Of course it fucking did. Ever since he’d married Irina Nikolai six months ago, their family had been walking on eggshells, trying to maintain the delicate peace between their organizations. Two powerful Bratva families suddenly joined by marriage, with decades of mistrust and violence between them. It was a powder keg waiting to explode.
“And what does that have to do with me?” she asked, though she already knew. Deep in her gut, she fucking knew.
“Marriage.” The word fell from his lips like a death sentence. “You’re going to marry Viktor Nikolai.”
The world tilted sideways. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she forced herself to remain upright, to keep her face blank even as her heart tried to claw its way out of her chest. Viktor. After all these years, after everything she’d done to forget him, to bury the memory of his ice blue eyes and the way he’d whispered her name like a prayer.
“Like hell I am.”
Matvei’s expression didn’t change. “It’s already decided. The contract has been signed.”
“Without asking me?” Her voice rose an octave, fury overriding the shock. “You signed away my life like I’m some fucking commodity?”
“You are a Volkov.” His tone was ice cold now, the voice he used on enemies right before he put bullets in their skulls. “Your duty is to this family. To our legacy.”
“My duty?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “My duty is to clean up the mess you and this piece of shit made?” She jerked her chin toward Adrian, who was watching the exchange with detached interest, like they were discussing the weather instead of destroying what was left of her soul.
“Careful, Anka.” Adrian’s voice was soft, dangerous. “You’re walking a very thin line.”
She whirled on him, every ounce of hatred she’d been carrying for four years blazing in her eyes. “Am I? And what are you going to do about it? Threaten to kill another man I care about? Oh, wait, you already played that card.”
The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. Matvei’s eyes sharpened, confusion flickering across his features. “What the hell are you talking about?”
This was it. The secret she’d been carrying like a cancer in her chest, eating her alive from the inside out. The reason she couldn’t look at Adrian without wanting to put a knife between his ribs. The reason she’d spent four years feeling like half a person, like she’d left the best part of herself in some coffee shop with a man who probably hated her more than anyone else on earth.
“Ask your beloved brother,” she snarled. “Ask him about the threats he made four years ago. Ask him about Viktor fucking Nikolai.”
Matvei went very still. When he was angry, really angry, he didn’t shout or throw things like their father used to. He became a statue, cold and immovable and absolutely fucking terrifying. “Adrian. Explain. Now.”
Adrian had the audacity to shrug. “She was compromising family security. Getting involved with someone from a rival family without authorization. I handled it.”
“You handled it?” She was screaming now, all pretense of control shattered. “You threatened to torture and kill the man I loved! You made me choose between his life and my happiness, and you call that handling it?”
“Love?” Matvei’s voice was deadly quiet. “You were in love with Viktor Nikolai?”
The confession hung in the air like smoke from a gun barrel. There was no taking it back now, no pretending it had been some casual fling or meaningless rebellion. She’d loved Viktor with every fiber of her being, and losing him had nearly destroyed her.
“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper. “I loved him. More than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my pathetic excuse for a life.”
“And you knew about this?” Matvei turned to Adrian, and for the first time since she’d entered the room, her middle brother looked uncomfortable.
“She was nineteen, reckless, and putting our entire organization at risk. The Nikolais were—”
“Are one of the most powerful Bratva families on the East Coast,” Matvei finished, his voice cutting through Adrian’s excuse like a blade. “A family we’ve now allied with. A familywhose respect and partnership could have been ours four years ago if you hadn’t fucked with things that weren’t your concern.”
Adrian’s face went pale. “You don’t understand. At the time—”
“At the time, you were a jealous, controlling asshole who couldn’t stand the thought of his baby sister being happy.” She stepped closer to him, her hands clenched into fists. “You told me they were small-time, insignificant. You made me believe that choosing Viktor would destroy our family. But that was bullshit, wasn’t it? You just couldn’t handle losing control over me.”
“Anka—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand, her whole body shaking with rage. “Don’t you dare try to justify what you did. You stole four years from me. Four years I could have spent with the only man who ever made me feel alive, who ever saw past the Volkov name and the blood on my hands to the person I actually was underneath all of this.”
The silence that followed was deafening. She could hear her heart hammering against her ribs, could feel the weight of Matvei’s stare as he processed everything she’d just confessed. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, controlled.
“How long were you together?”
“Eight months.” The words tasted like ashes. “Eight perfect, beautiful months where I got to be just Anka. Not a Volkov, not a Bratva princess, just... me.”
