Page 107 of Scarred Angel

“Hold me.”

Those two words undo me completely. I don’t hesitate and grip the front of her sweater, drag her against my chest, and wrap my arms around her like she’s the only thing keeping me standing. I kiss her forehead, lingering.

“Moya krasivaya.”

Silence ripples across the room like a shockwave. Voices fade. Derek’s phone call dies mid-sentence. My parents stare like everyone else. For a moment, it’s as if no one is breathing.

“Finally!” AJ. Of course.

Valentina laughs and exhales a shuddering breath, then turns in my arms to face the room—our families—without letting go of me. Just like that, the truth is out, and the line is drawn. And she’s standing on my side of it.

“I know this isn’t the best time,” she begins, voice steady now, eyes darting across the room, “but I don’t see a point in hiding any longer. Maksim and I?—”

“She’s mine.”

Silence crashes over us again. Mom is the first to move. She slips out of Silas’s arms and crosses the room with a smile so full and warm it disarms the tension. She wraps both of us into a hug, her voice soft against Valentina’s hair.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs. “I knew it.”

The others join in. All except Derek. His cold gaze never leaves mine. Then he turns and walks out, the terrace door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the glass.

Valentina’s smile collapses, and she starts after him, but I catch her wrist.

“I’ve got this,” I say, tilting her chin so she can’t run from my eyes.

She breathes out slowly and nods, stepping aside.

“Maksim.” Mom’s voice is a warning.

I know exactly what she means without needing to look at her. She’ll choose me if it comes down to it, even if it tears this family in half.

But I won’t let it get that far.

Derek’s approval, his love, those things matter to Valentina more than anyone understands. And I’ll be damned before I let myself be the reason she ever sheds a single tear over this.

I turn toward the terrace, jaw tight.

Time to face Derek Cain.

Forty-Two

MAKSIM

Cigar smoke curls into the air as he leans against the balcony. At first glance, Derek looks calm, his mind lost somewhere in the dark stretch of land below. But I know better. The subtle tension in his shoulders and the taut veins in his hands against the stone railing tell a different story.

He doesn’t turn when the door clicks shut behind me. He doesn’t need to. Derek Cain has always been the kind of man who can sense threats long before they announce themselves.

I step closer, letting the silence settle between us, giving him the room he needs to process and brace for the conversation we both know is long overdue.

Because tonight, especially tonight, there’s no more avoiding it.

“I slept on a park bench that night. Cold, curled up, and cried until I felt nothing,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.

Derek doesn’t move, but I know he’s listening.

“A cop yanked me awake sometime before sunrise. Thought I was just another runaway. Dragged me to a state office, stamped some papers, and shipped me off.” I let out a low breath. “Andfrom there it was one shit show after another for almost a year until they found my Uncle Pyotr.”

“A happy ending. Congratulations,” he finally mutters, releasing a thin stream of smoke into the air.