Page 103 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

A cough startles me, and I jump back. We break apart, flushed and breathless.

Alina stands at the end of the hall, eyebrows raised, expression caught between amusement and exasperation.

“Well, this seems to be a theme,” she says, dry as ever. “Glad to see married life’s off to arespectablestart.”

Kolya just grins, unbothered.

I groan, hiding my face in his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Alina adds with a wink as she turns. “I’ll make sure the champagne keeps flowing. Just try not to scandalize the whole guest list before dessert.”

Then she’s gone.

Kolya chuckles low in his chest. “I like her.”

I tug him close again, lips brushing his. “Good. Because she’s family now.”

We don’t go back to the party right away.

Kolya leans against the wall beside me, his hand brushing mine, fingers tangled in the silk of my gown like he doesn’t want to stop touching me, even for a second. The hallway is quiet again, the echo of Alina’s footsteps fading into music and laughter somewhere down the corridor.

For a while, we just breathe. The noise of the world fades. The weight of what this night means begins to settle.

I glance at him—at the sharpness of his jaw, the faint red mark on his throat where my mouth left a claim, the ghost of a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“What now?” I ask softly, unsure if I mean tonight or the rest of our lives.

He looks at me like there’s no other question worth answering. “Now we rule.”

I laugh once, too loudly, and he pulls me into him again, burying his face in my neck like he can’t get close enough. I melt into him, the silk of my dress crushed between us, his warmth grounding me like it always does.

His mouth finds my ear. “You still think you’re the same girl who wanted to escape?”

“No,” I breathe. “She’s long gone.”

Kolya’s fingers tilt my chin up until our eyes meet. “Good. Because I didn’t fall in love with the girl who ran. I fell in love with the woman who stayed.”

I want to cry at that, but I don’t. I just kiss him instead—slow and deep and final in all the best ways. A kiss that sayswe made it.That the worst is behind us. That everything else, no matter how dark, we’ll face together.

“Come on,” I whisper when we part. “Let’s go back.”

“To the party?”

“Mmm. We should show our faces, shouldn’t we?”

His eyes light with something fierce, something full of hunger and peace all at once. Without a word, he leads me there.

Hand in hand.

The halls are quiet as we walk, the soft sound of my heels against polished stone echoing beneath our steps. Kolya doesn’t rush. He never does. His presence beside me is steady, certain, like gravity itself has chosen to follow his lead.

As we pass through the foyer, a few lingering guests offer nods, half curious, half awed. No one stops us. No one dares.

I lean into him, resting my head briefly against his shoulder. “They’re all watching,” I murmur.

“Let them,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It should sound like a threat, and maybe it is—but it settles in me like a promise. Fierce. Unshakeable. His love may be brutal, but it’s honest.

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