Page 14 of Bratva Stalker Kidnaps His Bride

Her own cute way of rebellion, it seems. In the end, it is irreversible. Zara Khan becomes Zara Korovin in the eyes of every system that matters.

There is no celebratory cheer, no nothing, except the utter stillness to Zara’s frame, fury contained. When I find her eyes, cold fire burns there.

“This changes nothing.” She declares quietly enough that only I hear, but even then, her pulse beats fast beneath her throat.

She is my wife.

Something dark settles inside me.

My hand closes around hers.

Warm skin, rapid pulse, controlled fury.

I lean close enough that my voice belongs only to her.

“No,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on hers as the city glitters cold and endless beyond the glass. “You simply have fewer places left to run.”

“The ceremony is complete,” the officiant announces, clearing his throat, visibly eager to finish his role and disappear from this room. “There remains one final tradition. The couple may kiss.”

Zara stiffens.

“Oh, this should be entertaining,” I hear Anton snickering but my ears shut everything out that isn’t her. I turn fully toward Zara as she lifts her chin. She pretends to be brave andunaffected, but I can tell from her trembling and the little exhale that parts her lips that it’s nothing but a facade.

I can almost hear her thoughts moving behind those eyes, sharp and relentless, analyzing everything. She is likely calculating whether refusal would be better than compliance, whether denying serves any purpose at all.

That mind of hers never stops moving.

I step closer, her head leaning back to keep her eyes on me. Her eyes flicker in her skull, and the faintest red colors her cheeks.

There it is.

She fights it, pretends she doesn’t feel it, but I know it as well as she does. The same feeling presses low beneath my ribs.

Her faint scent of jasmine and clean fabric drifts up to my nostrils, clouding my senses.

“Do not mistake this for affection,” I murmur as I raise my palm to cup her face.

Something flashes across her face but I have already leaned down to press my lips against hers by then.

Our lips are dry as they brush against each other, but the lack of tenderness doesn’t mean I don’t feel the heat, not gradual like embers catching but violent like striking metal against stone and discovering sparks.

She goes rigid under my hold. Her body tells me before her mind can bury the response. She kisses me back like retaliation, her fingers fisting in the fabric of my jacket; the pressure of her mouth shifts fiercely, as though she refuses to allow even this moment to belong solely to me.

My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, a warning and temptation alike.

She trembles, and I can feel that it’s not with fear.

She breaks the kiss first, her breathing no longer perfectly even. Mine remains steady, but internally, something has shifted.

Zara’s eyes are darker and wider than I’ve ever seen them.

“That changes nothing.”

No, Zara, that changes everything.

Chapter 5 - Zara

A few days pass after the wedding, even though time inside the penthouse behaves strangely, stretching and compressing forever. The city continues outside the glass—Manhattan breathing—but inside these walls, everything narrows into a war of inches.