Page 11 of Bribed & Bred By The BRATVA (Bred By The BRATVA #9)

The air outside is different. Softer somehow. The courtyard gardens are hushed with the sound of bees moving through lemon blossoms and the rustle of leaves overhead. After a life of small hospital rooms and a smaller apartment, the greenery feels unreal, like something stolen from a dream.

I follow the stone path between clipped hedges, trying to make sense of the knot inside me. My body still aches from Aleksei’s hands, his weight, the way he took me as if I had been made for him alone. The memory makes my cheeks heat, even as I tell myself I should feel nothing but anger.

But the ring catches the sun every time I move, and I can’t deny what it means: I am Aleksei Vasiliev’s wife now. That truth hangs over me heavier than any vow I could have spoken.

I think about Mateo. About his face this morning, colour in his cheeks, a real smile tugging at his mouth. That smile is worth any price, I remind myself. Even this. Even me.

I stop at the edge of the pool where the water reflects the sky, pale and unbroken.

Mateo would love it here. He’s never had space like this to stretch his legs, never had a house where he could walk outside and smell citrus instead of exhaust fumes.

The thought makes my throat tighten. Could he live here? Could I?

A voice interrupts my thoughts. “You must be Isabella.”

I turn quickly, startled, to find a woman leaning against the low stone wall. She’s striking, with dark hair pulled back and a figure both elegant and sharp-edged. There’s something watchful in her eyes, though the rest of her looks relaxed.

“I’m Sarah,” she says, and then gestures behind her where another woman approaches with a gentle smile and a small bundle in her arms. “And this is Rachel.”

Rachel’s smile softens when our eyes meet, and she rocks the baby absently as if it’s second nature. The child makes a tiny noise, more like a sigh than a cry, and my chest squeezes.

“You’re Aleksei’s wife,” Sarah says simply, without accusation or mockery, just a flat statement of fact.

I nod, because denying it would be pointless. “I am.” The words taste strange in my mouth, too new, too heavy.

Rachel steps closer, peering at me with quiet curiosity. “It’s overwhelming at first. The house, the men, the rules.” She adjusts the baby against her chest. “But it gets easier.”

Her kindness makes me ache. “Does it?”

“It has to,” Sarah says, voice dry but not unkind. “Or none of us would survive it.”

The three of us stand in silence for a moment, the garden humming around us. I glance down at the baby again, so small, so alive. My mind flashes to Mateo. Sixteen, but in many ways still fragile as glass. Would this place break him? Or would it be the first time in his life he could actually live?

“I have a brother,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “He’s recovering now, but… he’ll need somewhere safe.”

Rachel’s gaze softens further, though Sarah only tilts her head, assessing me.

“Family fits,” Rachel says gently, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. “One way or another, they always make it fit.”

Her words settle inside me like a seed, and I realise for the first time that I’m not just marrying a man. I’m stepping into something vast, tangled, and inescapable. A family that is both danger and safety at once.

When I walk back toward the house, the ring glints again in the sunlight. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like a shackle. It feels like an anchor.