Page 44 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

The gunshot cracks through the room like thunder, but the pain I expect doesn't come. Instead, I watch in shock as Viktor stumbles forward, red blooming across his expensive white shirt. He turns, disbelief written across his features, to face Natalia.

My wife stands with my dropped gun in her hands, her aim unwavering despite the slight tremor in her fingers. Smoke curlsfrom the barrel as she stares down her uncle, her face a mask of determination and grief.

"That's for my father," she says softly, her voice steady despite the tears tracking down her cheeks.

Viktor slumps to the ground, still conscious but severely wounded. Blood seeps through his fingers where he clutches his chest. His eyes find Natalia's, and something passes between them—a lifetime of love and betrayal crystallized in a single moment.

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Natalia steps forward, the gun still pointed at her uncle's prone form. Her hands shake, but her aim doesn't waver.

“You saved me,” I say, in awe and full of love for my wife. “Oh, kitten, you saved me.”

Sometimes love means pulling a trigger. Sometimes it means watching your past burn so your future can rise from the ashes.

And sometimes, like tonight, it means holding each other up as you walk away from the carnage, knowing that whatever comes next, you'll face it together.

For better or worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.

We meant every word.

24

Natalia

My hands won't stop trembling. The gun feels impossibly heavy, still warm from the shot that just changed everything. The acrid smell of gunpowder mingles with the metallic tang of blood—my uncle's blood—as Viktor lies before me on the polished marble floor.

I can't process what I've just done. The man who was as close to me as my father was, now bleeding out because of me. My vision blurs with tears as memories crash over me—summer barbecues, Christmas mornings, family vacations. All tainted now by the truth of who he really is.

Slowly, I cross the space between us, my heels clicking against the marble with each step. Viktor's eyes find mine, and the connection that's always been there, the bond between uncle and niece, crackles with painful intensity.

"I resented my father for so long because of the mafia," I whisper, my voice shaking. "But all this time, it was you I should have hated." The words taste like ash in my mouth.

Viktor's gaze softens, a faint smile tugging at his bloodied lips. Despite everything—the betrayal, the lies, the violence—I see a flash of the uncle I loved in that smile. My heart breaks all over again.

"But despite everything, I still love you." The confession tears itself from my throat. "It kills me to know that neither you nor my father will ever hold my twins, never get to see them grow up."

His smile falters, pain and something like regret flickering across his features. But before either of us can say more, I feel Luka's presence behind me, solid and reassuring. His hands are gentle as he takes the gun from my trembling fingers.

"That's enough, Natalia," he says quietly, his voice a warm rumble that helps ground me in reality. "You did what you had to, but any more will get us both arrested."

The wail of approaching sirens grows louder, and suddenly the room is flooded with tactical units, their weapons trained on Viktor as they secure the scene. I watch, oddly detached, as they handcuff my uncle. The man who was once the center of our family, now rendered helpless on his own marble floor.

The next few hours pass in a blur of questioning and statements. I repeat my story over and over—how Viktor lured me here, how Luka came to rescue me, how I grabbed the gun in self-defense when Viktor was about to shoot my husband. The truth, mostly, just carefully edited to protect Luka's involvement.

Finally, we're cleared to leave. The drive home is silent, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars as Luka navigates the empty streets. My mind keeps replaying the moment I pulled the trigger, the look in Viktor's eyes as he realized his own niece had shot him.

When we arrive at our house, I turn to Luka, the question that's been burning in my mind finally spilling out. "Why didn't they arrest you?"

A faint smile plays at his lips. "I had my men pull out before the police arrived. As far as the authorities are concerned, I'm just an investor who risked his life to save his wife."

Relief floods through me, and I throw my arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent—sandalwood and gunpowder and something uniquely him. His warmth seeps into me, chasing away the chill that's been lingering in my bones since I pulled that trigger.

"And how did you leak all that information about Viktor?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper against his chest.

Luka's chuckle rumbles through me as he holds me closer. "It was your mother's doing. After I explained everything, she opened the safe, found the proof, and leaked it to the press. She was shocked but knew what needed to be done."

My heart swells with a mix of relief and gratitude. Even after everything, my mother came through when it mattered most. "I'm glad she was willing to help."

Luka's arms tighten around me possessively. "Our children are safe, and that's all that matters now. Viktor is gone, and with him, any reason for me to stay in the mafia. I'm done, Natalia."

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