Page 115 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

“It’s okay,” I murmur, guiding her back toward the bed. “We can just lie down together.”

We stretch out on the heavy mattress, her head resting on my chest as I keep one arm locked securely around her waist, my eyes tracking the shadows on the ceiling.

Almost twenty minutes later, a heavy, rhythmic knock sounds at the door.

I gently slide out from under Sofia, signaling for her to stay put, and pull my weapon as I approach the threshold. I open it to find Viktor standing there, his face slick with sweat and his chest heaving as if he had run up the stairs.

“Boss,” Viktor says, his eyes dark with adrenaline. “A lead has emerged. Karl has been located.”

I find myself thoroughly impressed by how quickly my men find answers. My network is lethal on a normal day, but with Ben in captivity, the entire organization is moving with a terrifying, desperate speed.

I look at Viktor, my voice dropping. “Prepare the men. We’re going right now.”

He nods sharply and walks away, his boots echoing down the marble hallway.

I turn back to close the door, but Sofia is already there, standing beside me in a matter of seconds. Her face is pale, but her eyes are blazing with that same unyielding rage I saw moments ago.

“I’m going with you,” she says, her tone completely flat, leaving no room for negotiation.

I don’t even hesitate. “That’s not happening, Sofia. Stay in the room.”

“The books are there, Lukyan!” she snaps, her voice rising as she steps closer, invading my space. “My father’s legacy—it’s all there. I’m not going to sit here like a piece of fragile glass while you go fight for me.”

“I’ll bring the books back to you,” I say, my hands coming up to grip her upper arms, trying to ground her, trying to make her see reason. “And I’ll bring Ben back alive. But you’re staying in this penthouse where my perimeter is secure.”

Sofia tears herself out of my grip, taking a step back, her chest heaving. “No! I want to go confront Karl myself! I need to look at the man who’s been pulling the strings of my misery for years. I’m going, Lukyan!”

“I said no, Sofia! End of story!” I roar, the safehouse walls vibrating with the force of my voice. The fear of losing her, the memory of the ambush, and the ticking clock on Ben’s life all collide inside my chest, snapping my patience.

“Oh, because the great Lukyan Rusnak has spoken?” she fires back, her laugh bitter and sharp as she glares up at me. “Is that how this works? You just slip right back into being the dictator? You completely lock me out the second things get dangerous!”

“I’m trying to keep you alive!” I growl, taking a predatory step toward her, my shadow completely engulfing her frame. “Karl has an entire tactical team. He just shot up a warehouse, he snatched my right-hand man, and he wants you dead. You’re a civilian, Sofia. You walking into a live fire zone is suicide, and I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Sofia’s voice cracks, a dangerous, volatile mix of tears and pure fury spilling over. “Listen to yourself! You talk about protecting me, but you’re just trapping me in a different cage. This turns into exactly what it was in the beginning: you controlling my life, deciding where I go, who I see, and what I’m allowed to handle!”

“This is about your survival, not my control!”

“It’s the same damn thing to you!” she screams, poking a firm finger directly into my chest, right over my heart. “Every time I try to take ownership of my own story, of my father’s work, you step in and tell me I’m too weak, too fragile, too precious to handle the dirt. If I sit in this hotel room while you go slaughter everyone, I’m letting Karl win. I’m letting him keep meafraid. I’m going to that location, Lukyan, whether you put me in the car or I find a way there myself!”

I run a hand through my hair, the frustration burning hot through my veins. I decide to ignore her. I don’t care if she hates me, and I don’t care if she thinks I’m a tyrant. As long as she’s safe, I can live with being the villain in her story.

I turn on my heel and stalk toward the bedroom door, determined to end this argument by simply removing myself from it. But just as my hand grips the heavy brass handle, her voice stops me cold.

“If you leave this room without me,” she says, her voice dropping to a dead, icy whisper that carries more weight than any shout, “I’ll never forgive you. I promise you that, Lukyan.”

The words strike me like a physical blow, freezing me completely in my tracks. My hand tightens on the doorknob until my knuckles turn white. A heavy, suffocating silence fills the room. I know her. I know the fierce, unyielding pride in her chest. She isn’t throwing a tantrum; she is drawing a line in the sand, and if I cross it, I might save her body but lose her soul forever.

Slowly, I let go of the handle and turn around to face her. My expression is grim, my jaw locked tight as I stare across the room at her standing there, defiant and trembling with rage.

“Okay,” I say, my voice dangerously low as I walk back over to her, stopping until I’m towering directly over her. “You’ll come with me. But hear me clearly, Sofia. The second we hit that location, you do exactly as I say. If a single gun fires, you drop to the floor. You follow my orders without a second of hesitation, and you stay alive. Because if you get hurt out there… it is I who won’t forgive you.”

Chapter 25 – Sofia

The industrial warehouse on the outskirts of Moscow smells of damp concrete, rust, and old oil. The atmosphere is suffocatingly tense, a heavy sense of finality evident in the way Lukyan’s men move through the shadows, checking their sights in absolute silence.

No one speaks. Every breath is calculated. I’m kept strictly in the center of the formation, Lukyan’s massive frame never shifting more than a few inches away from mine as we breach the building’s side entrance.

As we enter the vast, hollow space of the main floor, the confrontation unfolds quickly. Floodlights flicker to life overhead, cutting through the gloom to reveal a small army of armed men waiting for us. Standing right in the center, flanked by his mercenaries, is a man with a commanding presence.