Page 61 of Never Distract a Biker

“I died and became a ghost,”

Viktor’s gaze hardens, his voice becoming quieter. “My father buried two caskets that week—one with my mother’s body, the other empty, marked with my name. To the world, Igor Makarov’s son was dead.”

I sit in stunned silence, the weight of his story pressing down on me.

“Why?” I manage to ask.

“To protect me. My survival was a secret only a handful knew. My father sent me to New York under the cover of night. I underwent surgeries, recovered, and became a ghost. A ghost who would one day return to reclaim his throne.”

I can barely breathe as he speaks, each word a revelation. I see him in a new light—this man who carries the weight of survival, loss, and duty.

“My father came to New York some months ago,” Viktor continues. “He told me it was time to take my place. But on his way back to Russia, he was murdered. Whoever killed him didn’t know I was still alive.”

My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, my fingers curling protectively over the small swell. This is the world my children will inherit—a world of blood and betrayal.

“What will happen to them?” I ask softly, my voice trembling.

Viktor’s gaze shifts to me, his expression softening. “They’ll be protected,” he says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I hesitate, my doubts bubbling to the surface. “I’m not like you, Viktor. I don’t know how to fit into this world. I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replies, pulling me closer. “You’ve fought for your mother. You’re fighting for our children. That’s all the strength you need.”

His lips brush my forehead, his warmth chasing away the chill of my fears. “You’ll make a perfect Bratva queen, Scarlett,” he murmurs. “Not because of where you come from, but because of who you are.”

His words settle in my heart, softening the sharp edges of my doubt. For the first time, I begin to see myself through his eyes—not as a girl lost in an unfamiliar world, but as someone capable of standing beside him.

We lie together in silence, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek. The storm of uncertainty inside me begins to calm, replaced by a sense of belonging I didn’t know I needed.

As the night deepens, my eyelids grow heavy. Viktor’s presence is a balm, his strength a shield against the unknown.

I drift into sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing. As my world fades to black, I know I’m not alone in this fight.

Viktor watches me drift off to sleep, his expression tender yet resolute. He brushes a stray strand of hair from my face, a silent vow forming in his mind.

In the quiet of the night, Viktor’s determination hardens. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he will face them head-on, for me and our children.

28

Scarlett

I hum softly as I stand in front of the mirror, brushing my hair into soft waves. My reflection stares back at me, a far cry from the restless, grieving woman I was just weeks ago. The mansion’s golden morning light pours through the grand windows, casting a warm glow across the luxurious room I now call my own—or rather, Viktor’s.

Life with Viktor has been ... different. In the past four weeks, we’ve found a rhythm, a fragile harmony amidst the chaos of our circumstances. His quiet protectiveness, the way he softens just for me, and his unspoken promises to keep me safe all play in my mind as I prepare for the day. There’s no denying that the walls between us are crumbling, brick by stubborn brick.

After getting dressed, I join Alina and Yelena for a Monopoly game in the lounge. The laughter between us is light andgenuine. Despite their intimidating Bratva upbringing, the twins have a charm that’s impossible to resist. They may have been raised in mega wealth, but they sure do not know how to flaunt it.

“Yelena, are you sure you want to make that move?” I tease, my voice dripping with playful skepticism as she hovers over a property card.

Her eyes narrow at me, and she smirks. “Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten how ruthless you are, Scarlett. You’re enjoying bankrupting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admit with a grin, leaning back in my chair.

“You know what’s interesting?” Alina chimes in, her tone laced with mischief. “How you said you’d never fall for our brother, and yet here you are, glowing like a woman in love. You may have to hug that porcupine.”

“Pregnancy hormones,” I counter quickly, waving them off. “That’s all this is.”

The twins exchange knowing glances, identical smirks playing on their lips. They’re not buying it, and honestly, neither am I.

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