Page 4 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

The barrel of my gun was still smoking when I lowered my hand and looked at the faces of my men, their breaths visible in the chill air. “This is the Wolkov Bratva. Here, we are our brothers’ keepers. We are a brotherhood, and as such, no one is allowed to kill anyone,” I began, my voice steady but authoritative. “The only enemy is he who is against us. That is one of the rules. Break it, and I can assure you that you will meet a fate far worse than this man’s.”

A heavy silence fell amongst the men as they exchanged hidden glances, but I knew they’d gotten the message loud and clear.

“Clean this up,” I said to Simon, dragging on my cigar.

He nodded and signaled to a couple of men while I walked back to my car. Around me, the others returned to loading the ship, keeping their eyes downcast as my boots crunched through the snow.

Soon, not even Denis’ blood would remain. The man would vanish without a trace, just as he deserved.

Chapter 3 – Sienna

Is it always this cold in Russia? I wondered, gritting my teeth so they’d stop gnashing.

Even with my thick coat on, I could still feel the harshness of the winter cold seeping into my bones. The car windows were wound up, and I was seated in the backseat, eyes fixed on the snow-covered horizon as I pulled up the collar of my coat to shield my neck from the chills.

Dad stole a glance at me from the driver’s seat. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, and I saw the smile playing on his lips.

He thought it was funny, watching me shiver. Classic! My brows furrowed, but I remained silent, too numb to speak. The cold was seriously doing a number on me.

“You okay back there?” he asked, gently steering the car down a slope.

I managed to nod.

Mom turned around from the front passenger seat and looked at me. “You big baby,” she teased. “You’ll be fine.”

I exhaled sharply, and I could almost imagine my breath misting in the air like a wispy cloud.

Russia wasn’t bad at all, except for the biting cold that seemed to pierce through my bones, threatening to inflict me with pneumonia or hypothermia.

It was a beautiful place, much better than I had expected. The frosty landscape, dotted with snow-covered trees and ancient architecture, was fascinating.

A hearty chuckle escaped my lips as I spotted a snowman that looked exactly like Olaf, the adorable cartoon character from Frozen. Its charcoal eyes and carrot nose were placed with perfection, and its rounded body was incredibly accurate. It was as if Olaf had somehow sprung to life in this part of St. Petersburg.

I smiled, admiring the skills of whoever had molded that figure. I was impressed.

“We’re here,” Dad said as he turned into the driveway, bringing the car to a stop beside a wooden fence.

He killed the engine, and we all stepped out of the vehicle. The neighborhood was calm and quiet yet also beautiful with its serene atmosphere.

I immediately buried my gloved hands into my coat pockets as the wind whistled in my ears, forcing me to squint against the icy blast that seemed to target my eyes.

Mom and I rushed to the front door while Dad was busy with the luggage, and I tightened my shoulders against the chill, anticipating the warmth inside the house.

“A little help here, please,” he said, shutting the trunk of the car.

I was already taking cover by the porch, and there was no way in hell I would be going back out there.

Mom, being the loving wife that she was, rushed back to help.

Aww. How adorable!

That was sarcastic, by the way.

The door squeaked open, and I turned in its direction.

A beautiful girl was standing at the entrance. She was tall and lanky, with an amazing pair of blue eyes. Her hair was dyed purple, which complemented the color of her coat.

She smiled at me and gestured back into the house. “They’re here!” she announced and walked up to me. “Hi, I’m Sasha.” She hugged me.

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