Page 47 of Vow to Claim You

I’m standing by the window when there’s a knock on the door. My body jerks, startled by the sound.

“You can come in,” I say.

The door opens, and Aric steps inside. He comes to a stop behind me, close enough that I can feel him there without turning around. The presence. The weight. Like the air itself has adjusted to accommodate him.

“Luca will leave Norway tonight,” he declares. “Alive.”

My shoulders sag before I can stop them. Relief floods me so sharply it nearly hurts.

“But not untouched,” he continues, and there it is. The other half. The part I knew was coming.

I turn slowly and face him. His expression is unreadable, carved into that familiar mask of restraint.

“The Gods were involved,” he adds, looking directly into my eyes. “This stopped being a matter between him and me the moment Domenico entered the equation. I spoke to Nikos before we left. Because of Chiara… he agreed.”

Of course, everything is always traded in this world. Lives for lives. Mercy for leverage.

“What’s the punishment?” I ask, already knowing I won’t like the answer.

Aric’s jaw tightens for the briefest moment. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

I nod. Not because I don’t want to know, but because I understand he’s doing this for me. He knows I wouldn’t like whatever this is. Despite the circumstances, I appreciate it. He’s already bent his own rules further than most men ever would—for me.

“Can I…” I hesitate, then clear my throat. “Can I see him? Just once. Before… he goes.”

Aric’s eyes search my face, as if he’s looking for something specific. A reason to refuse.

“You loved him,” he states at last. It isn’t a question. It isn’t an accusation either. Just a fact laid bare between us.

I don’t respond. There’s nothing to defend. Nothing to deny. Love doesn’t disappear just because the world decides it’s inconvenient.

Something changes in his gaze. Subtle and almost imperceptible. The kind of change you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it, but I’ve learned to read this man’s limited facial expressions.

“You can have your goodbye.” His voice rumbles through the room. “After that, there is no more contact. Ever.”

My chest tightens, but I nod again.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Aric turns toward the door, opens it, and pauses. “Be ready.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “When you come back… you come back as my wife.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Aric

Isit in my office in the dark. The fire’s burned low in the hearth, ash pulsing dull orange under the last of the wood. The wall of windows behind my desk shows nothing but the polar night and long, pale stripes of snow stretching across the lawn. Amber laps against the crystal as I rotate the whiskey glass between my fingers, giving my hands something to do while my mind refuses to be still.

Thinking… A habit I despise.

Ayanna is with him now.

The thought breaks through me like a foot through thin ice.

I should’ve refused.

I should’ve looked at her in that bedroom and said no. I should’ve reminded her that the man she’s about to see tried to put a bullet in me, walked into my home to take her, and the only reason he still has a pulse is because I am, by my own goddamn admission, trying to be the man she thinks she’s married to.

I should’ve refused.