Page 52 of Owned By The Bratva King

She studies Roman’s features for a moment, then nods. “Of course. The couch folds out, and there are blankets in the closet. I appreciate the company; dying people are not usually anyone’s companion of choice, but you, Quinn,” she jabs a finger at me, “you have never shied away. Not inviting me to the wedding was rude, but I forgive you.”

Roman chuckles warmly and passes Carrie her teacup. “I’ll leave you to rest and say my goodbyes to my wife.”

He leads me out of the room and into the corridor. I search his face for reassurances I know he won’t give.

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask. “You told me you feared how strong your feelings are for me. What feelings, exactly? Because you seem content to bind me to you, only to abandon me here and run away to deal with something so bad that you won’t even tell me what it is?”

Roman looks momentarily furious, but then a flash of pure desperation crosses his face, and he grabs me, pulling me close.

“I love you,” he whispers, cradling my head. “God help me. I didn’t think it was possible, but I do. If I see another dawn, it will be the first day of the life I’ll share with you, and I swear, rusalka, I’ll let it all go, the rough and the smooth.”

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me, a deep, soulful kiss that springs from something he’s never had before—hope. Hope for more, for better. Hope that I will let him into my heart.

Roman breaks away and tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. “It was and always will be me who is bound to you, Quinn. I’m not in control. You had me on my knees from the moment I met you, and I’m not even fucking sorry. If it all ends tonight, it will have been worth it.”

He kisses my forehead, and the sweetness of the gesture makes me want to cry.

He turns on his heel and walks away. I take a step to follow, and he stops, looking over his shoulder at me.

“Stay here, moya zhena.” His silver eyes hold mine. “Promise me.”

It seems impossible to refuse; the fear in his face is too real.

“Okay. I promise.”

40

Roman

The drive back feels longer than the drive out did. Quinn will be safe in the sticks, but I can’t shake the dread that clings to me.

Every word I said before I left was true, but I can’t dwell on that now, or I’ll lose my shit and turn the car around.

My wife will be fine. Gotta focus on the here and now.

Leon and Viktor are at the house, along with several men I know to be loyal and, crucially, excellent marksmen. When I arrive, Leon lets me in and immediately locks the door.

“Each man has two guns and a knife, with more available in the armory,” he says, handing me a pistol. “There’s a shooter at every upstairs window, and the spots are lit on all sides. Your security camera feed goes to me, and I’ll coordinate via radio. The back doors are covered, and there’s a small team watching your downtown office, just in case.”

I dry-fire the unloaded gun a few times and perform a quick function check. “I take it you’ve seen no action so far?”

“Nothing as yet. But there’s plenty of time.”

“You’ve briefed them?” I ask.

Leon hands me some ammo. “Yep. Your orders are clear—take out anyone and everyone, but Silvio Vercotti is to be captured, not killed.”

I smile and snap the barrel closed. “Okay, tovarisch. Let’s take up our positions and settle in. It could be a long night.”

41

Quinn

It comes out of nowhere as I am making up the fold-out bed.

“That man is all in,” Carrie says.

My knees buckle in shock as I whip my head around to stare at her. “What? How can you possibly know that?”

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