Page 77 of Unbroken

Across from us, Rafail doesn’t even pretend to be impressed.

“Mr. Kopolov,” the kid starts, trying to sound respectful, like that’ll save him. “Thank you for your time. Good to see you.”

He starts prattling, nervous energy leaking through his fake charm. Small talk drips from his lips, pointless and trite. Rafail isn’t having it. He shakes his head, cuts through the bullshit. I watch, mesmerized. I haven’t really seen these guys in action before.

“Get to the point of why you’re here,” he snaps, voice like a blade across stone.

The kid blinks, surprised by the sharpness. And instead of adjusting his tone, he gets defensive—makes the mistake of raising his voice.

“I’m getting there,” he snaps. “If you hadn’t invaded the southern border and taken my family’s property?—”

Oops. Wrong move.

Vadka rises.

Slowly. Deliberately.

And when he does, the entire room shifts. It’s like gravitybends around him. And my stern but gentle giant is suddenly terrifying.

I love it.

“Did you just raise your voice to Mr. Kopolov?” His tone is quiet, deadly calm, and all the more menacing because of it. “You come into his house and speak to him like that? Do you have any fucking idea who you're talking to?”

He never needs to yell. That calm fury of his is more effective than any screaming threat. A shiver runs down my spine.

Shit. My sexy enforcer just made my thighs clench. Vadka leans in closer to the man, towering over him.

“You ever raise your fucking voice to Mr. Kopolov again,” he says, each word deliberate, “and that’ll be the last time you ever speak. Do you understand me?”

The kid goes pale and throws his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “I meant no disrespect. I didn’t mean?—”

“What you meant and what you did are two very different things,” Vadka cuts in. He looks like a goddamn avenging angel. Dangerous, divine. I could listen to that tone of voice for hours… as long as it’s never directed at me.

“We heard you,” Rafail says, cool and composed. He tilts his head in my direction. “There’s a witness.”

“Ruthie?” he says. “Did you hear a tone of disrespect?”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised he’s asking me.Me. But he wants my opinion, and I’m not gonna sugarcoat it.

“I think a third grader would've caught that tone,” I say with a shrug. “So yeah. Loud and clear.”

The corner of Rafail’s mouth quirks up. He sits back in his chair, completely capable of defending himself but clearly comfortable letting Vadka do it for him. This side of Vadka—protector, weapon, sharp-edged and unyielding—it’s not one I’ve seen often. But I need to. Because it’s part of who he is. Just like me working the bar and tending to my mother is part of who I am. It’s all different pieces of the same puzzle.

“Stay out of this,” the guy snaps at me.

Vadka’s eyes grow deadly, his voice just above a growl. “And did you just speak disrespectfully to my woman?”

My woman.

His woman.

Oh god.

“There’s a nurse practitioner here to see you,” Rafail says quietly. “Friend of Polina’s. She’ll assess the damage.”

Vadka cracks his knuckles and takes the guy by the collar. “And anything else to say, Moroff?” he adds, tone final.

Moroff shakes his head quickly. “No. We’ll consider our options. Thank you for the visit.”