Page 3 of Cruel Russian Pakhan (Safin Bratva #1)

I barely had the van doors shut before Vera lunged at me, teeth bared and fists flying.

What the fuck?

I caught her hands mid-air and, with one swift motion, had her seated on the bench beside me, her arms pinned tightly to her sides, my arms locked around her waist, chest pressed firmly to her back.

“Let me go, you pervert!” she hissed, squirming, trying to nail me in the shin with the heel of her shoe.

But I didn’t budge. If anything, my grip tightened, locking her tighter against me.

This wasn’t what I expected. Not even close.

After I got the call from Timur that morning, Rocco and I had been combing the streets for any sign of my missing fiancé.

When I spotted Vera slipping out of a piece of shit apartment building, I almost couldn’t believe my luck.

I called Timur immediately. Once he had tapped into the nearest surveillance cameras and caught her on video, I told him to call in the van and hung up.

I dialed Father Gordon next. After she went ghost, her suddenly materializing in the middle of the street felt like fate handing me a loaded gun.

I had to hand it to Artyom, though—he’d stashed her in the poorest part of town, not some high-end, classy hotel. Smart. No one would think to look for a Bratva princess in a rundown neighborhood.

Even her disguise was clever. She blended in with the crowd in her ill-fitting pantsuit that looked like she picked it up at a secondhand store. A knock-off handbag, shoes that had seen better days, and the perfume…cheap. Not the kind of scent a Bratva princess would wear.

Artyom tried hiding her in plain sight, praying she’d stay undetected.

But…

It still didn't explain her attitude. Her first instinct after being in the van wasn't to beg for mercy or plead for my forgiveness.

It was to attack me.

Lev Safin, leader of my Bratva faction.

Had she lost her damn mind?

She tried to aim straight for my eyes like a wild animal. She wasn't afraid of who I was or the consequences of her behavior. It was as if someone flicked on a switch in her brain that activated her fight mode.

I doubted that Artyom accepted such behavior from her. A manipulative tyrant like him would've probably reminded her who was in charge, with his fists if necessary. Which meant either he didn’t know who she really was, or she’d been lying to everyone her entire life.

I lowered my head until my lips were a breath away from her ear.

"That’s no way to speak to your future husband, Vera," I whispered dangerously, each word laced with a threat.

She inhaled sharply then I felt her shudder beneath my hold.

Then she shoved harder, twisting in my grasp. “I don’t know who the hell you think I am, but my name’s not Vera! It's Katya!”

“Don’t insult me,” I growled.

“I’m not whoever this Vera person is,” she snapped. “You’ve made a mistake.”

First, Vera went missing. Now she was pretending not to know who I am? Were the Rykovs determined to make a fool out of me? And did they think I'd just sit down and take it?

Fine. Well, two could play at that game.

Without warning, I released her. She stumbled forward, still breathing hard. Then, she scrambled to the opposite bench, glaring at me with eyes like frozen oceans.

I planted both feet on the van floor and leaned forward, elbows pressed into my knees. “You can pretend not to be Vera all you want,” I said, my voice controlled. “As long as you do exactly what you’re told.”

“Are you deaf? I'm not Vera! Did it ever occur to you that you've made a mistake?”

“I don't make mistakes.”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “Well, clearly, this is your first. And because it's your first, you're in denial, but soon enough, you'll see the error of your ways.”

The van stopped, and she froze.

“We're here.”

“Here where?” Her voice cracked.

I stepped out, leaving the door open behind me. Then I turned to face her.

“Get out.”

“You just kidnapped me! Now, you want me to get out of this van and willingly go with you?” she snarled. “Are you insane?”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it already.”

I was getting tired of this game. It needed to end now. I had more pressing matters to attend to than a stubborn woman testing my patience.

“Get out or I'll drag you out myself. Your choice.”

Her voice hardened. “Drag me out, then.”

I climbed back into the van, but before I could grab her wrist, she lashed out, fist connecting hard with my jaw. My head tilted slightly from the impact, and for a split second, I swore I saw a damn smirk on her lips.

She had no idea the dangerous game she was playing.

I snatched her wrist before she could get in another hit, twisting it just enough to keep her from landing another punch.

I could’ve ended this fast, knocked her out cold, like I’d done with bigger, stronger men who didn’t fight half as hard.

But she wasn't a man; she was a woman, and my wife-to-be.

Hitting women wasn't my MO. Women and children were sacred in my faction. Even when they were guilty, we dealt with them differently, with more mercy than we did the men. Always.

Besides, I didn't want to bruise her delicate skin. Leaving marks on my fiancé was out of the question.

But the girl was a damn hurricane, ferocious and unrelenting.

“Let me go! I don’t want to go with you! Somebody help me!” she screamed frantically.

She could scream until her face was as blue as her eyes. No one was coming.

Her legs were a damn weapon, catching me in the ribs and shins. When I tried to lift her, she bit down on my shoulder hard enough to draw blood. I grunted, more annoyed than hurt.

“Enough!” I roared.

It stunned her, just for a moment, but long enough for me to drag her to the edge of the van and throw her over my shoulder.

I locked her legs before she could start kicking again.

By the time I reached the stairs of the church, my breath was ragged, jaw sore, and my patience running thin as her fists pounded against my back.

Artyom described Vera as docile and refined, totally the opposite of the woman I had on my shoulder, who wasn't going down without a fight.

Once we were inside the church and the doors shut behind us, I set her on her feet carefully. I held her steady until I was sure she wouldn't fall, then let my hands slip from her waist.

“I told you…” Her voice cut off as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes swept the pews, the altar, the stained glass. “Why are we in a church?”

Before I could answer, Father Gordon stepped into the nave. He was a plump man in his early fifties with rosy cheeks, a receding hairline, and a warm presence that didn’t quite match the solemn black cassock draped over him.

“Mr. Safin.” He offered a warm smile. “You're here. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Father Gordon.” My words were curt. “We just arrived.”

“Good. Give me two minutes, and I’ll be right with you, and your bride-to-be.”

I gave him a firm nod and watched as he exited through the same door he’d entered. Then, I turned back to Vera.

Her eyes were wide now, confusion laced with fear.

“Bride?” she choked out. Her voice went two octaves higher, her words filled with panic. “You kidnapped me so you could marry me? No, no, no, no…”

Then she bolted, trying every door in the church. She rattled handles, banged on panels, but none of them opened.

I’d expected she might try to run; after all, she had gone MIA before. That’s why I made sure every door was locked.

“Open the doors!” she screeched. “I’m not going to marry you!”

I stepped toward her and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“If this wedding doesn't happen now,” I snarled, “I’ll not only hurt every living member of your family, I'll make them suffer. Even those you've never met.”

I watched the fire drain from her eyes. Threatening her family worked, just as I knew it would. I needed a reason for her to go through with the marriage, and if empty threats got the job done, so be it.

Her eyes misted, but refused to shed the tears they held. She tried to step back, but I refused to let go. She closed her eyes, and when they reopened, the fire was back. I expected her to fight me again but was glad when she chose to submit. Finally!

“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll do it.”

Her attitude needed adjusting, but that could wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting through this wedding without another damn complication.

Father Gordon entered the nave again, and Vera and I made our way toward him.

She stood stiffly beside me as he began the shortened version of the ceremony, her voice robotic as she recited her vows. And yet…I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. There was something about the way she held herself, defiant even in defeat, that dug beneath my skin.

I’d been promised a well-behaved, dutiful wife. What I received was a spitfire.

When it was time, I pulled the rings from my jacket pocket, and we exchanged them. When I leaned in to kiss her, I felt the tremble in her lips against mine. It lasted only a second, but it nudged something within me before I let it fade away.

I signed the marriage certificate, then handed her the pen. She hesitated, but signed with a shaky hand. I folded the paper and tucked it into my jacket without even glancing at it.

I paid Father Gordon, then grabbed Vera’s hand and led her out of the church.

Now that the wedding was done, it was time to move on to phase two.

Marrying into the Rykovs gave me exactly what I wanted…

access. Access to intel we could use to strengthen our foothold, expand our operations, and position my family—and our faction—for a more secure, dominant future.

And once I got Vera in my bed and earned her trust, I’d use it to gain leverage over Artyom.

She’d be the key to ruining her brother's empire from the inside out, brick by brick.

Artyom thought he had the upper hand. After today, he’d know better. His sister was mine now. Our alliance was sealed, and there was nothing he could do about it.