Page 79 of Bratva Bride
Konstantin lingers for half a breath, gun raised, eyes narrowed at Arman as if weighing a lifetime’s worth of decisions in a single heartbeat. Another bullet ricochets dangerously close, forcing his hand. He slides in after us, never taking his eyes off Rifat and Arman, his body tense, ready for betrayal.
Rifat and his men cover our escape, retreating in quick, coordinated bursts, then piling into the car. Arman’s foot slams the accelerator, and we lurch forward, the city streaking past in a dizzying rush of lights and sirens.
I clutch Mila so tightly she squeaks, but I can’t loosen my grip, not until the gunfire fades, not until the danger is lost in therearview mirror. My whole body shakes, every nerve burning with exhaustion and fear and some sharp edge of hope.
Konstantin’s hand finds mine, his palm sweaty and trembling, and for once, I let him hold on. I meet his eyes, both of us shattered, but alive. Mila breathes against my shoulder, slowly calming as the car speeds us away from the carnage.
The car hurtles through empty streets, engine roaring. Mila clings to me so tightly I can hardly breathe. Konstantin sits rigid at my side, his hand never leaving his weapon. Across from us, Arman watches, his eyes dark and tired but never wavering.
Konstantin finally turns, his voice quiet but laced with menace. “Tell me why I should trust you. I know who you are, Arman. I know what you’ve done.” He levels his gun at my uncle’s chest, arm rock steady, ready for anything.
Arman meets Konstantin’s gaze without blinking. He speaks with calm, even with a pistol pointed at his heart. “You don’t have to trust me. But you need me. Right now, you’re alive because I decided to help.”
The air in the car is so tight I can barely swallow.
Konstantin’s words are colder than winter. “Veles. That name mean anything to you?”
At the sound of it, my stomach drops. I turn to Arman, anger and betrayal burning through my veins. “You know about them?” My voice cracks, hurt and disbelieving.
Arman shifts his gaze to me, his face growing older in an instant. “Nadya, let me explain. It’s not what you think.”
I cut him off, something hard and shaking inside me. “Fold your shirt.” The order hangs between us. “Show him. Show me.”
He hesitates. For a second, he almost refuses, but he sees the look in my eyes. With a sigh, he unbuttons his collar, then peels back his shirt, exposing his shoulder and rolling up the sleeve. There it is, etched in ugly lines.
Arman meets my eyes, the shame clear, but he tries to hold on to pride. “It was a long time ago, Nadya. I got out. I swear.”
Konstantin keeps the gun trained on him, eyes full of doubt. Mila whimpers against me, burying her face in my side. I pull her closer, holding her tight, my mind whirling with questions and dread.
I can barely breathe, anger and heartbreak twisting together so tightly I feel sick. My voice shakes, but I don’t care. “You lied to me,” I say, staring at Arman as if I can see through every secret he ever kept. “What else did you lie about?”
Arman’s eyes close for a moment. “I only wanted to protect you, Nadya.”
I can’t accept that. The ache in my chest grows sharper. “When I asked you about the tattoo on those men, is that why you didn’t tell me? You knew what it meant all along, didn’t you?” My words ring out, brittle and loud in the confined space.
He looks away, shame plain on his face. “I thought if I kept you in the dark, you would be safe.”
“And Ludmila,” I say. “They just happened to find her location? Is that what happened?” The relief in Rifat’s voice, the fact it happened after I was gone, my uncle’s ruthlessness. It all adds up.
“I heard rumors that Alexei was raring for a fight,” Arman says. “And I wanted to lure him in. The bastard never showed up.”
“But people died, Arman. Good people. Katya died.”
“I know,” he says.
I try the car door, rattling it. I can’t stand being in the car right now. I feel sick to my belly, and I’ll throw up. I can already feel my stomach roiling with bile. “Let me out.”
“Nadya, please.”
Konstantin glances at me, his voice slicing through the tension. “Drop us right here. Now.”
Arman hesitates, looking between us, but Konstantin is relentless. “I said stop the car.”
I echo him, unable to sit with Arman’s silence another second. “Let us out. Now.”
The driver pulls over, tires crunching against the curb. The city outside is empty and cold, streetlights flickering. The car rolls to a stop, and for a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Konstantin opens the door and climbs out, helping Mila out first, then offering me his hand. I take it, stepping onto the pavement, my heart pounding with fury and betrayal.
We walk in silence, the cold night air stinging my cheeks. Mila shuffles between us, clutching my hand on one side and Konstantin’s on the other. Her breaths are tiny clouds in the dark. The city is empty here, every streetlamp flickering over cracked pavement and old secrets. I can feel Konstantin trying to reach me, his steps matching mine, his gaze never leaving my face.
