Page 93 of The Promise

He wondered what pushed Masha to the edge when she—knowing her place, risking punishment—chose to speak out of turn. Roman wasn’t the kind of monster who would punish her for the behavior, but she didn’t know that.

That’s why he worried.

Did she know something?

Hear something?

Roman wasn’t really paying attention to the road while he drove—the vast freeway bare but for a few sparse cars with headlights they didn’t even bother to dim behind him, or speeding on by. Assholes. Shit, he was already doing twenty over the limit.

At least, he had his new apartment to look forward to.

Finally, a friend of his, connected to another captain in the bratva had procured an apartment Roman could safely hide away in. For a few months, anyway. He was exhausted moving to a different hotel every few days.

He was back to that ... no bed of my fucking own.

Marky was supposed to meet him for a drink when he finally rolled into the city, but he needed to pop over to the apartment first and grab his phone. Not to mention, the damn time.

He didn’t take the phone with him to Vermont because he wanted to disconnect from everything. There were a lot of ways he could be traced, he opted to eliminate as many as he could. It was selfish enough for him to go there in the first place. The very least he could do was lessen the trouble it might bring.

It wasn’t like he was totally disconnected from what was happening outside the bubble he’d created for Karine. The bulls were there—they all had access to phones. His mother always had a direct line to his father.

Not that he expected Demyan to be impressed by his trip, either way. Some shit never changed, right?

So far, his quick jaunt to Vermont had passed smoothly, and he was glad he got to see Karine—even if it was just for a night. What harm had he done, really, even if it was only inspired by his selfish need for him to have her hear the words that had been festering inside him.

But what good would loving her do when she also learned he still hadn’t told her the truth about her father. Maybe next time he would, so for now she could remain blissfully unaware. He, on the other hand, let the guilt gnaw away at the ice in his chest.

That shit had been melting for a while.

Apparently, he had a heart.

Perfect.

At least, it was for her.

Roman reminded himself of that as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel after chucking the cigarette out of the window. He was about to turn up the volume on the stereo touchscreen when he felt his hands lose their grip on the wheel.

All at once.

Time had never slowed for Roman—except for the moment he saw Karine in that pool—but it did right then. It didn’t feel entirely the same, but the sense of impact was still very much real.

A split-second later, his body crashed to the side, and then forward. Straight into the airbag that had already blown. His car spun out of control, metal scraping pavement as glass instantly cracked and shattered all in one go.

It had flipped.

His car rolled.

Roman was already confused.

Somewhere behind the rushing of blood in his splitting ears, a horn blared continuously,

He’d been hit.

Surreal couldn’t quite explain it, but then he lost consciousness, and it didn’t even matter.

• • •

Fuck.