Page 48 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

Then, Timur pushes me back against the bed, his body covering mine as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’ll remember this,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “every time you look at those bruises, you’ll remember who you belong to.”

My breath catches in my throat as he moves against me, his grip tightening on my hips, and I can feel the heat building between us, the tension reaching its breaking point.

I lose myself in him, in the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel. It’s overwhelming, consuming.

When it’s over, he lies beside me, pulling me against him, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist. I feel his breath against the back of my neck, steady and calming, but the weight of his presence makes me wonder…

What now?

Chapter Twenty-Two - Timur

Oleg sits across from me, the file in his hand, his expression more serious than usual. I can tell something’s off as soon as he walks in. He doesn’t waste time, which I appreciate. No small talk—just straight to the point.

“I’ve been doing some digging,” he starts, handing me the file. “It’s about Jennifer’s mother, Cristy Jewels.”

I narrow my eyes, taking the file from him and flipping it open. The papers inside are full of dates, police records, and reports, all leading to her death. I scan them quickly, piecing together the story, but I want to hear it from Oleg.

“She was killed by a Bratva member during a shootout,” Oleg continues, his voice heavy. “One of our own.”

I pause, my eyes flicking up to meet his. “Who?”

Oleg hesitates. I can see the shift in his posture, the slight tensing of his shoulders. He knows better than to withhold information from me. Finally, he says, “It was Kirill.”

The name hits me harder than I expect. My cousin, Anatoly. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, not since we sent him to Russia to avoid the charges. He was always reckless, always a fucking liability. Young, stupid, and quick to act without thinking. When the shootout happened, he was just a kid—barely twenty-one. The Bratva stepped in and took care of it, tucked him away in Russia, and that was that.

“Anatoly,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“It was considered minor at the time,” Oleg explains. “There were bigger things happening. Anatoly was shipped off, and the case was buried. Cristy Jewels… she was just collateral damage.”

I close the file, my fingers tightening around the edge. This was the real reason Jennifer hated me, why she ran. It wasn’t just fear or betrayal—her mother’s death was tied directly to the Bratva. To my family. To me, whether I knew it or not.

“Justice was never served for her,” Oleg adds, his voice quieter now. “Anatoly’s been living comfortably in Russia, and her family got nothing. Jennifer never got any closure.”

I slam the file shut, the sound echoing through the office. The anger inside me burns hotter. Anatoly had been protected. The Bratva had protected him, and in doing so, they had buried the truth, left Jennifer and her family with nothing. Now I understand why she wanted to run, why she betrayed me.

“She was just a kid when it happened,” Oleg continues. “Her mother was all she had. You can understand her decision now, right? Her decision to disassociate herself from you and the Bratva. She lost her mother because of us. Hell, I almost feel bad for her.”

Oleg’s words sink in, and for the first time, I feel the anger I’ve been holding on to start to fade. My resentment towards Jennifer for running, for betraying me—it’s all starting to make sense. I can’t say I would’ve done anything differently if I were in her place.

I stare at the closed file on my desk, my mind running through everything. Oleg’s right. Jennifer had every reason to hate me, every reason to run. The Bratva took away the only family she had, and I hadn’t even known.

“So what now?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

Oleg leans back, crossing his arms as he studies me. “That’s up to you. If you want my opinion? This changes things. You can’t just punish her like you’ve been planning to. She had her reasons, and they weren’t exactly wrong.”

I don’t respond right away, still processing everything. Oleg’s right—again. Punishing her feels… wrong. It feels beneath me now that I know the truth.

Still, it’s hard to let go of the anger completely. She left me. She betrayed me. Even if it was for a reason I can now understand, it doesn’t change the fact that she tried to cut me out of her life. And the possessiveness I feel toward her—it hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s mine, and I’m not going to let her go.

“Oleg,” I say after a moment, my voice steady. “Keep this quiet. No one else needs to know about Anatoly’s involvement. As far as the Bratva is concerned, Jennifer is still my wife, and nothing changes that.”

Oleg nods, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “And Jennifer?” he asks. “What are you going to do about her?”

I stand, walking over to the window, the city sprawling out below. A strange mix of emotions churns inside me—anger, guilt, maybe even regret. Above all, there’s a deep sense of responsibility. Jennifer had every reason to hate me, to hate the Bratva. Now that I know the truth, there’s no turning back.

“I’m going to make things right,” I finally say. “She’s still mine, and she needs to understand that.”

Oleg doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he agrees. He gives a slight nod before turning and leaving the office.

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