Page 30 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva (Yezhov Bratva #8)

I walked into the dungeon and stood outside the damn cell way longer than I should have.

I’d never really noticed how thick the air was down here before until now. It was cold, stale, and smelled like dried blood and something rotten.

As disturbing as it was, it didn’t have my attention.

Rurik did.

He didn’t look up, even though he knew I was close by. Just sat there on a bench inside the cell, shoulders hunched, hands tangled in his hair as if they could somehow hide the guilt gnawing at his bones.

And for a second, the man I saw wasn’t the one who’d committed a grave crime.

It was my brother.

The kid who used to steal apples with me from the market and run like hell down the streets, laughing like we were unstoppable. When the world hadn’t scarred us yet.

I saw the boy who stood by me and took a blade for me when we were fifteen and swore he’d die before breaking his word.

But that boy had been dead a long time, hadn’t he?

The man who sat here was not the Rurik I knew. My brother wouldn’t kill his wife to protect his greed and selfish interests.

And yet, that was what he was guilty of.

Maybe that was what broke me the most. Not the betrayal, but rather the loss of who we used to be.

Of who he used to be.

I wanted to hate him clean, mostly because I knew what this revelation did to my wife. I knew how much this truth would hurt her.

And hurting her…made me uncomfortable.

If I didn’t restrain myself, I would walk in, put a bullet between his eyes, and walk out without flinching. That would’ve been easier. That would’ve been mercy, in a way. But I didn’t feel clean. I felt carved open.

Somehow, as crazy as it was, it felt like a part of me was rotting right there in that cell with him.

Rurik finally looked up. Jaw clenched and eyes bloodshot, but not from crying. Rurik didn’t cry. Neither did I. Not when we buried our first body.

Not when our father died.

Not even when we knew that countless times it was us against the world.

But something in me— those crazy sturdy walls we’d spent years building— cracked seeing him like that.

And all I could think was loyalty wasn’t loyalty if it only lasted in times of comfort.

Loyalty was what you bled for. What you killed for. And the fool broke it.

I heard a quiet shuffle of sandaled feet at the entrance and picked up her scent before I looked over my shoulder.

Zoella stood there just past the cell bars, still trembling with wide eyes as she stared at Rurik seated just a few feet away.

“Why?”

Her voice was barely even a whisper, but I heard the question clearly, and the subtle shift on the bench and dark grunt from inside the cell was a sign that Rurik did too.

I knew he wouldn’t speak. He wouldn’t bother giving Zoella an explanation.

That left the responsibility on my shoulders and, though I didn’t want to, I knew I had to say it, no matter how stupid the reason was.

“Yulia being present would have gotten in the way of his new life with his mistress.”

Zoella sank onto one of the nearby benches and slipped her small hands over her bulging stomach like she could shield our unborn child from the ugliness of the reality surrounding us.

“Matvey, I’m releasing you from your promise.” She stroked her belly, and a tear dropped from her eyes. “I don’t want our child to be born into this…this kind of life. I just can’t. My heart can’t bear any more of this violence, the selfishness, and greed.”

I was familiar with the brokenness in her eyes.

The only difference was that I shielded the world from seeing mine. I knew what it felt like to lose people you cared about, and there was that moment you realized that person wasn’t coming back.

That nothing you said, screamed, or begged could undo what was done.

In this case, it was her sister who suffered a terrible fate, and Zoella had no choice but to deal with the void her absence brought.

I wanted to reach for her, pull her into me, and lie to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay. But there was no comfort strong enough for a grief like hers.

So I just stood there and watched her fall apart without making a sound.

I looked over my shoulder, staring hard at Rurik.

He seemed too calm for a man who anticipated death. We knew better than anyone that actions like his had dire consequences.

I’d killed for less than what he did. I’d buried men who’d only threatened our family without even laying a single hand on us. And yet here I was, frozen by uncertainty.

He attacked my wife and killed her sister.

Still.

My decision was significant because it would serve as a benchmark. I knew it would send a message to the men and the entire Bratva.

I knew what could be done, but wasn’t sure whether or not to do it. Because for the first time, I had to accept that I couldn’t fix this. Nothing could bring her sister back or right the wrong done against them.

Power and influence didn’t mean a fucking thing in this moment. Not when Zoella looked at me like she wasn’t sure how close she should even sit next to me, because my world had swallowed hers whole.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

When I finally found courage to move, I knelt beside her, and our eyes locked when my hand found her stomach.

This moment was something pure that I had never in my wildest dreams thought possible to have.

A wildfire spread violently inside me, and for the first time in years, the weight in my chest cracked just enough to let something softer in.

I felt sharp edges dull, just for her. Just for them.

My face must’ve changed, because she looked at me funny, but I didn’t say a word. The words in my heart felt too heavy to speak out loud, so touching her was the only way I knew to communicate my vow.

I’ll keep you safe.

I lifted a hand to cradle her cheek and felt a bit of reassurance when she leaned into my palm. I raised my lips to hers, did a rethink, and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead before pulling away and rising to my feet.

Despite her pleas, some debts never truly disappeared.

Quietly, I helped her to her feet and led us out of the stuffy room.

Her breathing slowed, but she was still shaking. Walking down the dark corridor, Zoella curled into me, disregarding everything else.

Her fingers twitched against my shirt, like she needed it to anchor her, and I let her hold on, tightening my arms around her.

I looked back at the doors closing.

Making a decision on my next course of action against Rurik was inevitable. Even if I showed him a sliver of mercy by letting him breathe tonight, the consequences were far from being over.