Page 64 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

He slips his arm around me after the bouncer lets us in.

The other night, when we shared all of those stories, talking about my brother with him felt very healing. I haven’t been able to talk to my siblings like that because they’ve been in as much pain as I have. Talking to Radmir, sharing those memories—it was cathartic and special. It was like I was keeping Grigor’s memory alive in my heart, but not in pain, in happiness instead.

And ever since I did that I’ve felt even closer to Radmir.

He makes me feel so safe. So protected and so adored.

It’s scaring me how close I’m growing to him.

I keep pushing the emotions away and they keep bubbling back up to the surface, stronger and stronger each time.

We make our way down the stairway into the sweaty, smoky arena. Similar music pulses through the air and I realize that the heavy beat must energize the fighters, blocking out the other sounds and the crowds yelling so that they can fully focus on what’s going on in the cage. Of course, you can’t block out the crowd fully. They are loud. Like seriously loud.

The fight going on as we walk in must be an especially exciting one as the people are going wild.

I glance towards the cage as we make our way to our usual table and see a man fly across the floor and slam into the bars with a loud clang. Wincing, I scrunch my nose and imagine the pain he might be in.

“Hey, hey,” Roman says, standing up and slapping his hand against his brothers in some secret handshake that only they know. “You got here just in time. He’s fighting next.”

“Excellent. Can we order drinks?”

“I’ve ordered a bucket of beers on ice. Uh… Jade is that ok with you?” Roman asks, raising his brows at me.

“Yup, I love beer. I have no problem with that.”

Roman nods, impressed. “I like a girl who drinks beer,” he chuckles.

Radmir throws him a warning look, a slight smile, and then tugs me close against him.

Roman puts his hands up in the air and laughs.

Renat walks up to the table. “Have the beers arrived yet?” he asks.

“Aren’t you—“ Radmir knots his brows, both of us staring at Renat in confusion.

“Aren’t I what? Santa Claus? The pope? You need to finish that sentence if you want me to answer,” he laughs.

“Aren’t you fighting?” Radmir asks, his voice sounding tight as though he’s already figured out the answer.

“He didn’t tell you,” Roman says tightly.

“Shit,” Renat says. “We thought you knew.”

“Ruvim is fighting,” Radmir says, clenching his jaw. The muscles rippling across his face.

Radmir is standing rigid next to me and I can feel the tension literally flooding off his body.

I step a little closer, trying to soothe him. He places his arms around my shoulders, then shifts and puts them on my waist, then shifts and takes my hand, then shifts and drops it.

“Hey,” I whisper against his ear, "He’s going to be ok.”

“Yeah.” He nods, not looking in the least bit relaxed.

I decide that he needs a little space, so I step away from him, grabbing two beers from the bucket and handing him one.

He takes a massive swig of it and stares dead straight into the cage.

The ref announces Ruvim, hyping the crowd about new blood and a cage virgin. Encouraging them to place bets, to take the chance, and to enjoy the gory show that is about to ensue.

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