Page 69 of The Russian's Forced Bride
“You’re safe now,kroshka.” The rawness of his accent brushed through his sentence as he said, “It’s all over.”
My eyes looked over at Joaquin’s dead body. It was an ugly sight—nephew and uncle sprawled against each other, the bodies deformed, with flies and bugs already swarming Mateo.
I gulped hard, shaking my head.
“No, this is just the beginning,” I told Rafael as we pulled away from the hug, and he cupped my face, searching it thoroughly.
“I underestimated you,kroshka—”
“I know.”
All my life, I had been underestimated by everyone around me. I even always underestimated myself. Who would’ve thought all I needed to shoot a moving target perfectly was to channel my anger into the shot?
A weary smile crossed my lips as Rafael’s eyes fell to the little bump on my stomach, and his hands shakily reached out to it, the warmth of his hands seeping through the silky fabric of my dress. His eyes gleamed with a plethora of emotions—joy, relief, and gratitude.
“A baby, huh?”
I nodded. “Our baby.”
“Thank you,” he rasped, his eyes still stuck on the bump—until the door was kicked open forcefully once again, causing Rafael to be on full alert.
We both sighed in relief when Rafael’s right-hand, Maxim, came into view, panting and drenched in blood, his long, dark hair flowing over his shoulders.
His gun that had been pointed, ready for an attack, fell to his side as he now approached us with a sigh, looking around the room that resembled a surgical space, with all the weapons and blood everywhere.
“Good job, Maxim.”
Rafael acknowledged his right hand’s efforts with a nod, which Maxim reciprocated.
He offered me a smile. “You fought hard, ma’am,” Maxim said to me. “You did good.”
Newfound tears formed in my eyes at his words. It was probably my hormones making me all emotional at how I’d actually survived everything.
I fought hard and recklessly to survive, and even though I had made stupid decisions, I still made it.
My heart still ached for Mateo, and I wondered if things between us could’ve gone differently if he had just switched sides. It didn’t matter that he had lied to me. I just wanted to know that he cared for me in some way.
But now, I had to accept that he was dead and gone.
Rafael once again pulled me to his side as Maxim walked past us, crouching down and analyzing the bodies before him.
And then, in a low, malicious voice that made my insides tingle, Rafael ordered Maxim, pointing at Joaquin’s body, “I want that fucker’s head sliced clean, and when it’s off, wrap it nicely in a box and send it to his family.”
Maxim nodded, grabbing Joaquin’s knife that sat between his legs. “Yes, Boss.”
I shuddered as Maxim began to work, cutting open Joaquin’s head like he was a butcher cutting meat. And I tore my gaze away right as Rafael picked me up in one swoop, my legs dangling as he held me in his arms, limping out of the room.
I leaned my head against his chest, feeling weariness course through my bones.
“You can rest now,kroshka,” he told me, his voice filled with an unmistakable warmth that made me sigh in contentment.
“Thank you,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “And I love you.”
His eyes briefly fell to mine as they began to droop. I could see surprise swarming in them before they softened—almost unrecognizable by the emotions in them. I was afraid he wouldn’t say it back, afraid that I was the only one who truly loved him. But then, amidst the sound of skin being split open in the room, he confessed the words right back to me.
“I love you, too, Arlette Kamarov…. I’ve always loved you.”
The world before me faded away right as he said those words, but I wasn’t afraid of the darkness.
