Broken Bride (Belaya Bratva 2)

The room was dark when I entered, and instead of going to her bed, I ended up in the chair, settling in so I could watch her sleep. The moonlight washed over her features, and she looked far more vulnerable than normal. Had her skin grown paler?

I hated myself for how I had conducted that discussion with her. But again, I reminded myself that it was necessary. Yet I could not shake the sight of the fear in her eyes. It haunted me everywhere I looked. The image had imprinted itself deep on my mind.

I hoped I hadn’t done anything more.

Had I scared her too much? Could it have threatened her health and that of our child? I didn’t mean to. Now that I looked back on my actions, I wished I would have handled it better. But surely she must understand that this was for the best.

The less she knew of what I did, the safer she would be. The safer I would be.

Love, devotion, and tender feelings had no place in my world.

Not since…Well, it did no good to dwell on old memories and dead nightmares.

I rubbed a hand over my face wearily. I had hoped that Naomi would be different, but what she had done just showed that all women were the same.

This could be just the start of her ways to ruin me. She held the truth about Sveta in the palm of her hand, and one well-placed word could bring everything I was working toward tumbling down.

Or she could somehow get in touch with the Feds. They were never far enough away for my liking. And no matter who I put on the payroll, it seemed that I always suffered through a yearly visit from them, detaining me from my business for hours while they tried to intimidate me.

There were likely a thousand different ways she could ruin my life.

Then why did I continue keeping her in the forefront of my thoughts? I should just lock her in this room, keep her in this mansion until she gave birth. Use her as nothing but a vessel for children.

And what then? When I’d hatched this plan, I had briefly considered sending Sveta away once our child was born, letting her live the rest of her days somewhere where she couldn’t be touched.

But Naomi had complicated everything.

She held my heart in one hand—even if she didn’t realize it—and my balls in the other. I couldn’t bear to part with her, to know that she was in the wind for anyone to lay their hands on. At the same time, I couldn’t trust that she’d be allowed to go free. To let her loose where discovery could mean not only the end of my alliance with the Krasnaya brigadiers but also the illegitimacy of our child in claiming the Orlov legacy.

Casually, I thought about what would happen on the day of our child’s birth. The day that I might have a way out of this mess. Could I let her walk away and trust that she would keep her mouth shut for her sake and mine?

Or would I need to ensure it by the cruelest of measures? By putting my hands around her neck and squeezing until the life left her eyes? And then I collapsed to the ground, cradling her lifeless body as tears poured hard and fast from my eyes.

No!

I jolted awake, my heart racing.

I had fallen asleep in the chair, the last visage of my thoughts fading from my memory. Did I truly just dream of killing Naomi?

But above all else, the intense regret and pain in the dream tore at my heart. She had been right about a lot of things during our argument. She was right that I had brought this on myself. She hadn’t asked to be married to me or to be forced to carry on this lie to everyone around us.

That had been my doing.

But she didn’t know the storm raging inside of me. The monster within roared at me to kill her, to keep our secret. And the man—hidden under the impenetrable armor that he had built over the years—yearned to keep her safe.

And the dream was all that I needed to show me which one I truly wanted.

But could I trust her not to betray me?

I straightened in the chair and contemplated my next move. I didn’t have to make any decisions right now. I had roughly six months or so before the child was born, and a hell of a lot could happen in those six months.

I had six months to come around to trusting her. To let the man—not the monster—take the reins.

She let you down, the monster purred. She made you realize you couldn’t trust anyone.Remember what she is: a means to an end. Remember who gave you that fucking scar.

This is not the same, the man argued back. Naomi is different. Do not make the same mistake!

I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried my best to calm the two warring sides within. But in the darkness, I didn’t know who to believe—who I’d resolve to be.

The monster.

Or the man.