Page 39 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

She did not speak loudly.

Hadn’t cried.

But she hadn’t looked at me either. Not once since the night we got back from dinner with the family.

And still, even while I was with the men I trusted with my life, I bore the weight of that silence as if stitched into the cloth of my soul.

Eduard lined up his next shot. “My cousin married a Serbian girl last year,” he said, taking his time to aim. “She wouldn’t stop crying the first week. She locked herself in the bathroom and hardly ate. It took him nearly a month for her to settle.”

Isaak raised an eyebrow. “Sounds romantic.”

“She’s happy now.” Eduard shrugged. “At least she quit throwing things.”

The room laughed again.

I didn’t.

Rurik glanced at me and shook his head.

Eduard rested his elbows on the table, his voice casual. “How’s your girl, Matvey?” he asked, raising his voice just enough to carry across the table. “Is she warming up to you yet?”

Isaak’s eyebrow rose. “Watch out. I believe his hold on that cue is beginning to tighten.”

I remained silent.

Eduard missed the cue. “I mean, ten days, okay? How long does it take to melt a girl like that?

“Depends,” Isaak muttered, looking down. “Some girls melt, and others burn the place down.”

“Or cut your throat while you sleep,” Rurik put in, as dry as the grave his wife was buried in. Dude’s been a wreck since Yulia passed away. I was pretty sure someone needed to commit the guy to a mental hospital or something.

That one silenced the room for just a breath.

Eduard burst out laughing. “Christ, Rurik. You’ve always been the maniac of the family.”

I put the cue back on the rack and fixed my jacket, unwilling to indulge in any conversation about Zoella. She was mine; our life together was nobody’s business. “I’m stepping out.”

“Already?” Isaak rose slightly. “The night’s still young.”

“So are you. Complete your round.” I did not wait to hear their reply before rising to my feet and leaving.

I didn’t have to.

I walked down the hall, my footsteps ringing loudly on the marble floor. The heaviness in my chest had accompanied me from the table. It had been accompanying me for the last ten days.

I would have gone to the study, perhaps the gym, or even the armory—any place that would help me shed this excess energy.

Instead, I pulled my phone from the jacket pocket, swiped, and opened the locked app.

The surveillance feed came on in grayscale.

My jaw tightened before I even looked at her.

She was not in our bedroom.

I scrolled to another feed. The hallway lay empty as if no one lived in the damn house. Then I scrolled to the side corridor, and then the library.

There she was.