Page 35 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva (Yezhov Bratva #8)

One Year Later.

“Don’t let the cake get in her eyes!”

The golden sun poured through the garden, bright and warm, as if it knew this day meant something and had decided to come out and play.

Hearty laughter rolled through the air as the children darted between tables, chasing each other in loops, while the adults stood in loose circles, sipping drinks.

Joy was infused in the air, as well as the low him of conversation.

But all I could look at was Mira.

She stood on wobbly legs in the middle of the grass, her baby curls now wild from the breeze, cake smeared across her cheeks like war paint.

She clapped her sticky hands together and let out a squeal of delight that made my throat tighten.

She was so beautiful, I thought I would start tearing up for the umpteenth time today.

She had Matvey’s eyes, my smile, and her own astounding uniqueness.

I reached for my drink, but before I could take a sip, my eyes caught movement under a line-up of trees. Some of the adults relaxed there, and amongst them were Matvey’s cousins.

Mira wobbled in their direction, still clapping her sticky hands together before sassily spreading her arms upward for Eduard to pick her up.

Elena, Damien’s wife, was laughing at something her husband whispered into her ear, her head tilted back with no care in the world.

And across the yard, Isaak nursed a drink with one hand tucked in his pocket.

Seeing him always brought back not-so-fine memories, but the more his presence lingered around the house, the more I got used to accepting the concept of moving on.

He looked exactly like he always did, stern-faced and deadly, but somehow softer tonight. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered just a second too long on the skies. Or maybe it was just me, still seeing the ghost of my sister in the curve of his smile.

I wasn’t his greatest fan, but I was grateful for the peace he’d given Yulia during her short time with the Yezhovs. Despite the danger that surrounded us, he managed to put a smile on her face and make her laugh, if only for a little while.

That was the only reason I gave him a short wave from a distance as I stepped down from the terrace, my heels sinking slightly into the grass.

At the other end of the yard, Matvey moved through the crowd like he owned the damn world. And maybe, in our corner of it, he did.

More guests milled about: Matvey’s business allies, old friends, a few people we didn’t quite trust but had to tolerate. But my husband? He barely noticed them.

And I loved watching him strut with that special swagger and away, like he reminded the world every second that he was untouchable.

From my perspective, he looked like a delicious meal I could gobble up right now.

He nodded now and then, offered the occasional tight-lipped smile, but his attention darted somewhere else.

Mira somehow pried herself from Eduard’s arms and went barreling toward her father in a wobbling blue of curls and giggles.

He crouched low and scooped her into his arms mid-sprint, her tiny arms flinging around his neck.

From where I stood watching them, I heard her loudly babble something about cake and bu-tta-flas (butterflies) and the “secret treasure” she’d hidden in the rosebushes.

Matvey murmured something low to her, and she giggled like he’d just offered her truckloads of strawberries.

She loved strawberries.

Matvey didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve well. But with Mira? He was different. With her, his steel bent and stone walls grew flowers.

With us…all resistance melted completely.

He caught my gaze across the garden and held it. For a second, the rest of the world slipped out of focus.

Then he ambled toward me with that slow gait, like he had all the time in the world, Mira perched on his hip, her little hands tangled in his collar.

“Your daughter is supposed to bring peace, and yet, she’s conspiring with bees,” he said, stopping in front of me.

“Bees?” I smiled. “She must get such wicked ideas from your side.”

He grunted, beckoned to one of the nannies we’d hired, and passed Mira to the young lady, who whisked her away with promises of strawberries and some incoherent babble I didn’t catch on to.

Matvey tugged me toward him until I was flush against his chest. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“Am I?” I tilted my chin up, eyes locking with his. “What am I thinking?”

“That you don’t trust the quiet,” he said, brushing my hair back, fingers lingering on my jaw. “That maybe all this joy and happiness won’t last.”

I swallowed. “It never does, does it?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower. “Maybe not. But I’ll fight like hell to keep it for you and Mira.”

I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his. “I know.”

Then, before either of us could react, across the garden, I caught a glimpse of my father.

As usual, Blake Carter was as imposing as ever in his dark suit and dark aura. But tonight, his hand rested gently on Lillian’s back, and for once, he looked human.

They both did, smiling, holding flutes of champagne, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Mira. Grandparents now, huh? The kind who buy too many toys and pretend not to know about bedtime rules.

“I still don’t trust him,” Matvey said beside my ear, voice hardening slightly. “Or her.”

“I know,” I replied quietly, because he echoed my thoughts.

I wasn’t sure I fully forgave them either. My father was silent when I needed him most, except for when he’d been held hostage by Matvey. I’d walked through fire, and they’d stayed dry on the other side. But Mira loved them. And for her, I could make peace with ghosts.

“Tonight’s not for them,” I said, turning to face Matvey fully, my hands sliding up the lapels of his jacket. “Tonight’s for us.”

His eyes darkened, and that look in them…the one that always melted my spine and made me forget the world. “You’re right,” he said, voice thick. “So let’s make it count.”

Before I could answer, he kissed me, like he needed to brand the memory into my bones, and I kissed him back with everything I had. His hand tangled in my hair, and mine gripped his jacket tightly.

It didn’t matter if all of our guests could spot us in an instant; for now, it was just him and me.

***

Mira’s soft breaths tickled my collarbone, her little body heavy with sleep against my chest. She clutched a corner of her blanket in one hand, the other tangled in my hair.

The party had long been over. Outside, the skies were pitch black and starless.

I tucked Mira in, brushing her curls from her forehead as her lashes fluttered.

Her breathing steadied first, then deepened. One little arm flopped over the stuffed bear Matvey brought back from Vienna last month. The one she weirdly named “ Bearski .”

“Goodnight, my love.” I pressed a kiss to her temple. “Dream soft.”

I turned off the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed, just watching her for a moment longer. Then, I remembered one of Matvey’s family that couldn’t make it to the party.

He hadn’t been invited, and if he had shown up, I knew Matvey wouldn’t have hesitated to feed him to the dogs. He’d made that threat once, and I believed he would do it.

Rurik’s shadow had long since vanished.

The last anyone heard, he was rotting in some forgotten flat two cities over, drinking himself toward death. No one here said his name anymore.

He was dust in our rearview, and we had no intention of looking back. His story ended the moment Matvey chose to let him walk free. The moment the brotherhood made sure he wouldn’t rise again.

Barely a moment later, Matvey walked into the room, smelling like soap and an unfamiliar cologne. The way the air shifted when he walked into any room was something I knew as well as my own heartbeat.

He sat down beside me, his weight sinking into the mattress, as his arm brushed mine. I leaned into him without hesitation.

His lips brushed the top of my head. “She’s out?”

I nodded. “Finally. Took a war and three bedtime stories.”

Matvey chuckled low under his breath, and it warmed me. His hand found mine, rough fingers curling around mine.

We sat in welcome silence for a second, just taking in everything and enjoying each other’s company.

Then I asked it, a question that had lingered quietly for months but never had the chance to be aired.

“If you could’ve been someone else,” I whispered, “someone who wasn’t Matvey Yezhov, not part of the Bratva…who would you have been?”

He didn’t answer right away. His thumb moved slowly along the back of my hand, and I knew he was thinking. I finally turned to him, and his eyes were on Mira.

“I used to think about that all the time,” he said.

“Back when I was younger. Before you. Before her. During those days when all I wanted was quiet anonymity. One time, I wanted to be a carpenter in some small forgotten town. Work with my hands and come home to a wife and probably children waiting up for me to join them at the dinner table.”

“ You wished for a normal life?”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you call it.”

I let that image settle in, and it was almost impossible to believe that the man who moved through this world with a loaded gun once wished to build tables and fix doors in peace.

It almost made sense.

Or maybe, it doesn’t.

“But,” he continued, looking out the window, “that man wouldn’t have had you . He wouldn’t have our daughter. And he certainly wouldn’t have even known what he was missing.”

He turned to face me fully then, his free hand lifting to brush my cheek. “If being someone else means not having this life with you, I don’t want it. I’m not interested in who I could’ve been. I only care about who I am right now.”

I swallowed hard, and my throat ached with overwhelming sweetness.

“I choose this,” he said. “You. Mira. Every day. Even with all the darkness I came from, you two are the light I didn’t think I’d ever be allowed to have. And now that I do, there’s nothing else I want.”

My heart cracked open all over again, the way it always did with him.

We both knew what we had was far from being perfect. It was jagged and earned and stitched together with every horror we’d survived.

But at least it was real.

I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his. “Then we’ll stay here in this life we built. No what-ifs.”

“No what-ifs,” he echoed, then smiled at Mira. “You know, she’s got your fire.”

I looked up at him, catching the edge of a smile that softened the sharp edges of his face. “She’s got your eyes.”

He hummed. “Poor thing.”

“Shut up.”

His mouth quirked, and before I could say a word, one hand came up to cup my jaw, rough fingers brushing the corner of my mouth as he breathed.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” I teased. “I remember the threats, then there was duress, and everything else but love.”

“And I’d do it again.” His forehead touched mine. “You know I would.”

My throat tightened, and I kissed him. It was soft at first, then harder.

His hands slid to my waist, gripping like he could feel time slipping through his fingers, and he needed to hold me down.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against my lips, and I cradled his cheeks, struggling to find the right words to encapsulate all I felt in this moment.

Sighing, I kissed his forehead and buried my face in his chest.

“And you are everything too, Matvey. But most importantly, you are mine. ”

***

THE END