Page 5 of BRATVA'S Killer Bride
When the doors open, I’m hit with a wave of modern luxury, all dark wood and clean lines. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city like a painting. His penthouse smells of pine and something faintly spicy, like him, and I’m suddenly aware of how small I feel in this vast space. How exposed to him I am.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he says, nodding toward a hallway as he sets my suitcase down. “The kitchen is there,” he adds, pointing through to the open plan living space. “I need to make some calls, make sure no one’s on our trail yet.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, a reminder that we’re not safe, not really.
Daniil
The city’s glitter sprawls out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I don’t see it. My mind’s on Sienna. Her suitcase sits by the leather couch, a stark reminder of the life she’s left behind, and I’m already calculating our next move. Andrey’s dead, piled up with his guards in that gaudy suite, and we’ve got a narrow window before his allies start sniffing around.
Worse, her father’s the real snake here. Selling her to that bastard without a whisper to the Vasilievs, who’d have torn the deal apart if they’d known. They’re not saints, her cousins, but they’ve got a code, and Sienna’s blood. They don’t trade their own like cattle. Her old man, though? He’s a different breed, and I’m betting he’ll be the first to come hunting, ready to bury his betrayal under her corpse if it keeps his secrets safe.
I pull out my phone when it vibrates, thumbing through the encrypted message. “All clean. New carpet. You owe me.” The phone vibrates again, this time with his fee. I send it without question. He is the best in the business and I don’t want to jeopardize our business relationship over the cost of a hotel carpet.
My eyes flicking to Sienna as she moves gracefully around the kitchen. It’s clear she carries the weight of what she’s done. I know it’s not just Andrey’s death clinging to her. It’s her father’s betrayal, the Vasilievs’ ignorance, the whole damn world she thought she knew crumbling under her feet. I want to go to her,to pull her against me and promise I’ll burn it all down to keep her safe, but I’ve got to stay sharp, keep us one step ahead.
The city’s a maze of lights below. Indifferent to the storm we’ve kicked up, and I move to the bar, pouring a finger of whiskey into a glass I don’t drink from. It’s just something to hold, to ground me while my mind races. Andrey’s crew won’t stay quiet long; they’re loyal to his money, not his corpse, and they’ll want answers, maybe blood, but mostly someone to work for.
Sienna’s father’s the bigger threat, though. A man desperate enough to barter his daughter to a monster like Andrey, likely to cover his own debts or sins. I know his type, spineless but cunning, and he’ll be scrambling now, probably already spinning lies to point fingers anywhere but at himself. The Vasilievs will find out soon enough, and when they do, they’ll come for answers, maybe for Sienna. I’m not worried about them yet; they’re not the ones who’ll sell her out. It’s her old man and Andrey’s vipers I’ve got to outmaneuver.
I set the glass down untouched, and move to the security panel by the door, checking the feeds from the garage and lobby. Clear for now, but I’m not naive enough to think we’re invisible.
My penthouse is a fortress, all reinforced glass and coded locks, but it’s not a bunker. We can’t stay holed up forever. I glance at Sienna’s suitcase again, and something twists in my chest, a fierce need to protect her, to claim her not just as a partner in this bloody escape but as mine in every way that matters. She’s no damsel, not with that knife in her hand and a body at her feet, but she’s walking a tightrope now, and I’m the only one close enough to catch her if she falls. My pulse kicks up from the pull of her, this killer bride who’s turned my world upside down.
She steps into the living room, her black dress hugging every curve, her damp hair falling in waves that catch the light. Hereyes meet mine, wary but steady, and I feel that same jolt from the hotel, like she’s a live wire I can’t stop touching.
“We’re safe here?” she asks, her voice soft but edged with steel, and I nod, crossing to her in three strides.
“For now,” I say, my hand finding her waist, fingers brushing the fabric that’s too thin to hide the heat of her skin. “But your father’s going to come looking, and Andrey’s people won’t be far behind. We need to move again. I’ve got a place upstate, off the grid. We can disappear there, figure out our next play.”
I pull off my suit jacket, my black shirt, tossing them onto the fire before switching on the flames and letting them burn away the last bit of evidence. I’m fairly certain my trousers are clean but I’m not prepared to risk it. Sienna watches me without shame or embarrassment. Desire licks at the edges of her blown pupils, her eyes roving over my body, my muscles, my tattoos.
I pad through to the bedroom and pull on jeans and a grey long sleeved T-shirt. There’s already a go bag in my car, but I grab some money from the safe anyway, before heading back out into the living area.
“Would you have had to go into hiding if you had killed him?” She asks. “Because that was always the plan, right? You were going to kill him.”
I think for a moment. “I always lie low after a significant kill. To recalibrate as much as to stay out of the line of accusation.”
She thinks for a moment, watching me for any signs of a lie.
“Okay,” she finally says, picking up her small case and following me out of the penthouse.
Sienna
We've been driving for hours, the city lights fading into a star-scattered sky, and now this off-grid hideaway feels like another world, isolated and raw.
Daniil kills the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the thud of my heart, and I step out onto the gravel path, my legs shaky from the adrenaline that's been simmering since we left the hotel.
The place is rustic, all weathered logs and a wraparound porch shadowed by towering trees, but I can tell it's fortified, with subtle cameras glinting in the early morning light and reinforced doors that whisper of hidden dangers. He grabs my suitcase from the trunk, his movements efficient, almost predatory, and I follow him inside, the door creaking shut behind us with a finality that makes my skin prickle.
Inside, the space is sparse but warm, a single room dominated by a stone fireplace, a worn leather couch, and a kitchenette tucked in the corner. Daniil flicks on a lamp, casting a golden glow that dances across his sharp features, highlighting the scar on his cheek and the tension in his jaw. He sets my suitcase down and turns to me, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
We've barely spoken during the drive. The weight of our escape hung between us like an unspoken promise, but now, inthis confined space, the air crackles with it. I feel exposed. My black dress still clings to my skin from the earlier shower. His gaze traces the curve of my neck, lingering on the pulse fluttering there. My body responds without permission, a flush creeping up my chest, and I cross my arms to hide it, but he notices, his lips curving into that feral grin that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
He steps closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight, and I back up instinctively until my hips hit the edge of the counter. The space between us shrinks, charged with the memory of our kisses in the hotel, the way his hands felt on my bloodied skin, claiming me in the midst of chaos.
"You holding up?" he murmurs, his voice rough, laced with something darker than concern, and I nod, swallowing hard against the dryness in my throat.
His scent envelops me, and I fight the urge to reach out, to trace the lines of his chest under his shirt. Tension coils in my core, a mix of fear and desire twisting together until I can’t tell them apart. He's a stranger, a killer like me. Yet in his presence, I feel alive, stripped bare of the facade I wore for so long.
My father's betrayal lingers in my mind, a shadow threatening to pull me under, but Daniil's nearness pushes it back, replacing it with this electric pull that makes my fingers itch to touch him.
