Page 81 of Bratva Queen

Blyat. Even Aslanov, the Balkan Butcher, had been less of a monster than the senator. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

I sighed, having prepared for this outcome. “Did you really think I would hand you a loaded gun?”

I hadn’t, since A, I wasn’t stupid, and B, the weapon was meant to be symbolic, something to fuck with his mind.

I waited a few more beats, though I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted him to talk to me, or because I was curious whether he would shoot me.

He cursed and lowered the gun, then looked away, out the window. It seemed our talk was over. He really didn’t give a damn about me, not that I’d expected him to.

I left the house with a sense of peace blooming in my chest. The senator was a broken man, who didn’t know how much more shit I had in store for him. Every day he would look at that gun, and debate whether he should off himself. Mission accomplished.

He had nothing left.

I had Katya, so I had everything.

Bonus epilogue

KATYA

A month later.

Life was pretty much perfect, and with my happiness came the overwhelming need to share the joy. I had to admit that I was becoming one of those annoyingly smitten women who wanted to see every one of their friends as much in love as she was. Which was why I drove over to Mia’s who had been suspiciously absent the past few weeks. We were due for our next girls’ night out, and Tommie had already picked out the new theme—Moulin Rouge. But Mia hadn’t responded to our group text. It was weird, and I was worried about her.

I parked my car close to the dorms and made a beeline to Mia’s room. Another twinge of guilt hit me when I realized that I’d kind of bailed on her as a roommate. In my defense, first it had been Kristoff’s fault—he’d hauled me back home. And after…Well, once we were married, I liked playing house with him instead of waking up in a dorm room.

She didn’t open when I knocked, so I used my key and entered. There was no K-pop blasting through the speakers, or Beyoncé, so for a second I thought she wasn’t there. Then I heard a scuffle in the bathroom.

“Mia?” I knocked on the bathroom door. “You in there?”

There was a yelp, and I burst inside. Mia leaned against the sink, her hair in a messy bun, and wearing yoga pants.

“Are you okay? I called you all—” Then my eyes followed hers and noticed the plastic stick on the vanity. “Oh, crap.”

She squared her shoulders. “Crap would be the right way to describe my life right now.”

Mia dropped onto the toilet seat with a pregnancy kit in her hand. “I’ve had it for two days now but was afraid to use it. I…haven’t had my period since we’ve been back from Moscow.”

Moscow? My head started to spin.

I sunk onto the floor next to her. I didn’t need to ask what the result of the test was.

“Does the father know?”

Mia shook her head. “And before you ask, I don’t think he would want to know. He’s not much of a ‘let’s make a family’ man. In other words, yet another person who doesn’t want me in his life.”

Please don’t let it be Sokolov. Please don’t let it—

“It’s Sokolov.”

Crapperthecrap.

***

SOKOLOV

I felt restless, walking up and down the length of my study. My right-hand man, Gregor, put a bag on my desk. It was filled with money.

“The casinos did well this month,” he said, sounding excited about the uptick in our revenue.

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