Page 100 of Forced Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva

The room feels suspended, caught between breaths. The storm outside has softened now into something quieter, almost forgiving. Her fingers trail faint circles across my chest, slow and aimless, like she’s not even aware she’s doing it.

Neither of us speaks, but the silence isn’t hollow. It’s thick—heavy with everything we can’t say yet. Everything we’re afraid to say.

The realization of what just happened sits between us, breathing its own life into the shadows. It wasn’t just lust. Wasn’t just adrenaline or fear.

It was something else. Something I don’t have the name for.

I turn my head toward her, and in the low golden lamplight, I can see the faint smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes. The tension that hasn’t quite left her shoulders. She looks fragile in the way only survivors do—broken in places no one can see but still standing anyway.

My gaze softens without my permission.

I’m so tired. Bone-deep, soul-deep tired, but I can’t look away from her.

Her fingers slow over my chest. I feel her hesitation—the way her breathing changes, the way her body tenses just slightly like she’s bracing herself.

Then she speaks. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she says.

Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the words land like a punch to the gut. Gentle. Undeniable. Shattering.

For a long moment, I can’t find it in me to answer.

The instinct to push her away rises out of old habits. I’ve built my life around being alone. Around needing no one. Trusting no one. Even when I took her, when I claimed her, it was still through the lens of control—mine, always mine. Not partnership. Not vulnerability.

Now her hand is small and strong against my chest. Her presence a weight I didn’t realize I needed to carry.

I close my hand around hers, tight.

Grounded.

She doesn’t pull away.

Somewhere down the hall, a door closes quietly. The sound is distant, but it ripples through the stillness like a ghost brushing past.

Maxim.

His presence lingers.

There are questions that need answers. Wounds that need stitching deeper than the ones across my skin. Battles still to be fought—inside these walls and outside them.

There’s blood that needs to be avenged. Territory that needs to be reclaimed. Loyalties to be tested.

A war coming that will make tonight look like a minor skirmish.

For tonight, for this small, precious sliver of stolen time, I let her stay.

Her breathing evens out, her body settling closer against mine, and my hand doesn’t loosen its grip on hers.

The rain tapers off outside, the world spins a little slower.

For once, the dark doesn’t feel so empty.

Epilogue - Alina

The estate at dusk looks nothing like the place I first stumbled into a year ago.

Warm lights glow in every window, throwing soft amber shapes onto the freshly trimmed lawns and winding stone paths. The gardens bloom again, the roses wild and heavy with color, climbing the trellises like they were never broken, never trampled. In the distance, I hear faint laughter from the guards posted at the front gates—relaxed, unguarded in a way that would’ve been unthinkable once.

The place feels lived in now. Alive. A sanctuary, not a fortress.

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