Page 169 of His Forced Bride
The third shot ends her forever, and I don't even hesitate to take it.
They can lock me up and throw away the key forever, but I am free now.
She will never hurt me again.
I stand over the corpse, feeling no satisfaction, only relief.
My hands tremble as I lay the weapon on the desk, and faintly, I hear my phone ringing, but I'm lost in a hollow numbness I can't snap myself out of as I stare at her dying.
When the elevator opens and Yuri emerges, he absorbs the scene with a single glance.
Shattered glass, overturned furniture, a bleeding corpse.
He rushes to me, pulling me into his arms.
"Are you injured?" he asks.
"No."
I'm still numb, still feeling cold hatred.
"But I'm not okay."
Turning, I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in.
Tears refuse to come, but I know this is over.
He'll call whoever he has to call to clean it up or bury it, and I will go home to his compound where I'll feel the heaviness of having lost everyone I ever knew.
But it's over.
And I am safe.
30
YURI
The compound's main hall has been transformed for mourning.
Black cloth drapes the windows, and hundreds of candles flicker across every surface, their light dancing against framed photographs of the dead.
Semyon Mirov stares out from a dozen images—some formal business portraits, others candid shots from family gatherings over the years.
Dominic appears younger in his photos, captured before the recklessness that defined his final months took full hold.
The memorial should have happened weeks ago, but chaos and an overly thorough investigation prevented proper observance.
Viktoria's schemes, the legal challenges, the constant threat of violence—all of it made gathering the family too dangerous.
Now that she's dead and her network destroyed, we can finally honor our losses without looking over our shoulders.
Family members fill my home with hushed and reverent conversations.
Uncles from Moscow, cousins from Novosibirsk, allies who've served the Gravitch name for decades.
Rosa has prepared enough food to feed twice this number, though appetite remains scarce when grief fills the room.
The scent of burning wax mingles with the aroma of her cooking, creating an atmosphere both solemn and strangely comforting.
