Page 82 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Mario glares down at his son one last time and then smiles at me. “I think we can all get rid of our weapons, right? No one else needs to die tonight.”

I hesitate for only a second before I lower my weapon and step back. Mario’s security detail does the same and the word is spread that all soldiers are to fully stand down until further notice.

As soon as he’s no longer under my gun, Rio jumps to his feet, shakes the dirt off his pants, and paces away with his chest puffed out. Mario rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t want this fight,” he admits softly. “I thought my son would handle the discussions on my behalf, but it seems he was incapable of communicating with words.”

His admission is bold. It reveals his weakness, and I feel it’s only right to repay him with one of my own. “My brother also chooses his weapon over his words. I’m sorry for the consiglieres you lost.”

Mario shrugs. “It happens. Now, what is this about you taking a wife?”

I frown, wondering if the old man somehow overheard what I said to his son. “I have my own sources of information, and I don’t tell my son everything.”

“Your sources are correct. I took a wife.”

“Congratulations,” Mario says, though it doesn’t feel genuine. “You know, I hoped you would be a good match for my daughter Maria. She requires a strong husband with a firm hand.”

“You will have to find another firm hand, I’m afraid.”

“Ah well,” he sighs. “I suppose we will have to come to peace through different means.”

Talking to Mario feels like talking to a sane person after a year of being trapped in an asylum. He doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want death. He wants peace and to be left alone.

I can relate.

“Your men disrespected my brother on contested territory. So, why not start there? The territory where the disagreement occurred belongs to my Bratva.”

Mario’s jaw tightens. “That would be fair except that your brother gunned down two of my men there. I don’t think that kind of behavior should be rewarded.”

“And it won’t be,” I assure him. “Fedor will be striped of responsibilities until he has earned back my trust. Another outburst, however, will result in being exiled from the Bratva.”

Mario raises a brow. “You’d throw out your own family? Ruthless.”

“When I need to be.” It’s a threat of sorts. A reminder that though we’re being civil now, I am not afraid to do what needs to be done.

“That’s a good start, but it’s still not enough,” Mario says. “If we give up that territory, we should get something in return. Perhaps one of your smaller stash houses?”

I cross my arms. “My men won’t like that arrangement.”

“Do you answer to your men or do they answer to you?” Mario asks.

I should fire a warning shot just for Mario’s suggestion that I take orders from my own men, but I don’t. Because it’s not worth riling the still-simmering soldiers nearby who are eager to gun one another down. My actions would have a ripple effect that could be deadly.

“Partial control of the Twin Chandeliers,” I suggest. “You’re free to move product through there as you like and use the motel as a front. For the time being.”

“That’s not very concrete.”

“It’s temporary,” I say. “Terms can be outlined later in an official meeting.”

Mario is thinking, but I know he will take the deal. It’s the best he can expect after his son blew a hole in my office building.

“Fine,” he says after a long pause. “It will do … for now.”

Rio groans in the background and begins mumbling under his breath, but before I can catch what he’s saying, an engine roars to life nearby. We all turn towards the sound and watch as a black car with deeply tinted windows rolls into the lot.

Mario’s guards square up around him again, and he backs away from the car. I lift my gun again just as the driver’s side door opens, and Fedor steps out.

Of course he shows up for his war after it’s over.

As I watch him walk around the front of the car, I’m formulating the best thing to say to him—something that will both cow him and show Mario that I’m serious about discipling my out of control brother. But all thought flies out of my head as he opens the passenger door and Molly steps out, hands raised.

For one second, there’s blinding relief.

She’s here. She’s alive. She’s come back.

Then Fedor presses a gun to her head.

My vision goes red.

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