Page 15 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)

Chapter fourteen

The Video

A lexei

The security meeting with Boris takes an hour, during which we confirm what I already suspected: Roman has positioned surveillance teams at three different points around the estate perimeter.

He's not trying to hide his presence. This is psychological warfare—a reminder that he can reach us whenever he chooses, that our fortress is only as strong as his patience allows.

Let him watch. Let him think he's in control.

By the time I return to the house, dinner is waiting and Mila is pacing the small dining room like a caged tiger. The afternoon spent digging through Viktor's files has left her wound tight with nervous energy and suppressed emotion.

"Everything secure?" she asks the moment I walk in.

"As secure as it can be with hostile surveillance teams camped on our doorstep."

"How many?"

"Six vehicles, at least twelve men that we can identify. Probably more we can't see."

She stops pacing and turns to face me, and I can see the fear she's trying to hide behind determination.

"They're really out there," she says quietly. "This is really happening."

"Yes."

"And you're not concerned?"

"I'm always concerned. But I'm not afraid, if that's what you're asking."

"Why not?"

The question catches me off guard. Why am I not afraid? Three years ago, when Roman first came for Viktor, I was terrified—not of dying, but of failing to protect someone who trusted me. Now, facing an even more dangerous situation, I feel... calm .

"Because this time, I know what I'm fighting for," I say finally.

"Which is?"

"You."

The simple word hangs in the air between us, carrying more weight than any declaration of love. I'm not fighting for territory or money or family honor, though all of those matter. I'm fighting for the woman who's become the center of my universe in the space of four days.

"Alexei," she says softly.

"I know it's fast. I know it doesn't make sense. But you asked why I'm not afraid, and that's the answer. I'm not afraid because losing you would be worse than dying."

She moves toward me, and I can see tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "You can't say things like that," she whispers.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me want to believe this is real. That what's happening between us is more than just survival and proximity and really excellent sex."

"It is more."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've had survival and proximity and excellent sex before. This is different."

"Different how?"

I cross the room until I'm close enough to touch her, close enough to see the gold flecks in her dark eyes. "Because when I look at you, I see a future I didn't know I wanted. Because your happiness matters more to me than my own safety. Because—"

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. Boris's name flashes on the screen, and I know without answering that something has changed with our surveillance situation.

"I have to take this," I tell Mila.

"Alexei," Boris says the moment I answer. "They're withdrawing."

"All of them?"

"Yes. Vehicles pulling back to public roads, surveillance equipment being packed up. Whatever they came to see, they've seen it."

Which means Roman has what he needs to plan his next move. The thought should worry me more than it does.

"Understood. Maintain watch positions and report any changes." I end the call and find Mila watching me with questions in her eyes. "They're pulling back," I tell her.

"That's good, right?"

"It means they have what they came for. Information about our defenses, our routines, our vulnerabilities."

"So they're planning something."

"Almost certainly."

She nods, processing this new reality with the same calm intelligence she brings to everything else.

My brave, brilliant wife, adapting to a world of violence and danger like she was born for it.

"Well," she says finally. "I guess we'd better finish going through Viktor's files.

If they're planning something, we need to be ready. "

"Mila—"

"I know what you're going to say. That I should be afraid, that I should let you handle this, that I'm in over my head."

"Actually, I was going to say that we should eat dinner first. You haven't had anything substantial since breakfast, and you'll need your strength for what comes next."

Her smile is soft and grateful. "Oh."

"But you're right about finishing Viktor's files. There's one more folder we haven't opened yet."

"Which one?"

"The one labeled 'For Mila's Eyes Only.'"

Her breath catches. "Viktor left something specifically for me?"

"It appears so. But first, dinner. Then we'll watch whatever message your brother left."

Irina has outdone herself with the lamb, but neither of us has much appetite. We eat mechanically, minds focused on what's waiting in my study, on the surveillance teams that just withdrew, on the war that's coming whether we're ready or not.

"Tell me something good," Mila says suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Something positive. Something that isn't about Roman or danger or people watching our house. Tell me something that makes you happy."

The request catches me off guard. When was the last time someone asked what makes me happy? When was the last time I thought about happiness as something achievable rather than something other people experience?

"You," I say without thinking.

"That's cheating. I asked for something good, not something that makes me want to cry."

"You make me happy, Mila. The way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating. The way you challenge me when you think I'm being unreasonable. The way you taste like honey and rebellion."

"Alexei—"

"The way you chose me, even when you thought I was your enemy. The way you trust me with your safety, your future, your heart."

"I haven't given you my heart."

"Haven't you?"

She stares at me across the candlelit table, and I can see her trying to decide whether to lie or admit what we both know is true.

"This is happening too fast," she says finally.

"Yes."

"It's crazy to fall in love with someone after four days."

"Yes."

"Especially someone you met at an underground auction."

"Particularly crazy."

"And yet..."

"And yet here we are."

She reaches across the table to take my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine. The simple contact sends warmth shooting up my arm and straight to my chest.

"Here we are," she agrees.

We finish dinner in silence, hands linked across the table like teenagers on a first date. When we finally head to my study, I can feel the weight of what's waiting for us—Viktor's final message, delivered from beyond the grave to the sister he died trying to protect.

The folder opens easily, revealing a single video file dated three days before Viktor's death. My chest tightens as I click play and Viktor's face appears on the screen.

He looks tired, older than his twenty-eight years, with the kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying terrible knowledge. But his eyes are clear and determined as he looks directly into the camera.

"Mila," he says, and his voice is exactly as I remember—warm, intelligent, and so achingly familiar it feels like no time has passed at all. "If you're watching this, then I'm gone and you've met Alexei Morozov."

Beside me, Mila makes a soft sound that might be a sob or a gasp. I reach for her hand, offering what comfort I can as her brother speaks to her from the past.

"I know what you must think of him," Viktor continues. "I know the stories you've heard about the Bratva, about what men like Alexei do for a living. But I need you to understand something—he's not your enemy. He never was."

"Viktor," Mila whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"The man who killed me—who will kill me, I should say, since I'm recording this before it happens—is Roman Volkov. He runs human trafficking, money laundering, every ugly business you can imagine. I discovered his operation while doing security work for legitimate companies he's using as fronts."

Viktor pauses, running a hand through hair that's the same dark brown as Mila's.

"I tried to be smart about it. Tried to gather evidence carefully, build an airtight case before going to the FBI. But Roman found out, and now he's coming for me."

"Why didn't you run?" Mila asks the screen, though she knows he can't answer.

As if hearing her question, Viktor continues: "I could run. Alexei offered to get me out of the country, give me a new identity, keep me safe. But if I disappear, Roman wins. He keeps trafficking people, keeps destroying lives, keeps corrupting everything he touches."

"You stubborn idiot," Mila sobs.

"So I'm staying. I'm going to testify against him, give the FBI everything I've collected. Alexei is going to help—he's putting his own organization at risk to protect me and make sure Roman faces justice."

On screen, Viktor leans forward, and his expression becomes intense, urgent.

"Mila, listen to me carefully. If something happens to me, if Roman succeeds in silencing me, I need you to trust Alexei completely. He's a good man in a world that doesn't reward goodness. He'll protect you with his life—I've seen how he treats the people he cares about."

"I care about you too," I whisper, but only Mila hears me.

"More than that," Viktor says, "I think you two could be good for each other. You need someone who understands strength, who won't be intimidated by your intelligence or your stubborn streak. And he needs someone who sees the man he is underneath the armor he wears."

"Viktor, no," Mila breathes. "Don't you dare try to play matchmaker from beyond the grave."

But Viktor's smile suggests that's exactly what he's doing.

"Take care of each other," he says simply. "And Mila? Don't blame Alexei for my death. Don't waste years hating a man who would have died to save me. He's going to carry enough guilt without you adding to it."

The video ends, leaving us in silence broken only by Mila's quiet crying.

I don't know what to say. How do you respond to a dead man's blessing, to forgiveness you don't deserve, to a friend's final request that you love his sister?

"He knew," Mila says through her tears. "He knew you were going to blame yourself."

"He was always too perceptive for his own good."

"He was right about us too."

"Was he?"

She turns to face me, tears still streaming but her expression determined. "I do need someone who understands strength. And you do need someone who sees past the armor." She cups my face in her hands, thumbs brushing away tears I didn't realize I was shedding. "And we are good for each other."

"Mila—"

"I love you," she says simply. "I know it's crazy and fast and complicated, but I love you. Viktor was right—we could be good for each other. We already are."

The words hit me like a physical blow. She loves me. This brilliant, brave, beautiful woman loves me despite everything, because of everything, in spite of every rational reason she shouldn't.

"I love you too," I tell her, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I love your courage and your stubbornness and the way you make me want to be better than I am."

"You don't need to be better. You just need to be you."

I kiss her then, pouring all of my gratitude and grief and overwhelming love into the connection between us. She tastes like tears and promises, like everything I've ever wanted and everything I'm afraid to lose.

When we break apart, we're both shaking.

"What happens now?" she asks.

"Now we honor Viktor's memory by finishing what he started. We use his evidence to destroy Roman Volkov and save the people he's trafficking."

"And after?"

"After, we build the life your brother wanted for us. We take care of each other."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She settles into my arms, and we sit in the quiet study surrounded by Viktor's evidence and his blessing, planning a war that will either make us stronger or destroy us completely.

But for the first time since Viktor died, I'm not afraid of losing. Because whatever happens, I won't be facing it alone.

I'll be facing it with the woman I love, the woman Viktor trusted me to protect, the woman who sees the man I am underneath the violence and chooses to love me anyway.

And that makes me dangerous in ways Roman Volkov can't possibly understand.