Thirteen

SOFIYA

Is this what pure shock feels like? Numb and nothing else. I stare out the window as Mikhail drives us away from the club, Irina’s dead body seared into my brain. He killed her. He killed her right in front of me.

I know Bratva men are dangerous. I know Mikhail does things when it comes to his work—dark things I don’t question because it’s not my place. I am his wife, not his employee. I don’t need to know what he does for his job. How he became the strongest, most powerful man in Moscow. I just don’t need to know.

But tonight, I saw it first-hand. He did whip Andrei in front of me, but he didn’t kill him. With Irina, he killed her. All because she tried to kill me.

My fingers touch the cut on my throat. The blood has dried now, but it still stings. “I’ll need a Band-Aid,” I whisper.

Mikhail glances over at me. “What?”

“I’ll need a Band-Aid.” I point at my neck.

His eyes narrow, and his hands clench the steering wheel. “Of course. I’ll find you a bandage when we get back home.”

“And Neosporin. I don’t want it to get infected.”

“I’ll clean your wound. Don’t worry. I won’t let it get infected.”

“Ok. Ok. That sounds good.” I don’t even realize my fingers are shaking until I clench my hands together.

“Are you all right?”

The sound that leaves me is between a laugh and a sob. “No. You just killed someone. Right in front of me.”

Mikhail frowns. “She was trying to kill you.”

“But you and Irina were close at one point. You just killed her.”

“Because she was trying to kill you,” he repeats. “I’ll always protect you, Sofiya. You’re my number one concern now.”

“But you cared for her and were able to kill her. Will you do the same to me?”

He almost swerves the car off the road but gets it back under control. “What? I would never kill you, Sofiya.”

“But you killed Irina!” My shout is loud within the car. I think I’m panicking.

“Because she wasn’t my wife. You are.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Let me pull over.” He finds an empty street and pulls up to the curb, turning the car off. I flinch when he faces me head-on. “You’re afraid of me,” he says softly.

“I just … you killed her right in front of me.”

“I shouldn’t have. I realize that now. I didn’t realize you’d be this upset over it. But you haven’t seen much death, have you?”

“No. Never.”

“Your father kept you sheltered. Maybe he should have shown you what our world is like. What the Bratva is like. I killed Irina because she was going to kill you. She was becoming a problem, and I dealt with her. Now, she’s gone and can never hurt you again. Because I saved you.”

I keep my eyes glued to my lap. “How many people have you killed before?”

“I’ve lost count.” The way he says it so calmly and matter-of-factly is terrifying.

“You’ve seen a lot of dead bodies. Haven’t you?” I sneak a peek at his face and watch him frown.

Mikhail clears his throat and turns away from me. “I have. But none of that matters right now. I was only thinking of protecting you. Not how you would feel over seeing me kill another person. I didn’t think, and now, you’re scared of me. I don’t want you to fear me, Sofiya.”

“How can I not? You’re a murderer.”

“Deep down, you already knew that about me.”

I want to object, but he’s … right. I knew Mikhail did dangerous things. I can’t be naive right now. I’m married to a man who’s the epitome of dangerous. There’s still so much I don’t know about him, but that is one thing I know—Mikhail is dangerous, and there’s no denying it.

And I’ve found comfort in his arms. I let him take my virginity tonight. I let him inside my body. I let him make me feel safe.

He did save me tonight. Irina was going to kill me, and he stopped her.

I take in a deep inhale and let it out slowly. “Is there anything else I need to know about you?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. Finally, “No,” he says and restarts the car. For some reason, I don’t think he’s being entirely truthful. I know about Natasha, his dead wife. I know he’s killed people. I know he’s the ruler of a powerful, dangerous organization.

And I still feel like he’s keeping something from me.

Mikhail has demanded I give him all of myself, and I have. But I don’t think he’s extending the same courtesy to me. I think Mikhail is keeping something from me, and it makes the small distance between us in the car feel miles wide.

Mikhail takes me into the bathroom the moment we get home. “Let me clean that up for you,” he says, taking out a first aid box from under the counter. I wince when he presses an alcoholic rub against my cut.

“It’s not deep,” he says. “You won’t need stitches. Just a bandage.”

I hold still as his fingers place the bandage on my wound. He could easily wrap his hands around my throat and strangle me to death, and then I’d be like Irina—dead, killed by Mikhail.

No. Mikhail doesn’t want me dead. He’s said so himself. I’m safe with him. So, why do I want to bury myself in his chest and run away from him at the same time? He’s my protector.

He’s also my enemy.

But I still want to be with him. None of this makes sense.

Mikhail trails his fingers along my neck, drawing goosebumps up my skin. I let out a slow exhale when he kisses my bandage. “You’ll be all right.” I’m not sure if he means my wound or my mental state.

“Hold me,” I whisper, clinging to his shirt.

Mikhail doesn’t hesitate to wrap me in his arms. “You’re safe with me, Sofiya.”

I know he’s right. But I also know the world we live in is vicious, one where parents are taken from their kids, women are forced into marriages, and murder happens without a blink of an eye. Being with Mikhail inherently puts me in danger.

Despite knowing all this, I sink deeper into his arms and stay like that for a long time.