Page 111 of Unbroken

I shake my head. “They’ll expect that. Roads’ll be watched. They want us running.”

She meets my eyes. “So what? We dig in and hope they miss?”

“We don’t hope. We bait. We lead them where we want them. We control the field.”

Her expression hardens. “You still want to fight this like it’s honor versus power. Vadka—we have a child in the other room. We have more to lose now.”

“I know what I have to lose.” My voice comes out rough, too close to raw. “You think I don’t consider all the possibilities?”

She sighs. “We’re both trying to protect him. Just differently. It’s two sides of the same coin.”

She’s notwrong.

I nod. Barely.

She shifts closer, and her knee touches mine under the table.

“I want you to win this war,” she says quietly. “But I need to know you won’t let pride bury us in the rubble. Maybe we leave, maybe we get new identities. Pack up and just… go. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they won’t find us.”

I shake my head and reach for her hand.

“Ruthie,” I murmur. “I don’t care about pride. I care aboutyou. And you need to know, just like your sister did.” It feels like progress to be able to sayyoursister without guilt, without pain so sharp I can’t breathe. “If you’re in with me, you’re in the Kopolov Bratva. There’s no escaping. We don’t move, we don’t hide, we don’t make any choices in the future that don’t impact every goddamn one of them.”

She stills.

Eyes wide. Barely breathing.

I lean in closer. “And in return, that means you’re one of them. One ofus.It means every motherfucker in the Bratva protects you like their own. There isn’t a need you have we don’t meet. You’ll be protected. Cared for.” I swallow hard. “Family.”

Because isn’t that what this is all about, in the end? Love and family, friendship that crosses boundaries and knows no limits. Love and war, death and life.

She holds my gaze and rests her hand on mine. Then she reaches across the table and pulls the map toward her.

“Okay,” she says. “Then let’s plan it together.”

It’s not surrender.

It’s something deeper.

Trust.

And it feels like she’s made the decision to do something she hasn’t spoken of, not yet, like she’s facing a fear she’s held onto that no longer holds her in its grip.

I want to ask her what it is, what she’s afraid of, what she needs. But Ruthie values her independence, and I know by now this is part of her process. If I need her to trust me, I need to give her space to do things in her way, in her time.

She gets up and walks away for a little while. Says she’s going to brush her teeth.

But she doesn’t come back.

Not right away.

After ten minutes, I check the bedroom.

She’s not there.

The bathroom light’s still on. Shit. Is she okay?

I knock once. “Ruthie?” My voice is sharper than I intended. “Ruthie?”

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