Page 151 of Sinful Bride

“I’m going to do you a favor.” Daphne gives Sofi a nod to pluck the unhinged woman up from the dirt. “Because after all is said and done, you’re still… Well, you still birthed me. At one point, a long time ago, you were my mother.”

The woman continues to struggle, her breath hitching, her lips trembling.

“You will go away for a very, very long time. Somewhere far away from me and my family. My children, Melanie’s children—they will never know you. You will never know them. Anyhow, you will be too focused on your mental health and therapy at whatever institute we find for you, so that should help heal the sting.”

Sofi’s brows lift and she looks to me. I shrug.

I’m pretty sure there’s a mental institute somewhere in Siberia.

Daphne looks like she wants to say something more, but she leaves it at that. It’s probably for the best. She turns to me and walks straight into my arms, burying her face in my chest as I hold her so close and tight, she won’t be able to pry from my embrace for a week.

Or ever, if I have any say about it.

Sofi pulls up Ophelia by the hair and drags the feral woman into the nearest SUV. Her cries for Daphne go ignored. I stroke my wife’s hair to cover her ears just so she doesn’t have to endure the sound any more than necessary.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” Daphne mutters once Ophelia is gone and silence finally settles over us. “But I’m not.”

I tip her chin up so she sees my face. So she can see, in my eyes, that I understand.

I hate it. But I do understand.

“I love you, Pasha. I always have. I always will.” She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out, her nerves trembling with it. “I couldn’t let them continue.”

“I know.” I press a warm kiss to her lips. “I’m still pretty fucking pissed, but I know. I love you, too.”

She smiles. She looks tired, so I squeeze her closer to me.

“Let’s go home.”

EPILOGUE: PASHA

ONE YEAR LATER

“Who gives this woman away?”

I glance at my siblings, who each nod. “No one, actually,” I say.

Murmurs stir in the crowd. Typical.

“We can’t give our mother away because she’s always been his. We’re just…” I look at Arlo as I guide Mama toward him. “We’re simply returning her.”

Mama dabs at her eyes before she turns to me and kisses my cheek. I make sure she successfully hands off her large bouquet to Sofiya, doing my best to tamper down the heat rising in my cheeks.

I’m the pakhan of our Family.

But I’m also a loving son dedicated to seeing his mother happy.

I’m about to return to my seat next to Daphne when Arlo suddenly reaches for my hand. He shakes it, and then he pulls me into a tight embrace.

I don’t…

I don’t know what to say. What to do.

I’ve never had a father figure demonstrate this kind of affection toward me.

Shit. I’ve never really had a father.

Since my brain is more or less shut down in the face of the new and unusual, I do as he does. I hug him back, against all odds and all reason and everything I’ve ever been taught.

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