Page 114 of The Cold Bratva King and His Forced Curvy Bride

“Let’s get inside,” Nikita says. “We’re exposed here.”

The penthouse is exactly how I remember it. Someone has cleaned up the bodies and the blood, and it looks for all the world like nothing happened.

Ayaan collapses onto the couch, wincing as he moves.

“You’re hurt,” I say immediately.

“Just a graze,” he dismisses. “Nothing serious.”

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine.”

He looks at Nikita. “Do you have a drink?”

Nikita walks to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of expensive whiskey. He pours, sliding one across the counter to Ayaan, one to me, and keeping one for himself.

“To survival,” Ayaan says, raising his glass.

“To survival,” Nikita echoes.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the ghosts of the last two years. I look at my brother, then at my husband.

They’re two sides of the same coin. The light and the dark. The protector and the destroyer. Both willing to burn the world to keep me safe.

It’s overwhelming.

I set my glass down on the counter. “I need some air.”

“The balcony is unlocked.”

I nod, walking to the window. I push it open and step out onto the rusted metal landing. The city is spread out below me, a sea of lights. I take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs.

I hear the door slide open behind me.

“Are you okay?”

It’s Ayaan.

I lean back against the railing, looking at him. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For everything.”

“I know.”

“I did it to protect you.”

“I know that too.”

He steps closer, leaning against the railing next to me. “He loves you, you know.”

I glance at him, startled. “He owns me, Ayaan. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” He nudges my shoulder with his. “I saw the way he looked at you in the warehouse. I saw the way he moved to shield you. He wasn’t just protecting an asset. He was protecting the woman he loves.”

“He never said it.”

“He doesn’t have to. It’s written all over his face whenever you walk into the room.”