Page 7 of BRATVA'S Killer Bride
The world outside can burn for all I care; right now, she's all that matters, my killer bride, my obsession, wrapped around me in this stolen haven where we've claimed each other body and soul.
Sienna
I’m trembling in the aftermath, my body still humming from the intensity of having Daniil inside me, his heat lingering on my skin as we cling to each other on the counter. My legs are wrapped around his waist, my nails still digging into his shoulders, and I can feel the sting of marks he’s left on my breasts, raw and claiming.
The cabin’s air is thick with the scent of us. Sweat and sex mingling with the piney musk of the forest outside. I’m dizzy, caught between the high of release and the weight of what we’ve just done. His breath is hot against my neck, slowing now, and I feel the steady thump of his heart against my chest, grounding me in this stolen moment. The torn remnants of my dress hang off me, exposing too much, but I don’t care. There’s no room for shame in this sanctuary, only the raw truth of what we are to each other now. I slide my hands down his back, feeling the slick sweat and the faint welts my nails left, and a strange pride surges in me, knowing I’ve marked him, too.
He pulls back slightly, his gray eyes searching mine, and there’s something new in them, a mix of possession and vulnerability that makes my chest ache. I want to stay here, lost in him, but the world beyond these walls creeps back in, a shadow we can’t ignore.
I slip off the counter, my legs shaky as I adjust my ruined dress, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. Daniil stepsback, pulling up his pants, and I catch the glint of his belt buckle in the dim light, a reminder of how quickly we unraveled.
“We need a plan,” I say, my voice hoarse but steady, and he nods, his jaw tightening as he shifts back into the predator I met in that blood-soaked hotel room. He grabs his T-shirt from the floor, tossing me a flannel from a nearby chair to cover the wreckage of my dress, and I slip it on, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him.
We move to the couch, the leather cool against my thighs, and he pulls a small laptop from a hidden compartment under the coffee table, his fingers flying across the keys. I watch him, the way his focus sharpens, and I’m struck by how he balances this ruthless efficiency with the raw passion he just poured into me.
“Your father’s likely already moving,” he says, not looking up, his voice low and clipped. “He’ll pin Andrey’s death on you to save his own skin. We need to get to your cousins first, let them know you didn’t have a choice.”
My stomach twists at the mention of my family, the Vasilievs who I hope would never have let this marriage happen if they’d known. I nod, leaning closer to see the screen where he’s pulling up encrypted messages and contacts I don’t recognize. The reality of our situation settles over me like a cold fog, but his presence, solid and unyielding, keeps me anchored.
I reach for his hand, my fingers lacing with his, and he pauses, his eyes meeting mine with a flicker of that earlier heat. “I’m not running forever,” I say, my voice firm despite the fear gnawing at my edges. “I want my father to pay for what he did.”
Daniil’s lips curve into a dark smile, and he squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sends a fresh wave of warmth through me.
“He will,” he promises, his voice a vow that feels as binding as the act we just shared.
The glow of the laptop screen bathes his face in a cold, bluish light, carving shadows into the sharp angles of his jaw as his fingers dance across the keys, pulling up more encrypted messages.
I’m perched on the edge of the couch, his flannel shirt loose around my shoulders, the scent of him clinging to the fabric like a second skin. My body’s still tingling from what we did, the memory of his hands, his mouth, his everything burned into me, but the weight of our reality presses harder now, a cold fist squeezing my chest.
My father’s out there, likely spinning a web of lies. The cabin’s walls feel like they’re closing in, the pine-scented air thick with the ghosts of my choices.
I killed a man tonight, and I don’t regret it, but the thought of my father pinning it on me, of him twisting the truth to save his own hide, makes my blood boil. Daniil’s promise to make him pay echoes in my mind, and I hold onto it, a lifeline in this storm.
I shift closer, my thigh brushing his, and he glances at me, his gray eyes softening for a split second before returning to the screen.
“Got a contact in the Vasiliev network,” he says, his voice low, steady, like he’s done this a hundred times. “Someone who can get a message to your cousins without tipping off your father. We’ll tell them you acted in self-defense. They’ll believe it; they know his reputation.”
I nod, my throat tight, because I know he’s right. My cousins, Maksim and his brothers, would’ve gutted Andrey themselves if they’d known what my father planned. They’re not soft, but they’re family, and family means something to them, even if myfather forgot that. I lean in, reading the screen over his shoulder, the coded words a blur to me but crystal clear to Daniil. His world is so different from mine, all shadows and secrets, yet I’m diving into it headfirst, trusting him because I have no one else.
His hand finds mine again, his fingers rough but warm, and I feel that spark flare up, the same heat that consumed us on the counter. I want to climb into his lap, to lose myself in him again and forget the danger closing in, but I force myself to focus.
“What if they don’t believe us?” I ask, my voice quieter than I mean it to be, betraying the fear I’m trying to bury. “What if my cousins think I’ve gone rogue, that I’m a liability?”
Daniil’s jaw clenches, and he turns to face me fully, his hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing over the spot where Andrey’s blood once dried.
“They won’t,” he says, his voice a vow. “I’ll make sure of it. And if they try to come for you, they’ll have to go through me first.” The words hit me hard, stirring something deep, a mix of gratitude and desire that makes my breath catch.
I lean into his touch, my lips grazing his palm, and the air between us thickens again, charged with that same electric pull. The laptop’s forgotten for a moment as he pulls me closer, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s softer this time, but no less intense, like he’s sealing a pact. My hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt, and I’m tempted to let it all go, to let him take me back to that place where nothing else exists. But a sharp ping from the laptop snaps us apart, a new message flashing on the screen. Daniil’s eyes darken as he reads it, his body tensing beside me.
“Your father’s already talking,” he says, his voice grim. “He’s claiming you killed Andrey in a jealous rage, that you’re unstable. We’ve got less time than I thought.” My heart lurches, but I steel myself, nodding as I meet his gaze. We’re in thistogether now, bound by blood and desire, and as the cabin creaks around us, I know I’m ready to fight, not just for survival, but for the future we’re carving out in this shadowed refuge.
Daniil
The basement’s cold air clings to my skin as I watch Sienna’s fingers linger on the pistol, her touch steady, like she’s done this before. It stirs something fierce in my chest. She’s no stranger to this world, and the sight of her standing in my armory, surrounded by steel and bullets, makes me want her all over again. But there’s no time to lose myself in her; the clock’s ticking, and her father’s lies are spreading faster than I can track.
I grab a burner phone from a locked box on the shelf, punching in a number I’ve used only once before, a direct line to someone close to Roman Vasiliev.
“It’s me,” I say when the line clicks, keeping my voice low, my eyes on Sienna as she tests the weight of a knife in her hand. “I need to meet with Roman and Maksim. Tomorrow, neutral ground. Sienna’s with me, and we’ve got the truth about Andrey Leskov. Her father’s spinning a story, and we need to set it straight, but I want reassurances.”
