Page 6 of Forced Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva

When his gaze finally lifts and meets mine, something flickers across his face—not shock, not anger. Recognition.

Then fear.

“You….” His voice is a rasp, wet and weak. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

I crouch beside the wreck, tilt my head. “That makes two of us.”

He tries to push himself upright but only groans, the weight of the crushed frame pressing down on his leg. I watch him struggle. I want him to feel it. I want the realization to crawl through him bone by bone—that I have taken everything from him, that every second he’s breathing now is a mercy I can revoke.

“I warned you,” I say, calm. Cold. “Ten years ago. I told you if anything happened to him—if you so much as touched my brother—I’d come for you.”

Carter’s eyes narrow, a smear of blood running into one. “Maxim was reckless. He knew the risks.”

“No,” I say, leaning closer. “He knew you were a liar.”

The barrel of the gun rests against his forehead now. He doesn’t move. He knows I won’t miss.

I could do it. Right here. One pull of the trigger, and it’s over. I’d be done. Free.

Death is too easy. It’s an exit. An ending. Richard Carter does not deserve endings.

He deserves to live knowing the power he once clutched is gone. That his name means nothing. That his empire is dust and his bloodline—

The phone buzzes.

It’s lying just a few feet from the wreck, screen cracked but still working. I glance at it.

Incoming Call: Alina.

My eyes don’t move for a long moment. The name pulses once, then again.

Alina Carter.

I remember her. Not the girl in designer gowns and perfect makeup. The girl behind the glass. The one who always stood just outside the world she was born into, watching it with quiet defiance and too much loneliness in her eyes.

She was barely eighteen then. All sharp green stares and soft silences. Her father’s shadow. Untouchable.

Now she’s calling. Again. Five missed calls light the cracked screen as the ringing dies and starts again.

I pick it up. Watch it ring, then let it stop.

She tries again. Persistent.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I could answer. Speak her name. Let her know everything’s changed. Let her hear what her father sounds like at the end.

But I don’t.

Instead, I tuck the phone into my coat. She doesn’t need to hear this. Not yet.

Carter groans beside me. “Don’t touch her,” he rasps.

I look down at him, brows raised. “You think you get to tell me what to do now?”

His fingers curl into the gravel. “She’s not part of this. She doesn’t know anything.”

“That’s the problem,” I murmur. “She should, but you’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

His chest rises sharply, pain flashing across his face. “She’s just a girl—”

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