Page 134 of His Tesoro

My guys shoved him in the trunk of the car. I signaled for Ajello to stay with him while Romeo and Enzo turned toward the church door.

The muffled sound of a gunshot from inside rent the air, and my heart fucking stopped. I lurched towards the back door, any thoughts of my safety forgotten. My wife was in there and I would stop at nothing to get to her.

Romeo caught my arm before my leg fully gave out. Sweat prickled my forehead, but I kept pushing up the steps and through the door.

73

SOFIYA

The back door slammed open and a dozen guns raised to point at… my husband.

My heart skipped a beat.

He’s here. He’s here.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d been unconscious and drenched in blood. Seeing him now, standing tall even though his skin was ashy with pain, filled me with relief.

I hadn’t forgiven him yet—I couldn’t even be sure he was here to help me—but my heart didn’t care. The part of my soul that belonged to him longed to run into his arms.

He looked between the Pakhan’s prone, bleeding body and the gun in my hand. He cocked his head, and I knew he was asking if I had shot my father. I nodded, and softness filled his eyes. “Proud of you,” he mouthed, and that’s what did it.

I stumbled towards him. The moment I was close enough, he pulled me into his arms. I clung to him and I swore our hearts were beating in sync, as if to declare how much they had missed each other.

“The Albanians are dead,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “We’ve captured Arben.”

“Rustik Ivanov is dead.” Dimitri’s voice rang out, strong and authoritative. He stepped over our father’s body onto the church altar.

“Sofiya, Mila, come.” Dimitri’s command echoed around the hall.

Matteo’s arms tightened around me, but I gently pushed them away until he reluctantly released me. I moved towards Mila, my sister, my heart. Blood dripped from a shallow cut on her throat, but she was alive. We threw our arms around each other, trembling with relief.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

“No,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m okay.”

I pulled back and cupped her face with my hands. My vision darkened when I saw the shadow of a bruise on her cheek, peeking through her makeup.

“He hurt you, too, didn’t he?” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

I swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It will always matter to me.”

My face crumpled, and I took a slow breath in and out.

She tightened her arms around my waist. “Can you manage?” Her chin jutted at the three stairs leading up to the altar where Dimi waited for us.

I nodded. There was so much adrenaline running through my body I didn’t feel any pain.

She took as much of my weight as she could as we made our way to the new Pakhan. Dimi’s second-in-command, Maxim, joined us. Facing the sanctuary, he shouted, “Everyone kneel for the new Pakhan, Dimitri Ivanov.”

The Bratva soldiers knelt down, followed by my mother and Maxim. Mila and I locked eyes, unsure if we should kneel. In the end, I stayed standing, as did Matteo and his men, and Ronan and Leona, while my sister bent the knee. Mila was still part of the Bratva, but I was now a Mafia queen.

The room filled with shouts of the men my brother had somehow won over. “To the Brotherhood! To the Pakhan!”

“I vow to be worthy of the loyalty you have shown me,” Dimitri shouted in Russian. “To the Brotherhood!”

The men stood and cheered, and I was sure the vodka would flow tonight.

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