Page 39 of Scarred Bratva King

Elena bites back a laugh, shaking her head as she fiddles with the train of the dress. “You know, I nearly believe you’d do it.”

“Nearly?” I smirk, lifting my arms so she can smooth the fabric over my hips.

The humor fades as my mind drifts to darker thoughts. The weight of the day settles on my shoulders, and I catch my reflection again. My stomach twists with nerves.

“Elena...” I hesitate, my voice quieter now.

She looks up, her expression softening. “What is it?”

“What if Marco shows up today?” I ask, my words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I know it’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about it. He could ruin everything.”

Elena straightens, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “Marco can’t touch you now,” she says firmly. “Maxim won’t let him. You’re safe here, Veronica. I promise.”

I nod, forcing a smile, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. “Thanks,” I murmur. “God, I’m nervous. Is that weird? I mean, I know it’s not really real so why am I nervous?”

“Because you both know it means something.” She steps back, giving me an approving once-over. “You look beautiful,” she says with a smile. “Maxim’s not going to know what hit him.”

The scent of roses, lilies, and orchids fills the air. At the end of the room is a set of double doors. On the other side is where it will happen. I will become Maxim’s wife.

I hear the rustle of fabric or the soft shuffle of feet as Victor approaches. His presence is announced not so much by sound but by the sheer weight of his aura. His piercing blue eyes scan me with calculated precision, trying to find a crack somewhere in my façade.

“Miss Bennett,” he says. “I believe this is your moment of glory. Marrying into such wealth must be quite the step up for you.”

“Mr Stepanov.” I nod, forcing a smile that I hope doesn’t look too much like a grimace. “I’m not marrying him for his money.”

He offers me his arm, and though it looks like an act of chivalry, his grip is bruising as soon as my hand touches his. I take his arm anyway, lifting my chin and trying to ignore the cold knot forming in my stomach.

“So why are you marrying him?” As we move toward the towering double doors that lead into the ceremony, he leans down slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’re quite the actress,” he says, his tone calm but edged with steel. “But let’s not waste each other’s time. We both know this isn’t real.”

My pulse stumbles, but I keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a low chuckle, more amused than warm. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Do you think I can’t see through this little charade? My son plucks some nobody from obscurity, andsuddenly, he’s madly in love? Convenient timing, don’t you think?”

I stiffen at his words, my nails biting into his arm. “I’m not a nobody.”

“Then who are you, exactly?” He turns his head slightly to look at me, his gaze sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a girl Maxim’s hired to play a part. You don’t belong in this world, Miss Bennett. The Bratva is not a game. It’s a legacy, one that matters more than you could possibly understand.”

I bite back the sting of his words and force myself to meet his gaze. “You’re wrong about me.”

He snorts softly. “Am I? Let me explain something to you. This empire—what Peter Ivanov and his family built over generations—it’s not just wealth or power. It’s survival.

“The Bratva protects its own, but only if its leaders are strong. My son’s enemies are circling, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness. If you’re part of that weakness, you’ll get him killed. Is that what you want?”

His words hit like a slap, but I refuse to flinch. “Maxim isn’t weak,” I say firmly. “And neither am I.”

Victor’s lips curl into a faint smirk. “Brave words. But bravery won’t save you when the wolves come knocking.”

“I’m not afraid of wolves,” I snap, the words out before I can stop them.

He pauses, his gaze narrowing as though he’s reevaluating me. “You are a good liar,” he says to himself. “Or telling the truth. Do you love my son?”

“I’m not lying,” I say, looking him right in the eye. “I love Maxim.”

The declaration surprises even me. He stops walking, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

“Do you really?” he asks, his tone softer but still skeptical.

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