Page 65 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

“Mine’s dead,” Ivan said.

Dima nodded and turned to me, looking as terrifying as anyone I’d ever seen. There was so much anger brewing in hiseyes, it seemed to overflow and coat him like bubbling lava. He fairly shimmered with rage. His eyes cut from mine to Rurik, who stirred in his seat.

“Gun,” I managed, but it wasn’t necessary to warn them that he was armed.

Ivan had Rurik’s weapon out of his hand in the blink of an eye and was about to bash him over the head again when Dima stopped him.

“No,” he said, voice hard as steel and colder than ice. “He’s going to suffer, and I want him to be awake for every second of it.”

Ivan whipped some zip ties out of his pocket, getting Rurik under control as Dima hurried over to where I was still wedged on the floor. He lifted me up and half settled, half dumped me on the bed, pulling out a knife as he loomed over me, still looking like the face of hell itself.

Grabbing my arm, he slid the knife between my wrists and sliced through the scratchy ropes. Not saying a word, he moved to free my ankles, placing a hand on one of them as his eyes traveled up my body. They settled on my throat, and he made a low, growling sound as he continued to search for more injuries.

“Where’s Zoey?” Ivan demanded, stalking desperately toward the adjoining room with his gun drawn. “If you believe in anything, Kuzmin, you better pray she’s not hurt.”

Ivan reached the door to the other motel room and smacked it open, easing his gun around the door frame as he looked inside. Even knowing he had lost, and with blood running down his face, Rurik laughed.

“Come on out, Daria,” he called.

I was stunned. Daria? Not as stunned as Dima and Ivan, who seemed to recognize the name, when it was completely new to me.

Ivan stepped aside as Zoey—Daria stepped in, clutching her hands together and keeping her eyes downcast.

“What the actual fuck?” Ivan asked.

“You two don’t remember my sister?” Rurik asked, still laughing like a damn clown.

I already hated him with the fire of a thousand burning suns, but even more when I saw the pain and confusion on Ivan’s face.

“There’s no way,” he said. “Your sister died eight years ago.”

“She was killed,” Rurik snapped, pointing at Dima. “Murdered. By you.”

Dima looked thunderstruck, shaking his head. “No one was supposed to be in that building when it blew. We checked.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. But you didn’t check well enough to see that someone was actually in there. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be, but they were, Fokin.”

“That bomb was in retaliation for burning down three of our buildings,” Ivan said in Dima’s defense when he was clearly too distraught by the painful memory to speak up for himself.

Dima may have been a killer, but he wasn’t a murderer, and he didn’t kill innocent people for no reason.

“She wasn’t killed, though,” I said. “She’s right there.”

“Our cousin was with her,” Rurik hissed. “Killed for the crime of skipping school and hanging out in one of our warehouses where they wouldn’t be found. Daria made it out,but Fyodor never did. Only fourteen years old. What?’ he asked at my look of dismay. “Didn’t know your husband was a child killer?”

I shook my head. “He’s not. It was an accident. It was—”

“Shut up,” Rurik howled.

Dima hit him hard enough to snap his neck back, and his head dropped to his chin, conscious but dazed enough to stay quiet for the moment. I looked at Zoey, no, Daria, to see if any of this was true. She refused to look up, her face an unreadable mask. She didn’t make a peep to confirm or deny, so I turned to Ivan. His glare was locked on her, his hands clenched into fists. He was pissed, but more than that, he was hurt. He could act like his flirting meant nothing, but he was starting to really like the traitorous woman. He’d been just as fooled as I was.

Rurik shook his head and laughed again, sounding drunk when he spoke. “I bet you did a background check on her, didn’t you?” he asked. “But you found nothing but the past I carefully constructed for her, you—”

Ivan strode forward and popped him in the mouth, giving him a look that dared him to speak again. Rurik finally seemed to gain some sense and shut the hell up. Dima had been silent at my side, looking tormented by the past. He turned to me and pulled me into his arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I should have asked if he was, but all I could do was hold on, awash with gratitude that this was over.

---