Page 111 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

I turn back to the glowing screens in front of me, staring at the satellite maps of Russia. Engaging with Karl right now would only play into his hands and reinforce his twisted belief that he has a position of power over us.

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I choose to focus entirely on moving forward with the mission. The only way to permanently neutralize his threat is to reach the code and lock down the network before Karl can. He wants a war for Sofia’s life. He has no idea I’m about to bring the entire sky crashing down on his head.

One hour later, we’re in the air, the heavy drone of the private jet’s engines cutting through the clouds as we soar toward Russia.

Sofia and I are in our own private cabin, away from Ben and the rest of the guards. Looking across the small space at her, I can tell she’s incredibly nervous. Her fingers are tightly interlaced, her eyes darting toward the window as if she can see the danger waiting for us miles ahead.

I can’t stand seeing her look so fragile. I reach for her, wrapping my hands around her waist, and gently pull her into my lap. She lets out a soft gasp but quickly settles against my chest, her body melting into mine.

To get her mind completely off the looming threat and the shadow of Karl, I stroke her hair and softly ask her about her life back in Russia.

A faint, beautiful smile touches her lips, and she starts talking. She tells me all about Alec, her father’s younger brother, who took her in and raised her after everything fell apart. Sofia shares vivid fragments of her childhood in St. Petersburg and Moscow—her happiest memories, which are all intricately tied to the very books we’re now chasing across the globe.

I listen intently, absorbing not just the actual information she is giving me, but the deep, emotional way she connects toit. Seeing the passion re-ignite in her eyes makes the knot in my chest loosen just a bit.

Soon, the heavy tension in the cabin evaporates, and we are both laughing at a ridiculous story about an old librarian who used to chase her through the stacks. I smile to myself, burying my face into her soft hair as she giggles against my collarbone.

Let me do the worrying, I think fiercely, tightening my arms around her protectively.

I’ll fight the monsters. I just want her to be free.

Chapter 23 – Sofia

As soon as we touch down in Moscow, security is everywhere. It’s like we’re already in a war zone. The gray, biting cold of the Russian air hits my face for only a fraction of a second before men armed with huge guns surround us, forming a moving wall of tactical gear and black steel. They lead Lukyan and me across the tarmac to a waiting convoy, and we’re in the backseat of a heavily armored car before I even know it.

The door slams shut with a thick, airtight thud, cutting off the roar of the jet engines.

“Where are we going now?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “Are we going straight to a safe house?”

“No, we don’t idle,” Lukyan says, his voice flat and commanding as he reaches across the seat. He takes my hand, bringing it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. “We’re going to the storage facility to grab the books first. We get what you need, then we go straight to a hotel, secure the perimeter, and fly back to the States tomorrow morning. I’m not keeping you in this city a second longer than necessary.”

I smile, the tight knot in my chest loosening just enough for me to breathe. “A hotel? Is it safe?”

“It’s mine,” he replies thoroughly, his eyes offering a silent, lethal promise of absolute safety. “Every employee on the floor is on my payroll, and my men will own the hallways. No one gets within three floors of us.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I turn and look out the window as the car zooms out of the hangar and into the chaotic traffic of Moscow.

Russia carries the weight of my past, and stepping back into it brings a mixture of deep nostalgia and sharp unease. The familiar gray architecture, the Cyrillic signs, and the heavy winter sky all remind me of the girl I used to be. But there is notime to drown in old ghosts. The focus quickly shifts to the task at hand as the convoy pulls into a heavily fortified, industrial perimeter and stops right outside the storage facility where my belongings have been kept since I fled.

The heavy metal shutter of the unit is rolled open with a loud, echoing screech, revealing stacks of cardboard boxes that have remained completely untouched for years. A thin layer of dust coats everything.

I step inside, the scent of aged paper and old cardboard immediately washing over me. I move through them carefully, recognizing items from my past—a porcelain teacup, a woolen scarf, an old photo frame. Each object carries fragments of memory, pulling at my heart.

The emotional undercurrent is heavy, threatening to pull me under, but I bite the inside of my cheek and refuse to allow myself to linger.

“Sofia.” Lukyan’s voice cuts through the quiet of the locker. He stands at the entrance, his hand resting near his holster as his eyes scan the perimeter. “We need to move. Pick up the pace. Which box is it?”

“It’s the wooden crate at the back,” I tell him, my focus remaining entirely on the books. “The one with the iron clasps. My father packed it himself.”

I kneel before the crate, my hands moving fast as I pop the latches and dig past the protective linen. I begin locating the missing pieces, identifying them with growing certainty as my fingers brush against the worn spines.

“I found them,” I breathe out, lifting the heavy volumes. “The volume of Pushkin. And the historical biography. Look at the edges—the gold leafing matches the cipher grid perfectly.”

The moment my fingers wrap around the leather covers, the intricate pattern I uncovered back in the library starts toreassemble in my mind as the books are finally brought together. The missing links are in my hands.

Lukyan steps closer, holding open a specialized, padded tactical case. “Hand them over, Sofia. Let me secure them. We need to get these packed into the transport vehicle right now.”

“Be careful with them,” I say, gently placing the books into the foam slots. “If a single page rips, we lose the alignment.”