Page 7 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

I patted him on the shoulder. “The day you shit your pants like a coward, pigs will fly. Save the tears, Damir. I’m not going to prison.”

“One count of aggravated assault and another for felony battery. This is a high-stakes situation. I know you’re invincible, but Jeffery knows how to pull strings.”

“Maybe. But I’m the master puppeteer.”

Damir narrowed his eyes. “Miron, youcouldgo to prison.”

“And yet, I’m walking out of here with a slap on the wrist and nothing more. If you don’t trust me, trust that Viktor won’t mess this up.”

The best part was that Damirdidtrust me. Sometimes, more than he trusted anyone else in the world, including himself. He wasn’t convinced about this case but didn’t press. He knew when to drop it, and for that, he’d gained a bit of my respect.

We both leaned back, watching and waiting, when Viktor rose to his full height to address the court and present his—or rather,my—defense.

Viktor was one of the most formidable attorneys in the legal profession. Fully experienced, ruthless when he needed to be, and great at his job, with a ten-star rating—if that was permitted. And not only was he completely immersed in the knowledge of the law, he knew the buttons to push for its perfect manipulation.

So, when he brushed a piece of lint off his navy-blue suit, flexed his muscles, arranged his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and began speaking, I knew I was going to have the judge eating out of my palm in seconds.

“Your Honor.” His posh voice bounced off the imposing traditional courtroom walls, and I suppressed a smile at the sudden attention it commanded. “The prosecution would have you believe that my client is a cold-blooded individual, devoid of remorse. But I implore you to consider the circumstances leading to this moment. My client has, no doubt, been assessed to have uncontrollable anger issues, but, as the old saying goes, ‘There is no smoke without fire.’ His explosive temper stems from a deep-rooted trauma. And with that said, kindly permit me, Your Honor, to start with the subject of Miron Yezhov’s father.”

An impact akin to the feeling of a sledgehammer crashing into the walls of my chest instantly consumed me. Just for a second, I was left breathless and reeling, like a massive unforgiving weight came crashing down, squeezing the air from my lungs and making my heart feel like it’d been punched.

“Miron?”

I glanced to my side only long enough to icily dismiss the lingering question in Damir’s raised brow and steely gaze.

At the moment, I was unsure what I had done to give my unease away—Oh, right. It was the fucking grin. Must have faded—but Damir relaxed almost immediately when I put back on the armor.

Viktor was still talking when I turned back to him.

“…and he died before his eyes. At the time, my client was only a child. I don’t intend to waste the time of this honorable court by highlighting the psychological and emotional short and long-term effects that such an incident could have on any young person when it is a known fact that we are already acquainted with. It should be expected that such a child might not function as properly as his or her peers in society. My client seated right here is an example of such a case being overlooked….”

Before attending the court session today, I’d provided Viktor with all the information and details he considered relevant for this case, and I expected that he’d use whatever he had received as a weapon for my defense. I had expected more legal-related gibberish arguments, more gavel pounding, more flipping of papers and systematic things only the lawyers understood.

What Ihadn’texpected was to listen to Viktor use his skills to weave a narrative of my past into present existence or feel this strange tug that pulled me back into a time I thought I had successfully buried in a capsule, never to be reminded of again.

“His death shaped him into this…this man, who is now guarded, mistrusting, and a literal representation of a short fuse just waiting to blow. Regardless, he is just a man who was deeply affected by his loss, like any other human being could be. His anger dysregulation is a defense mechanism, not malice.”

Aboutthatperspective on the defense mechanism, I wasn’t sure. But the judge seemed to be eating it up. Or not. Her thoughts were difficult to decipher through her stone-cold expression.

Keeping his eyes on the judge, Damir leaned into me. “You think she’s buying it?”

“What in the hell is wrong with you today?” I was starting to believe he was on something that was making him extra jittery, but the problem was, Damir didn’t snuff that shit. Still, his constant prodding was starting to grate my nerves. And my irritation had nothing to do with a defense mechanism.

“I don’t think anything. IknowI’m walking out of here without cuffs on my wrist. That’s for the last time, Damir.”

Message passed loud and clear.

He nodded in understanding and backed off.

“My client, as we know, is a controversial and, if I must add, powerful figure. He does understand the gravity of his explosive outbursts and has made efforts to seek improvement in anger management. I will leave my submission at that, Your Honor.”

Viktor passed me a hopeful glance before resuming his seat while the judge announced a fifteen-minute recess before she gave her judgment.

Time passed rather quickly, and we spent it in utter silence. Bothering Viktor with questions or small talk was unnecessary, while Damir, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten himself back. Having a conversation seemed to be the last thing on his mind as he sat stiffly on the chair, scrolling through his phone with the unflappable expression I was used to seeing on him.

Before long, fifteen minutes were up, and we were on our feet, rising as the judge strode in.

The moment she sat down, her eagle eyes locked me in as a target.

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