Page 73 of Bratva Queen

“Kristoff doesn’t deal well with being scared.”

Mia laughed. “Scared? Well, if that was scared, I don’t want to see him when he’s pissed. The man was damn scary when he ordered the place to shut down. Then one of the Volkov soldiers had the audacity to smirk, and he went ballistic.”

I looked down. “Guess he was happy to see Aslanov’s daughter lying in a pool of her own blood.”

Mia grabbed my hand. “So…I start blabbing sometimes without thinking things through.”

I gave her a look. “Which is one of the reasons I love you, so don’t ever stop.”

She rolled her eyes. “Since I’m in a blabbing kind of mood, I might as well just tell you the rest about that night. Once he found you, Kristoff didn’t leave your side, nor did any of Ilya’s men who basically built a wall around you. Then he nodded at someone, and suddenly Sokolov was there. The next moment the Volkov soldier who’d smiled wrong disappeared into thin air.” She swallowed. “It was absolute pandemonium after that.”

“Sokolov was at the club?”

Mia nodded as she fiddled with her bag. “I bumped into him after the mayhem started. Why?”

My head spun. Could my memory be right? “I think someone might have pushed me off the stairs. At first, I suspected Ilya, but now you tell me Sokolov was there as well.”

Mia looked pale. She sat on the chair next to my bed. “I feel sick.”

“Join the club. Kristoff has assured me that Sokolov wouldn’t harm me, since I’m Kristoff’s wife, but who knows what goes on in his head? And, honestly, maybe I just want it to be him, because at least he isn’t related to me.”

“Have you told Kristoff about this?”

“No, because he would lose his shit.” Already he had been pacing around me like a caged tiger.

When Kristoff walked in, I cut Mia a look. I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t have any proof, and my memory was fuzzy at best. But most of all, I just wanted to leave this horrid week behind and go home. I needed to pick up my studies, be around the people I loved, and, most of all, start my marriage the way I wanted to—right by Kristoff’s side.

Saying goodbye to Aslanov hadn’t been easy. He’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t approve of Kristoff, and had threatened to send a crew to pick me up from the hospital and whisk me back to his castle, where I was to stay forever. Those hadn’t been his exact words, but I had gotten the gist. I’d accused him of wanting to turn me into a fellow hermit. After that, there had been some yelling from both sides, until I had promised to return one day, and he had calmed down. I wasn’t sure when I would visit Aslanov again, but I couldn’t chance him sabotaging our departure. In the end, he’d apologized, and so had I, feeling sorry for him.

***

We left the hospital in a procession of six cars. I thought it was a bit over the top, but Kristoff found it necessary. Yuri and Mia were in one of the cars in front of us, because Kristoff wanted our vehicle to take a detour before we went to the private airfield.

My breath caught in my throat when we drove by the Novodevichy convent. From the outside it looked more like a castle, with its white walls and several gold-plated globes, among which what looked to be a cathedral and bell tower.

I hadn’t seen much of Moscow, and for a split-second I wondered if he wanted to play tourist with me before we left. But then the car passed the convent and stopped in front of a burgundy wall. It was the entrance to the cemetery.

Kristoff held my hand as we entered the famous burial site. We walked past several ornate tombs, and I wondered why we were here.

He kept on walking until we arrived at a tombstone at the far corner. I held him closer when I saw the name on it.

His mother was buried here. How had I not known this?

He pushed his hands into his pockets. “It was her wish to be buried in Russia. Many famous people are buried here. Playwrights, musicians, and politicians. To this country they were heroes, but to me, my mother was a hero too. She deserved the best, so here she is. Once a year I fly over to talk to her. I confess my sins, tell her of my sorrows. Today, for the first time, I have something joyous to tell her.”

My throat clogged, and I think my heart broke a little at the vulnerability in his voice.

“Mom, this is Ekaterina, my wife. She’s the reason I wake up thankful every morning. She’s the compassion to the vicious demons in my soul, the love to my hatred, and the sanity to my inner berserker. Katya is all of that and more. And one day, perhaps, she will be the mother of my child.”

I started to shake and bit my lip to hold back my tears.

Kristoff stroked my hair. “This place is like my confessional. When I leave, I don’t take the hurt and grief with me. I let it go, at least until the next time. You don’t have to say a word, Ekaterina, but just let your sorrow go.”

I couldn’t hold them in anymore, and sobs wracked through my body. My shoulders shook as grief poured over me. I cried until my head ached and I felt empty, and I didn’t have any more tears left inside.

I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

***

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