Page 74 of Bratva Bride
He gives the barest shake of his head, the ghost of a grin. “Shhh. Pretend you don’t know me.” His hand remains steady, open, waiting.
For a moment I’m frozen. Then I glance back—across the shimmering expanse of the floor—to where Konstantin stands, his glass lifted, eyes burning holes through me. He’s watching, his expression unreadable except for the flicker of something sharper than curiosity.
I slide my hand into Rifat’s. His grip is solid, comforting, nothing like the bruising hands that brought me here. He draws me gently onto the dance floor, just another pair in the sea of swirling bodies. But beneath the sweep of his arm and the press of his palm against my back, there’s a current of purpose, a message humming through his every move.
I force my voice low. “Rifat, you can’t?—”
He squeezes my hand, guiding me into a slow turn. “Eyes on me. Smile. We only have a minute before he comes storming over here.”
I try to breathe, to let the music carry me, but my gaze keeps sliding back to Konstantin. He watches us, eyes hard, glass poised at his lips.
Rifat’s hand stays steady at my waist, but I feel the tension running through him now, every muscle tight as wire. His voicedrops even lower, pitched only for me. “Nadya, I’m sorry to bring this to you here, but you have to know. Alexei found out about Ludmila’s location. He and his men attacked the warehouse last night. There was a fight, people died. Ludmila too.”
I feel the world tilt, the golden room suddenly colder. My breath catches, and for a moment I can’t speak, can barely keep my feet beneath me as we turn.
“Nadya, there’s something else.” He hesitates, then says softly, “Katya…didn’t make it.”
My vision blurs. For a moment all I see is Katya’s bright, laughing face, the memory of her teasing smile. The noise of the orchestra, the crowd, everything fades until it’s just me and the realization pounding through my chest.
“No,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “No, not Katya…”
Rifat’s hand tightens gently, steadying me, but I can barely breathe. Grief and guilt claw at my insides, sharp and relentless. My skin feels too tight, my dress suddenly suffocating. I shake my head, tears stinging behind my eyes. “I can’t—” I manage, my voice no more than a rasp.
He tries to keep pace with me as I break away from the swirl of dancers, but I don’t wait, barely seeing the faces as I push through the crowd. I just need out—away from the music, away from the lights and the bright, careless laughter that suddenly feels obscene.
Rifat follows, concern etched deep in his brow. “Nadya, wait?—”
But I’m already halfway to the doors, the world closing in, my heart shattering for Katya, for everyone we’ve lost, for the piecesof myself that keep getting scattered every time I try to survive this life.
I stumble out into the quieter corridor beyond the ballroom, desperate for air and for a place where no one can see the tears already slipping down my cheeks.
I stumble into a quiet hallway, the ballroom’s music and chatter muffled behind heavy doors. My vision blurs as the tears finally spill over, hot and endless, the ache in my chest so sharp I can barely stand.
Rifat finds me, footsteps soft behind me, and for a moment he just lets me cry, keeping a respectful distance.
“How did they even find Ludmila? I thought the location was secure.”
“It was,” Rifat says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.
Then he steps closer, voice low and gentle. “Despite everything that’s happened…I’m glad Konstantin took you, Nadya. You’re safe here. Arman needed to know that.” He hesitates, then adds even softer, “We all needed to know that.”
But I can’t stop crying. The sobs rack through me, leaving my shoulders shaking. I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to choke them back, but it’s no use. How many people are going to die for me, for my family, for these endless feuds?
My mind spins. Oh no, not here. I can’t crumble. I can’t let him find out. Rifat takes my arm in his and pulls me to his chest. “You okay?” he asks.
Before I can answer, Rifat is suddenly torn away from me, his warmth vanishing so fast I nearly stumble. I look up, gasping,and see Konstantin’s face twisted with fury as he slams Rifat hard against the wall.
“Get the fuck away from my wife,” Konstantin spits, his voice so raw it scrapes the air. He doesn’t wait for an answer. His fist drives into Rifat’s jaw with a sickening crack, blood blooming from Rifat’s mouth and down his chin.
“Konstantin, don’t!” I scream, surging forward. “Don’t hurt him! Stop, please!”
Konstantin ignores me, arm drawn back for another blow. The rage in his eyes is blinding, all reason lost beneath it. He finally turns to me, his chest heaving, blood on his knuckles.
“Is this what you’ve been doing away from me?” His voice is shaking, barely controlled, accusation and jealousy battling in his gaze. “Is this what you wanted?”
I stand frozen, heart pounding, torn between fear, anger, and helplessness. The echo of his words, the violence still humming in the air, makes it hard to breathe. Rifat is gasping, struggling to stand, while Konstantin stands between us, wild with hurt.
Tears streak my cheeks, and I don’t know who to reach for.
