Page 1 of Forced Virgin Bride of the Bratva
Prologue - Maxim
The room is dark enough that the walls feel farther away than they are, like the shadows are waiting to crawl in. I sit at the far end of the table, arms crossed over my chest, the leather of my jacket creaking as I shift. Rain taps a soft rhythm against the tall windows behind us. It’s the only thing that moves.
Dominik sits at the head, fingers laced, watching. His silence is louder than the storm outside. My older brother, Andrei, on my left, leans back like he’s relaxed, but I see the tension in his jaw. He’s waiting for something to break.
Across from us, the Mexicans have brought their best suits and worst liars. Santiago—Tiago, now that he’s trying to reinvent himself—keeps his voice smooth, every word dipped in oil. His eyes flicker, though. Not fast enough to betray him, but I catch the cracks. He’s losing ground. Cartel soldiers are bleeding in the streets, their routes are worthless, their loyalty worth even less. The DEA’s been breathing down their necks, and rival gangs are cutting in without mercy.
This meeting isn’t a gesture of goodwill. It’s survival.
He talks about cooperation. “Mutual benefit,” he says. “A shared future.” I don’t speak, don’t even blink. I watch him the way I’d watch a snake move across a path: slow, coiled, dangerous in all the wrong ways. Every man at this table remembers what his father did. Every man remembers Matías Ortega.
I remember best.
Years ago, I did everything I could to stop him, and I won. I made sure Matías saw my face again before I put him in the ground: but ghosts don’t stay buried forever.
Now his son sits across from me, legs crossed like he belongs here, like he hasn’t inherited the weight of his father’s sins. He hasn’t looked at me once. Not directly, but he doesn’t need to. Every word he says is a dance around the elephant in the room.
I am the elephant.
Dominik shifts slightly, elbow braced on the armrest, his thumb dragging slow along his jaw. I know that look. He’s bored. Ready to cut through the bullshit. Tiago’s still talking when Dominik interrupts with a single question: “What are you offering?”
Tiago doesn’t flinch. He’s been coached, no doubt. There’s a moment—barely a breath—where his chest stills. Then he speaks. “Unity, sealed by blood. A permanent alliance.”
The words slide into place like a knife slipping between ribs.
Someone shifts in their seat down the table. I hear Platon’s sharp inhale. My brother doesn’t move, but I feel the change in him. The air shifts.
Tiago says it like it’s nothing. Like he isn’t throwing a girl’s life on the table like a poker chip.
“A marriage,” he says, his tone pleasant. “To tie our families together. We offer you my sister.”
The room erupts.
Russian spills from every corner. Voices snap like gunfire, chairs scrape against marble. Someone—maybe Viktor—spits a curse so hard it echoes. I don’t move. I sit still and let it wash over me.
Because I knew this was coming.
There’s only one unmarried man at this table with enough standing to be considered. One man who could be used this waywithout it being seen as a weakness. It isn’t Dominik. It isn’t Andrei.
It’s me.
My eyes meet Tiago’s across the storm. His smile flickers for a fraction of a second. I could kill him for it.
Dominik raises a hand, and the chaos cuts off mid-snarl. The silence after is sharper than anything they were shouting.
He looks at me. Doesn’t say my name. Doesn’t need to. Then he speaks, quiet but firm.
“He’ll meet her once. Then decide.”
That’s all.
The meeting starts to dissolve after that. Tiago nods politely, as if he didn’t just offer up his sister like a blood sacrifice. I stand slowly, letting the ache in my shoulder stretch out. Old scar tissue pulls. A souvenir from another life.
Andrei claps a hand to my back as we head for the elevators. I shrug it off.
I don’t need his comfort.
Outside the elevator, Tiago’s deputy steps out of the shadows. Mateo. Younger, leaner, with a look that says he still thinks some things in this world can be saved. I don’t bother pretending to like him. He speaks, quiet and measured.
