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“Because I've seen how shaken up you are by the thought of her being in danger. I’ve seen how you’re lying to yourself when you say you don’t love her.” He shakes his head. “She never slept with me, you know. She wanted to wait. Another thing I resented her for back then.”

My mind reels, recalibrating everything I thought I knew. Every cold word I've spoken to her during our early days of marriage. The revenge I thought I was exacting for my brother's broken heart.

“I'm clean now,” Nikandr continues. “One year next month. And part of making amends is telling the truth, even when it hurts.” He looks at me directly.

“You love her. I've known it for a while now. The whole family knows it. You're just too stubborn to admit it, but don’t make mistakes that sabotage your life, Agafon. I’ve made plenty for the whole of us.”

The truth of his words hits me with the force of a physical blow. My hands tingle with numbness, but I feel a burning in my chest, a heat that spreads and consumes. The simple fact hits me at my heart: I love her.

“I married her to punish her,” I admit. “For what I thought she did to you.”

“And now?”

Now. Now I can't imagine a day without seeing those dimples when she smiles. Now I wake up reaching for her across the sheets. Now the thought of Viktor Sokolov putting his hands on her makes me want to rip the world apart with my bare hands.

“Now I'm going to get her back,” I say, turning to my brother. “And then I'm going to spend every day making it up to her. Thank you for telling me the truth, Brother. I want you to know, I’m not angry with you. It must have taken courage for you to admit what you just did.”

Nikandr doesn’t smile, but gives me a grimace, and what he says next shatters me. “I hated myself for a while now, but I’m slowly learning to love myself again.”

“You’re a good man.” I give him a nod. “And we love you, if that counts for much.”

“I know,” he says with a smile now. “I’ve always known, but was too damn blind to see it.”

***

We arrive at the meat processing plant twenty minutes later. Our team splits into the predetermined positions.

“All teams report,” I command softly into my radio.

Once all the confirmations are in place, I remind them why we’re here and what’s at stake. “My wife is our priority. Get her out safely. Everything else is secondary.”

I give the signal, and we move in as quietly as possible. The first two guards don't even have time to shout before Nikandr and I shoot them down. Our people enter the facility through different entrances, and with that comes confusion.

Gunfire erupts from somewhere deeper in the building. I run forward with Nikandr at my heels and move toward the sound, just in case one of our own needs backup.

But on the way over, I notice a light down the corridor and a door half-open. Silently, Nikandr and I walk over with our guns raised, and when we push the door open just a creak, we see her. Lilibeth.

She’s tied to a chair in the center of the room, and her head is slumped forward, her hair fanning over her face. I freeze at the sight of her, at the bruising on her arms, the torn sleeve of her blouse, the blood mangled in her hair.

I want to run forward, I want to carry her home and torture whoever reduced her to this state, but I can’t move because right behind her, with his gun raised to her temple, is Viktor Sokolov himself.

“One more step, Letvin, and your pretty little wife gets a bullet in her brain,” he calls out, his voice echoing across the room.

I raise my hands, gun pointed at a beam on the ceiling. “Let her go, Viktor. This is between you and me.”

“No.” He yanks Lilibeth's head back by her hair, and I see her eyes flutter open, disoriented. When she focuses and sees me, I see hope rush into her eyes. It nearly breaks me to know I’d crushed it earlier today with my words.

“You’re a fool, Viktor. Let her go. Our men have yours surrounded outside. There's no way out of this building where you don't end up dead, unless you let her go and we can talk about it like grown men.”

His laugh is ugly. “If I let her go, you’ll shoot me dead. She’s my ticket to an exit, can’t you see?”

He begins untying her, his gun still pressed to her temple, and I feel petrified of what’s to come. I can’t shoot him without the risk of Lilibeth getting hurt, and if I don’t do something, he’ll be out of here using her as a shield.

The next time I see her, she might be dead. Viktor Sokolov isn’t a gentleman; that much is clear from how badly he’s beaten Lilibeth. He’s not going to let her go once he gets his use out of her.

I can’t let that happen.

I see the slightest movement to my right and see Nikandr circling around behind Sokolov from his blind spot. I need to keep Sokolov's attention on me.

“You know what your mistake was, Viktor?” I ask, taking one slow step forward. “You think you’ll be able to get out of here and face no consequence.”

I take another step forward, and Sokolov’s eyes narrow.

“But you took my wife. You took an Orlov. The Orlovs, the Zolotovs, and the Letvins will never let you survive this. They’re out there, you know?

All of them. Abram Zolotov and his brothers.

Lion. Nikolai and the rest of the Orlovs.

There won’t be a corner in this country you can run to, there won’t be an ally or friend to be found. ”

I see the shock on Viktor’s face, and I know my message landed well. I can see his mind reeling from the knowledge that the Zolotovs, the most powerful Bratva family in all of North America, view this kidnapping as an affront.

The distraction works. For one crucial second, Sokolov's eyes are locked with mine, processing my words. In that moment, Nikandr makes his move and lunges from the shadows. Sokolov turns, gun swinging away from Lilibeth's head toward the threat from behind.

And that’s when I take aim and fire. Twice. The bullets hit Sokolov right in his chest. He staggers and then crumples to the floor.

I'm at Lilibeth's side in an instant, cutting through the zip ties binding her wrists and ankles to the chair. Her face is a canvas of bruises, lip split, eye swelling, but she's alive. She's breathing.

“Agafon,” she whispers, voice cracked and dry.

I gather her into my arms, gentler than I've ever been with anyone. She feels small against me, fragile in a way I never associated with her fiery spirit.

“I'm here,” I murmur into her hair, breathing in her scent beneath the metallic tang of blood. “I've got you now. I won't let you go again.”

Her fingers weakly grasp the fabric of my shirt. “You came for me.”

“Always,” I promise, and for the first time, I allow myself to acknowledge the truth that's been growing inside me since the day I decided to make her mine for all the wrong reasons. “I will always come for you, Lilibeth.”

Her blue-green eyes, though clouded with pain, search my face, perhaps sensing something new in my voice. Something I've been battling against since the day we wed: love.

I brush a strand of darkened blonde hair from her face, being mindful of her injuries. The sounds of the dying fight fade into the background noise around us. All I see is her.

“Let's go home,” I tell her softly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

She nods once, then lets her head rest against my chest. I lift her easily, cradling her against me, and carry her out.