Page 51 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
Chivalry could go to hell. An assassin, however chivalrous, was still an assassin.
I stormed into the house, and Federico followed. I headed straight to the bar, poured myself a double scotch, and downed it before turning to face him.
“You’re a fucking assassin, aren’t you?” I demanded.
His eyebrows nearly hit the roof, and to see him act so surprised only angered me further. I slammed the glass down and walked over to him, staring up right into his towering eyes.
“Don’t you dare act like I’m the one who lost her mind. “You owe me the truth, Federico,” I said, voice rising. “I’ve watched you bleed, lie,kill—and every time I asked, you deflected. So stop. Stop protecting me or sparing me or whatever delusion you’re operating under and just tell me the truth. Don’t you dare try to lie about this. I’m your WIFE!”
He flinched, as if I’d slapped him across the face. Then, he met my glare with his forest green eyes—eyes I used to lose myself in. Then he said it. Calmly. Cleanly. Like he wasn’t detonating my entire world.
“I’m Bratva.”
The words didn’t register at first. Not fully. I just stared.
“You’re what?”
“Bratva,” he repeated, stepping closer. “It means brotherhood. But not the kind you’re thinking. I’m part of a family that runs one of the most powerful criminal syndicates in the world. Old blood. Old rules. Old money. What you saw tonight is a part of who we have always been.”
I took a step back. “A syndicate.”
He nodded, and his face softened. “We control arms and drug ammunition. Run casinos and territories. Have internal intelligence. What the government can’t handle, we do. What they want done quietly—they come to us.”
I swallowed hard, the air thinning around me. “You’re a criminal. You kill people.”
“When they come for what’s mine? Yes.”
“I married a Bratva thug,” I whispered. “I married into themob.”
“I’m not a thug, I’m an enforcer,” he said. “I’m at the top. My name carries weight across oceans. I don’t take orders, Autumn—I—” His voice faltered, and he looked at me like every word was a stab in his chest. “I give them.”
Something snapped in my chest.
My vision tunneled. My lungs stopped working right. My hands started to shake—fingers curling into my sides because I couldn’t physically control them anymore.
The air felt thick. The room felt small. My skin felt tight.
“I—” I tried to speak but couldn’t catch my breath. My throat closed, like someone was squeezing it shut from the inside.
Heat rushed to my face. I staggered back a step, clutching the edge of the console table behind me. It crashed to the floor. My knees gave way. I dropped to the floor.
“Autumn?” His voice changed instantly as he rushed over. Sharper. Softer. A thread of alarm under the calm. “Look at me. Just breathe.”
But I couldn’t.
My chest rose in shallow gasps. My ears were ringing. My body was shutting down.
I’m having a panic attack,I thought dimly. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Chapter 13 - Federico
I’d seen men gutted alive. Shot between the eyes. I’d dragged my brother’s bleeding body through fire once and still held my shit together.
But nothing—nothing—had ever unstrung me like watching Autumn panic right in front of me.
It started with the silence. Then the way those lively blue eyes lost focus. The color drained from her face so fast I thought she’d faint. Her breathing went shallow, erratic. Her hands trembled, one clutching the edge of the console like it was the only thing holding her up.
She gasped for air before sinking to the couch as if the strength had been knocked out of her.
