Lev has already hauled Daria to her feet, his grip on her arm brutal enough to make her whimper. She's still screaming through her broken nose, her words garbled but clearly threatening, clearly unhinged.
"I'll kill her! I'll kill that whore! She deserves to die!"
Roman's jaw tightens, and I see his hands curl into fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he might actually kill Daria right here, right now. But then Boris Borisov appears in the doorway, his face going ashen as he takes in the scene.
"Daria!Bozhe moy, what have you done?"
"She attacked me!" Daria shrieks, still struggling against Lev's iron grip. "That bitch attacked me!"
"Liar." My voice is steady now, cold with anger. "You came at me with a letter opener. You tried to kill me."
Boris's expression crumbles. He knows. He knows his daughter has just destroyed any leverage he had, any hope of salvaging this situation. Attacking the Pakhan’s fiancée is unforgivable, a violation of every code the Bratva lives by.
"Roman, please." Boris's voice cracks with desperation. "I didn't know. I swear on my life, I didn't know she would do this. Please, have mercy."
Roman doesn't look at Boris. His attention is fixed on me, his hands moving over my arms with surprising gentleness, checking the depth of the cuts, making sure I'm truly okay. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled, but I hear the rage simmering beneath.
"Get her out of my house. Out of this country. I want her on a plane to Russia within the hour."
"Yes, yes, of course." Boris is practically groveling now, his earlier bluster completely gone. "I'll send her to my brother in Siberia. She'll never come near you again. Please, Roman, I'm begging you. Don't retaliate against my family. This was Daria's madness, not mine."
Roman finally looks at Boris, and the older man actually flinches. "You have one hour. If she's still in this country after that, I'll consider it a declaration of war."
Boris nods frantically, then gestures to Lev. "Please, let me take her."
Lev looks to Roman, who gives a curt nod. The moment Lev releases her, Daria lunges at me again, but Boris catches her, wrapping his arms around his daughter as she screams and thrashes.
"I'll destroy you! Both of you! You'll pay for this humiliation!"
Boris drags her toward the door, still apologizing, still promising she'll be gone within the hour. Their voices fade as they descend the stairs, Daria's threats echoing through the estate until the front door finally closes.
Silence settles over the sitting room, broken only by my ragged breathing. Roman's hands are still on my arms, his touch gentle despite the violence I know he's capable of. When I finally look up at him, I see something in his blue eyes I've never seen before. Fear.
"I should have been here." His voice is rough, his accent thicker than usual. "In our own home, you were attacked, and I wasn't here to protect you."
"You came." I reach up, cupping his face with my uninjured hand. "You came when I called."
"Not fast enough." His jaw tightens beneath my palm. "If she'd hurt you worse, if she'd hurt the baby…"
He doesn't finish the sentence, but I see the promise of violence in his expression. Daria Borisova is lucky she's being sent toSiberia. If she'd actually harmed me or our child, I don't think distance would have saved her from Roman's wrath.
"I'm okay," I repeat, and this time, I mean it. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me shaky but whole. "We're okay."
Roman pulls me against his chest, careful of my injuries, and I feel his heart pounding against my cheek. For a long moment, we just stand there, holding each other, both of us processing how close we came to disaster.
Later that evening, after Roman has personally cleaned and bandaged my cuts, after he's called his doctor to examine me and confirm the baby is fine, I find myself unable to sleep. I wander downstairs for water and hear voices drifting from Roman's study. The door is slightly ajar, and I recognize Lev's low tone.
I know I shouldn't eavesdrop. But something in Lev's voice makes me pause, makes me press closer to the doorway.
"Three more Chinese gambling operations hit tonight," Lev is saying. "Witnesses say the attackers were speaking Russian. Using tactics that match our known methods."
"Blyat." Roman's curse is vicious. "And the Irish?"
"Two weapons shipments hijacked. Same story. Professional execution, Russian speakers, our signature moves." Lev's voice drops lower. "Roman, we're losing control. The other families are starting to believe you're breaking the alliances. That you're expanding aggressively."
"It's Yakovlev. It has to be."
"Of course it's Yakovlev. But we still can't prove it." Frustration bleeds through Lev's controlled tone. "And without proof, if wemove against him, we look like the aggressors. We unite the other families against us."
