Page 25 of Beautiful Scar

“You’ve told me.”

“And I’ll keep saying it. I know you never wanted a wife or kids. I know this wasn’t how you saw your life going. But this sacrifice is going to help make the Brotherhood stronger. We owe you, Tigran.”

I nod sharply at him and glance at Sona. For once, she’s got nothing to say, only a thoughtful frown on her face.

Sacrifice. Ah, hell. When I walked into that chapel, that’s exactly what I was thinking.

How it was like putting my neck up on the altar and waiting for the priest to chop off my skull.

But now that Dasha’s in my house, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore.

The plane ride was strange. When she looked a little pale, I forced her to eat. Not because it made my life easier—even though it was better to let her think that—but because I was worried about her.

Deeply, obsessively worried.

Then there was the landing. I could tell she was about to panic, and I just acted. I grabbed her smooth little hand and held it.

I comforted her for no other reason than I wanted to.

Like some fucking idiot.

All my life I’ve drifted through relationships. Women come, they go, they never stick around because they mean nothing to me. I’ve never wanted children, a marriage, any of that white picket fence bullshit.

Life is fundamentally meaningless.

Except now I have Dasha, and I can’t stop the little voice in my head from thinking about her.

It’s like some stupid, protective switch got thrown, and now I’m a mess.

We finish the meeting with more logistical discussions. Mostly Sona runs things, but I get more involved when we circle back around to the Irish.

Arsen and Sona are both concerned, but they don’t see the threat as acutely as I do.

I’m boots on the ground. My world’s the streets, and my life is the soldiers. What they’re hearing is what I’m hearing, and there are whispers all over Baltimore.

The McGraths are going to make a move. It’s only a matter of time.

As the meeting breaks up, I step into the hall, eager to get back home. I want to check and make sure that Dasha’s okay. I called Vito earlier, and he assured me that the guards are keeping an eye on her and that she hasn’t stepped foot out of her rooms.

“Tigran, just a second.” Aunt Sona hurries to catch up to me. I jab at the elevator call button, hoping to make it come faster. Damn machines never work when I really need them.

No luck. She gives me an aggrieved look but doesn’t comment on my escape attempt.

“What can I do for you?” I ask her, not hiding my reluctance.

“I know I’m giving you a hard time, but Arsen’s right.” Sona’s lips press together. “Your marriage to Dasha Zeitsev is important.”

I grunt in reply. That’s about the nicest thing Sona’s said to me in months. “I’m aware you think I’m going to fuck it up, but I’ll do my duty. I always have.”

“I know that.” She steps into the elevator when the doors open. I follow her inside, and we ride down together. “There’s a big meeting of the Brotherhood in a few days. I want you to bring her.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I know she’s shy. I understand that she’s been something of a recluse?—”

“That’s an understatement. The girl fainted during our wedding. She hasn’t been outside of her father’s house in twelve years.”

Sona’s frown tightens. I swear, that woman’s expression is locked in that annoyed glare. “Regardless, she needs to be seen. Everyone in the Brotherhood leadership will feel better about the alliance if they realize Dasha’s just a person instead of the avatar of the evil Russians. Do you understand?”

---