Page 6 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

A tall man comes into view. I can’t see his face as he stops in front of Papa.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” my father finally says.

His tone is controlled.

But it isn’t welcoming.

The man tilts his head slightly. “This is your last chance, Andrei. We don’t have much time,” he replies.

Another pause.

My fingers tighten around the book.

The man takes one step closer to Papa.

My father shifts slightly, blocking him without moving closer.

“What do you want?” my father asks.

The man exhales softly, like the question is tiring.

“The code,” he says simply.

The word means nothing to me.

But the way my father reacts to it is strange.

“I told you,” my father mutters, “it no longer exists.”

The man lets out a dark chuckle. “I knew you would say that.”

My breathing becomes shallow.

I don’t understand the conversation, but I understand the feeling in the room now.

It’s heavy.

Dense.

Like the air itself is listening.

My father takes a slow breath.

When he speaks again, his voice is lower, final: “You should leave.”

The man doesn’t move.

For a moment, neither of them does. I can feel the danger in the air before it happens.

Everything escalates in a blur of violent motion. Before I can even scream, the man lunges. I watch in paralyzed horror as the blade flashes, burying into my father again and again. Terror clamps a hand over my throat, forcing me into a suffocating silence as I fight with everything I have not to make a sound.

A scream tries to rise as my father drops to one knee, swaying hard. I swallow it.

It turns into something worse inside my chest.

My father staggers backward, hitting the edge of the couch. His hand presses against his side, then slips.

Red spreads through his fingers.