Page 81 of Used Bratva Bride

“You’ve been sitting in here for hours,” he says, dropping into the chair across from me. “That’s never a good sign.”

I lean back, letting my eyes drift to the ceiling for a brief moment before looking at him. “I’m fucking furious.”

“I figured.”

“Not just at Denis,” I admit, the words gritted through my teeth. “At myself.”

Ivan frowns slightly but doesn’t interrupt.

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to say it. “I should have seen it, Ivan. Denis was in my home, in my wife’s presence, and I let it happen.”

Ivan lets out a slow breath, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah,” he says finally, voice quieter. “That part is fucked.”

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “No shit.”

Silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words.

Then Ivan speaks again, softer this time. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

My fingers tighten around my own glass. I don’t need to ask what he means.

He’s talking about him. My father.

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I stare into my drink, watching the liquid shift under the dim light of my office. “It feels the same,” I say finally, voice low. “That fucking… disgusting feeling. The betrayal. The rage. The knowing that someone close to me was planning my downfall the entire time.”

Ivan nods slowly, not pushing, just letting me speak.

“I was sixteen when it happened with my father,” I continue, more to myself than to him. “Denis was there, you know. At the execution.” I scoff, shaking my head. “He stood there watching, looking just as disgusted as the rest of us. Now look at him.”

Ivan taps a finger against the rim of his glass. “Some people pretend so well they start believing their own lies.”

I lift my gaze to meet his, my voice cold. “Denis is going to die for this.”

Ivan smirks faintly, raising his glass. “Oh, I never doubted that.”

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. The rage is still there, a living thing inside me, but beneath it is something else—something I hate acknowledging.

It hurts. I trusted Denis. Not fully, not blindly, but enough to allow him near. Enough to share drinks, to exchange words that weren’t laced with suspicion.

Now, all of that is ash. Just like it was with my father. Just like it will be with anyone who dares betray me again.

I straighten, setting my glass down with a click against the wood. “Find him,” I tell Ivan. “No delays. No fuckups. I want him alive, but barely.”

Ivan grins, standing with a stretch. “With pleasure.”

As he turns to leave, I exhale again, rolling my shoulders, forcing the tension from them.

No more doubts. No more distractions. Denis will pay for what he’s done.

As Ivan strides out of the office, his usual confidence evident in the way he carries himself, I watch him go, my jaw tightening. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with the weight of my thoughts. The silence of my office stretches around me, but inside, I’m anything but calm.

Denis. That snake. I want to put a bullet between his eyes myself, but not yet. He doesn’t get to die quickly—not after what he’s done.

I reach for my glass again, but before I can take another drink, my phone buzzes against the desk. The screen flashes with a number from my estate. A call from home.

Frowning, I pick up. “What is it?”

Silence, followed by hesitant breathing. Then, “Sir, we have a problem.”

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