Page 119 of Brutal Vows

When the scene is set, I change coats, making sure to put on the one with the least blood on it. Camo fucking sucks; when it comes to blood, black is the only choice. I go outside and haul in all the fuel cans. I gauge the distance between the car and the cabin.

Fuck it.

I walk back to the car, open the passenger door and lean in. “I need you to wait outside. At least fifty more yards from here. I don’t want things to go wrong.”

“Okay. There were gunshots?”

“Just me covering our tracks. Give me the baby carrier.”

Milana steps outside and helps me put it on. I have my coat on again, but don’t zip it up. I guide her, with Zoe, to stand further away, pushing the motorbike to the same spot.

“Here, let me help you with that.” I put her helmet on, and this time, she doesn’t protest like she did all those weeks ago when we got married. Did I call it the perfect muzzle? Fuck me. I was a real fucking dick, but the memory makes me smile. “Get ready for the ride of our lives, my queen and my princess.”

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, flipping her visor up.

“Just a fond memory.” I lean in and tilt my head to put a peck on her nose. “You, me, our first bike ride together. How you crapped me out in Russian.” I flip her visor closed. “Back in a minute.”

At the cabin, I give the place one last inspection. This is as good as it’s going to get. The rest, I’ll leave to fate. I take a fuel can and empty it in the other room, bending low to make sure it doesn’t splatter on my shoes or pants. I close the door, but the pungent smell ribbons through the cabin already, begging for a flame’s kiss.

Now I’m extra careful. The fire in the hearth has burned down, but this is still an explosive situation. I grab a set of matches off the floor and open all the fuel cans. I manage to drain two out along the walls before it’s clear I need to get the fuck out of there. I tip one more over and then step outside with the last can, to douse the interior of the car.

I light a match and toss it inside, just as the cabin explodes into flame from the inside, sparks from the hearth having ignited the fuel into liquid fire.

I race to the bike, cursing under my breath as each step is like a stab in my injured thigh. As I glance back, flames are already roaring from the windows, the glass broken by the heat, and licking their way towards the roof.

“Help me,” I huff, not knowing how to put Zoe in the carrier.

Milana flips up her visor. “Here, like this.” She guides Zoe in, directing her head so her face nestles against my chest.

As she tightens the straps, and I have my hands on Zoe’s little back. “My most precious cargo, in front.”

“Yes. Be careful.”

I close one hand on her shoulder, my other on Zoe’s head. “And my most precious cargo behind me. I’m going to be hugged from all sides by everything I love.”

She stills, her eyes soften, and there’s a look in them I can’t decipher, not in the dark. “Luca⁠—”

“Later. We need to go before this shit spreads.”

She glances at the cabin and then at the car, which is a ticking bomb.

“Right.” She closes my coat’s zipper, the jacket big enough to cover Zoe. Not my first choice of transport for our baby girl, but here we are, about to head out on the road for our first big adventure. This one is going to be a biker girl, I sense it in my gut already.

“You’re ready?” I ask as I put my helmet on.

“Yes. I’ve managed to put the baby bag in the backpack,” she says, turning to show me where it’s strapped to her back.

“Good. I’ll get on first and you hop on? You’ll manage?”

“Yes.”

No back chatting this time. No snarky comments. I’ve managed to turn my rebel wife into a sweet obedient lamb. Imagine that.

“Trust me?” I ask, reaching for her one last time.

“Always.”

With those final words, I pull on my gloves, swing onto the bike and kick it off its stand, holding the handlebars steady as I wait for her to hop on.