Page 47 of Bratva's Vow
Wren looked between us, his lips parted, trembling slightly. “Tell me what?”
“Tell him why you’re really protecting him like he’s the fucking winning lottery ticket.” Bradley’s spit flew, his grip bruising Wren’s throat now. “Tell him who youreallyare.”
My stomach twisted violently.
Not here.
Not like this.
I needed more time to find the right words. But whether then or later, could there ever be the right words for the secret I’d been keeping from him?
Wren’s eyes locked on mine. Pleading. Shining with hurt and confusion.
“Maxim,” he whispered. “Is it true? Are you… working with the Bratva?”
Fuck.
I couldn’t lie. Not anymore. Not when his life hung in the balance.
“Yes.” The word fell from my lips like lead, heavy and inescapable. “I’m the Pakhan.”
Wren reeled like I’d slapped him.
Before he could speak, I rushed forward, words tumbling, desperate, useless. “I don’t deal with petty crime. I don’t push guns or pimp women. I’m the head of the family, Wren. It might not be the conventional blood family but that’s what we are. That’s what I built, and I’m the strategist, which is why I’ve stayed out of the public eye for anything that doesn’t have to do with my legitimate business. I’m the one who makes sure the others play by the rules. I rarely get my hands dirty.”
Bradley snorted, full of venom. “Rarely?Rarely? That’s a fucking joke.”
“Shut up, Bradley.” My voice was a razor, cutting sharp through the night. “Haven’t you done enough? I’ve overlooked your betrayal long enough because of your father.”
“You think he’s the good guy, Wren?” Bradley forged on, ignoring my words. “You think because he wears suits and makes sweet love to you that he’s somehow better than the rest of them?” He shifted slightly, forcing Wren closer to the edge. My heart dropped to my knees. “Let me tell you a little story.”
“No—” I said, but Bradley cut me off with a vicious smile.
“There was a boy. Grew up thinking the world was safe, even though his mother abandoned him. It was okay because he had a dad who loved him. Who read him bedtime stories and kissed his forehead at night. Until one day, his dad didn’t come home. Until one day, he disappeared.”
“Like my father,” Wren whispered.
“That boy bounced through foster homes, somehow always having enough to get everything he needed to make itin life. He got a scholarship. Got his degree. Got a steady job. Right here… for Morozov Holdings.”
Wren stiffened. His breath hitched audibly. I saw the wheels turning in his head as he made the connection to his story and Bradley’s. Too much of a similarity to be a coincidence.
“That boy was me,” Bradley hissed, tightening his grip on Wren’s throat so hard Wren coughed. I saw red but forced myself to stay still. A little bruise could be healed, but life once lost was gone forever. “I never stopped looking for my father. Turns out, dear old Dad worked for Maxim. Loyal to the end. When he got caught in a sting, rather than be forced to give up his Pakhan, he swallowed a bullet.”
Wren’s eyes filled. He shook his head violently. “No. No, that’s?—”
“He killed himself,” Bradley growled, face twisted in rage. “Because Maxim Morozov makes them promise. No loose lips. No witnesses. If you’re caught, you end yourself. In return, he takes care of your family. That’s the deal of working with the devil.”
Wren’s voice broke apart, trembling so violently I barely heard it. “Maxim… Maxim, is this true? You knew my dad?”
Fuck.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t lie.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Your father… he worked for me. He died on the job.”
Wren let out a choked, devastated sound. “No.” He shook his head over and over, like he could rewind the whole conversation. “No, no, no, no, no.”
I swallowed hard. Each word burned my throat like fire. “He came to work for me on his own. He knew the risks involved, and I kept my promise, dammit. I made sure you had everything. Your education. Your scholarship. Your job. Ikept you safe. That was supposed to be the end of it. You weren’t supposed to know.”
