Page 73 of Obsessed Bratva King

Elena’s lips twitch. “Ivan, of course.”

“He’s talked about me?”

Veronica cuts in, grinning. “Oh, Ivan talks. He doesn’t think he does, but he does. Can’t stop going on about his new wife.”

My heart does a slow, traitorous turn in my chest. “What did he say?”

Veronica winks. “Let’s just say he’s suddenly a lot more… expressive.”

My stomach twists, but I keep my face smooth. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Elena watches me carefully. “Of course you don’t.”

Veronica laughs. “This is going to be fun.”

Elena watches me in silence, her dark eyes calculating. It’s not an unkind look, but it’s sharp.

Then, suddenly, she smiles. “You don’t know whether to kiss him or kill him, do you?”

My mouth opens, then closes. My throat tightens.

“I’d say both is a safe bet.”

Her smile deepens, and she leans back, clearly satisfied.

Veronica lets out a sharp laugh. “We’ve both been there.”

I glance between them. There’s something unspoken between the two of them, a shared knowledge, a quiet solidarity that only comes from surviving the same kind of battle.

They know.

They know what it’s like to love a man who is both protector and destroyer. A man who could burn the world down with the same hands he uses to hold you.

Elena watches me a beat longer before she tips her chin. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Did he tell you?”

“Oh my God!” Veronica practically squeals, sitting up straighter. “Join the club. We should get tee-shirts.”

Elena’s expression softens, and she nods once, approving. “I think it’s wonderful. They’ll all grow up together.”

Veronica grins. “That explains why you look like you’re ready to throw up at the thought of breakfast.”

Despite myself, I let out a breathy, half-laugh. “That obvious, is it?”

Elena reaches forward, placing her hand lightly over mine, her touch warm and steady. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore, Cora.”

Her voice is softer now, less calculating, more maternal. “Bratva protects its family. Always. No matter what our men do in their world, at home, their wives and children are sacred.”

I nod slowly, my throat tight, my fingers gripping the armrest of the chair. It’s not that I don’t believe her—it’s that part of me still isn’t sure if I belong in this world.

My stomach knots. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Elena leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with the kind of poised elegance that says she’s never unsure of herself. “Do what?”

I gesture vaguely. “Any of it. Be a mother in this world. Be a wife. Be Bratva.” The last word tastes foreign on my tongue, like I’m testing it out, seeing if it even fits in my mouth.

Veronica snorts, tossing an olive into her mouth from the small dish on the table between us. “Sweetheart, you’re already doing it.”

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