Page 85 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

I follow my wife into the hallway. She shuffles toward the bedroom, opens the door, and then collapses on the bed, sprawling her limbs akimbo.

When I reach for her shoulder, she spins around, sitting up so fast that I nearly smack her by accident. She clutches the cardigan around her shoulders as tears well in her eyes. “I should have never agreed to this.”

I bow my head. “It’s already done, Liya.”

She shakes her head. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Hard decisions must be made regardless of the consequences. You acted quickly and decisively.”

“How do you deal with it?”

I meet her gaze, curious about the way she asks me. The guilt isn’t much for me to deal with because it’s something I’ve been trained to ignore.

But when I’m around her, I can’t help but feel it.

The sticky fluid of the emotion glues my body together and makes it difficult to breathe. I should be askingherhow she manages to deal with it. Because this is entirely new territory for me.

After a deep breath, I sit next to her.

“How do you…?” She swallows hard, gulping down a sob. “How do you deal with making a mistake as big as this?”

I open my palm. She slides her hand into mine without question.

She’s growing more confident about us. Her reservations don’t seem to exist anymore. She’s willing to touch me, to hold me, and to celebrate with me.

And she’s also willing to feel guilty with me.

It says so much about her.

“Move on,” I tell her. “That’s the only way to handle this.”

“How, Pavel? Innocent bystanders got hurt.Children!”

I lick my lips as I pull her hand into my lap, taking the opportunity to study her palm. The soft ridges under her fingers twitch as I trace them. “We figure out what to do next.”

“I don’t know what the next step is.”

“That’s why I said ‘we,’rodnaya.”

She takes a moment to drink in this response. It seems to comfort her to know that I’m not planning on leaving her out. Not anymore. She’s very much a part of my Bratva and me.

I can’t imagine my life without her.

As I run the tip of my finger over each of her digits, I whisper, “There’s nothing we can do for the events of the past.”

“Even if they hurt?”

I nod.

“I don’t know if I can carry this.”

I look at her. “You don’t need to carry it.”

She sniffles. “But the guilt…”

“The guilt doesn’t go away by lashing yourself.”

“So, I just…keep moving forward. Just pretend like this didn’t happen because of me?”

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