Page 104 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

The air felt sucked out. I looked at Makar. He flashed a triumphant smile. Then he walked to Briony's side and put his arm around her shoulders.

"You heard her, brother." He looked at me smugly.

My eyes locked on that hand.

"Hand off her."

Makar didn't move.

"Briony's done with you. She doesn't want to be with you. Let her go."

I only wanted to hear it from Briony herself!

I stepped forward and grabbed Briony's wrist gently. But the instant I touched her, she frowned and her face twisted with disgust.

That reaction froze my heart.

"You can't go back to someone who hurt you just because you're angry at me." My heart felt like it was bleeding.

"Should I go back to the other person who hurt me instead?" Briony looked down at my hand.

My fingers lost their strength. The disappointment in her tone cut deeper than anger ever could.

"You're always like this, Varlam. You think you've been through more, know more, so your decisions must be right. You bought the company and made me your assistant. You didn't like me leaving, so you pulled me back. Now you find out I'm pregnant, and you want me to come home with you." Her voice was soft, but every sentence pressed down on my chest. "You never once asked what I wanted."

I wanted to say I could change. That I'd learn to ask. But if I kept holding her now, those words would just be another order.

I let go. Briony's wrist slipped out of my palm. The emptiness traveled up my arm and drilled into my chest.

"Let's go," Briony said to Makar.

Makar glanced at me and led her away. Their backs grew smaller and smaller.

I stood there, heart tearing apart. Was this what Brinny had felt all along?

For the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be abandoned by the person you loved—that suffocating, desperate feeling.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Varlam

After Briony left, I'd promised not to interfere with her choices.

It was the most unfamiliar thing I'd ever done.

I was good at keeping people. Contracts, debts, threats, leverage—if someone had desires, there was always a rope to slip around their neck. Half the dirty money in New York passed through my hands. The other half knew when to shut up. I didn't need to raise my voice or repeat orders.

But Briony didn't want a more comfortable rope. She wanted me to let go.

So I started watching Makar instead.

Didn't approach Briony, didn't call her, didn't let anyone mention my name around her. I just watched to see if my brother was doing his job.

At least, that's what I told myself.

Makar had actually changed lately.

He'd turn down his drinking buddies' invitations, make special trips to Briony's favorite bakery for low-sugar cookies, patiently accompany her to prenatal appointments.