I swirl with my spoon in my tea.
“Should I be worried about his temper? Should I plan to escape if something bad happens?”
Her eyes widen. “Goodness, no.”
“But—”
“No. You learn him. You adapt. You read him. Petyr is a hothead too, but ultimately, a good husband. You will have it harder, but that is how you survive a man like Gustav.”
She sure knows a lot about my husband. I say nothing, though. I’m in no place to lose her trust.
My first class begins after lunch. A course just for new bratva wives.
Apparently, marriage into a criminal dynasty comes with special coursework. I’m ushered through the building by Micha until I’m deposited in front of a classroom door with a brass plaque. The letters gleam sharply.
Etiquette. Protocol. Conduct.
The rules of spouse survival.
Also, lame. Definitely seems more European than American.
Inside, ten women sit in a semicircle. Their coats rest over their chairs in neat folds; their hair is pinned with precision that makes me suddenly self-conscious of my own. Elegant, immaculate, disciplined. Their expressions give nothing away.
I take the last empty seat.
The instructor, a rigid woman with silver hair scraped into a knot tight enough to pull her brows, taps her clipboard.
“We begin with introductions. Name and bratva.”
Simple enough.
One by one, the women rise.
“Olga. Volkov Bratva.”
“Yuli. Orel Bratva.”
“Brinna. Mogilevich Bratva.”
Their pronunciations are flawless. Their confidence is carved from iron. Each family name lands with weight, as if each one carries centuries of pride and power.
When the last woman sits, all eyes slide to me.
I stand, heart beating too loudly, and smooth my sleeves.
“I’m Peighton,” I say. “Sokolov Bratva.”
The name comes out wrong, the consonants clumsy. I know it, but the room’s reaction is far worse than a few raised brows.
Every woman side-glances.
One girl grimaces.
Another performs a tiny, quiet sign of the cross.
Someone else’s mouth parts in a soft gasp, like I just announced I belong to a cursed house.
I grip the back of my chair. “What? Did I mispronounce it that bad? I’m American.”
