Page 84 of Bratva Bride
I finally nod, voice rough. “We’ll take care of it. Quietly. But when we move, there can’t be any doubt who is in control. No one walks away from this thinking they can cross me.”
Viktor smiles, sharp and satisfied. “That’s the Konstantin I remember.” His voice is sharp now, cutting through the noise of the club. “We have to move tonight. The longer we wait, the more ground they take.”
I push myself up from the booth, every muscle tense, but the room tilts sideways, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I sit down again, gripping the edge of the table, steadying my breath. The club lights swim at the edges of my vision.
Viktor’s face appears, lines creased in genuine concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, keeping his tone low.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I manage, forcing the words out, swallowing the nausea. “It’s nothing.”
Viktor gives a grimace, scanning me for signs of weakness. “Kirov must have hit you good last night. I told you, you should’ve let someone patch you up.”
I run a hand through my hair, jaw tight. “I said I’m fine. It’ll pass.”
I wave Viktor off, but he’s already signaling across the club. Anya materializes a minute later, looking crisp and unruffled, a medical bag slung over her arm. She studies me with professional detachment, but her eyes linger a little too long.
“Come on, Konstantin,” she says, her voice soothing. “Let’s take a look at you somewhere quieter.”
I protest, but the next thing I know she’s guiding me down a back hallway, past a row of silent doors. She opens one, revealing a softly lit guest room and a bed that looks far more inviting than it should.
“Lie down,” she urges, already reaching for my shirt, checking the bruises blossoming across my side and jaw. “You’ll be safe here. Can’t really afford for anyone to see you like this, can we?” She dabs gently at a cut on my forehead, her touch soft, almost motherly.
“Of course,” I mutter, my words slurring a little, the exhaustion hitting me harder than I want to admit.
She leans closer, her perfume wrapping around me. “You need to rest,” she coos, patting my forehead. “Just let yourself relax.”
Her lips brush against mine before I even register what’s happening—a slow, deliberate kiss that lingers too long. Myhand snaps up and I shove her back, anger flaring through the fog in my head.
“What are you doing?” I snarl, pushing myself up on my elbows.
Anya just smiles, lips red and eyes sly. “It can be our little secret,” she whispers, voice low and dangerous, as if daring me to push her away again.
I push myself farther back against the headboard, pulse hammering. “Don’t do that ever again,” I snap, voice hard even though my body feels sluggish.
Anya just laughs quietly, completely unbothered. “Why not, Konstantin? I know you don’t like your wife anymore. She hates you. I’ve seen it in her eyes. It’s over. The kids were the only thing holding you two together, but that’s gone now, isn’t it?”
Her words land like a slap, cold and cutting. I glare at her, but she doesn’t flinch. She only sits at the edge of the bed, her expression softening with something that almost looks like pity.
“You could do so much better,” she says, voice syrupy, as if she’s offering comfort instead of poison. “You don’t have to be alone.”
Anya doesn’t leave right away. Instead, she pauses at the side of the bed, her eyes tracing my face with something dangerously close to admiration. She lifts her hand, brushing her fingers lightly down my cheek before I can pull away.
“You have some potential, you know,” she says softly, her tone almost reverent. “I saw it the very first time I watched you walk into a room with that cane of yours. Most men would have let it break them, but you—” She shakes her head, a slow smile curling on her lips. “Even with all that pain, you were unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with.”
I say nothing, my jaw clenched, the memories of everything I’ve had to become pressing heavy on my chest.
She leans in a little closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This city needs a king who won’t hesitate. Someone ruthless enough to take what’s his and hold it. I see the way people look at you, Konstantin. They’d follow you anywhere—if only you’d let yourself rule.”
Her gaze lingers on me, a mix of hunger and belief. “You deserve someone who understands what it means to be at the top. Someone who won’t make you choose between power and love, because she knows those things can be the same.”
I shake my head, but she presses on, undeterred. “She’s not your equal. She can’t be. That’s why she’s always running. That’s why she doubts you, challenges you, breaks you down every time you try to hold the pieces together. But you—” Her fingers press lightly against my chest, right over my heart. “You were made for more than this. The city knows it. I know it.”
Her voice softens, coaxing and sly. “You need someone who will stand beside you, not hide in your shadow. Someone who understands what it takes to keep a kingdom standing when everyone else wants to tear it apart. That’s not her. But it could be me.”
She finally steps back, giving me one last, lingering look. “Think about it, Konstantin. You don’t have to be alone, not if you choose the right person to rule with you.”
She glides toward the door, confidence in every step, as if she’s already certain how the story will end.
I lie flat on the bed, the taste of Anya’s perfume still bitter in my mouth. My head aches, my side throbs where Kirov landed hisbest shot, and every muscle in my body is coiled and empty at once. The ceiling above me spins a little in the half dark. I can still hear her voice—her flattery, her warnings, the way she said I was born to rule. Maybe I believe her for half a second, maybe I just want to sleep and forget.
