for Allyov’s men.

  “Leave that to me. Trust me, if Allyov agrees to our deal, then you and Violet will be safe. I will personally see to it. And now, I’m going to bed because I’m fucking exhausted.”

  His accent is thicker than usual, a dead giveaway for just how tired he is, so despite my millions of burning questions, I nod and go take my coffee.