Page 138 of Vow Of Fire

“Yeah,” I lied. “I’ve got to go. Talk later.”

She gave an annoyed grunt and hung up.

I lowered my phone, ignoring the painful tightness in my chest. Evelyn was watching me cautiously, as if afraid to speak. Afraid of what she might hear.

A heavy silence settled over the suite. Rain streaked the windows while the city glittered coldly below us.

“Is everything alright?” she asked eventually.

“No, it’s not.” I hated myself for what I was about to do, but suddenly it had all become crystal clear. That horrific vision of her lying on the concrete floor, blood tainting her porcelain skin, was going to become a reality if I didn’t cut her loose. Or as loose as it was possible for me to cut her under the circumstances.

She frowned, blissfully unaware of the dark direction my thoughts had taken. “What happened?”

“The cartel retaliated. A Bratva warehouse burned tonight. Also, somebody tried to take out Alexei Malakov.”

Her face paled. “Oh my God. Is he alright?”

“He’s fine.” The coldness in my voice made her flinch, just like I knew it would.

Good, I thought savagely. Distance was necessary right now.

I thought I’d been protecting her by claiming her as mine, by bringing her here to my apartment, by installing armed guards. But all I’d done was advertise her.

Anyone paying attention would know what she meant to me. She was my fucking Achilles heel, my kryptonite, and if the cartel, or even Malakov, wanted to hurt me or my family, all they had to do was take one look at that fiery red hair and those gorgeous green eyes.

Jesus, I’d been such an idiot.

I might as well have stuck a big fat target on her back for the world to see.

She was staring at me, a confused look on her face. “Are you okay?”

I steeled my shoulders and took in a ragged breath. “Look, this is getting dangerous. I think we should move you to a safehouse.”

She stared at me. “Why?”

“It’s not safe for you here.”

With me.

“But… but you said you’d protect me. Isn’t that why I moved here?” The way she was looking at me, it tore my fucking heart out.

“I was wrong. It was a mistake. This—” I waved my hand between us— “was a mistake.”

She went very still.

“I don’t understand. Just now—” Her gaze shifted to the kitchen counter where I’d pleasured her only moments ago. It felt like an eternity now.

I gritted my teeth and forced out the words. “There’s nothing to understand. I can’t have you here right now, things are going to get ugly.”

“They’re already ugly.” She came over to me and laid her hand on my arm. “Dante, I thought we were in this together. Us against them.”

It was my turn to flinch. I pulled my arm away and took a step backward, putting some space between us. She dropped her hand, surprised. I saw the hurt in her eyes and cursed under my breath. I fucking hated doing this, but it was necessary. There was no other way to keep her safe. She’d become a liability, a weapon to be used against me.

“There is no us,” I said coldly. “There is only my family, and you. Once we get rid of the threat from the cartel and secure our network, that will be the end of it.”

“What about my gallery?” she whispered, her skin pale now. Her eyes were huge and haunted in her beautiful face. The vice crushing my chest tightened.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your gallery back.” I was sure we could find somewhere else to launder our drug money. Galleries were popping up everywhere. We’d choose one in Chelsea, far away from the Agora. She’d suffer without the inflated prices we offered, but then she’d still have Malakov.