Page 106 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Anton is still out there.” Roman stops pacing and turns to face me. His eyes are dark, fathomless. “He knows what’s in this ledger. He knows it can destroy him. Do you think he’s just going to let us walk out of here with it?”

The implication hits me like cold water. “You think he’ll come for it?”

“I don’t think. I know he will.” Roman moves to the window and peers out through the gap in the curtains. “He’s been watching us. Even if he didn’t know the ledger is here, he’ll be watching us like a hawk.”

He turns back to face me, and I see the calculation happening behind his eyes. He’s already thinking three steps ahead, planning for the confrontation that’s coming.

“We need to move,” he says. “Now, before he realizes what we’ve found.”

I nod and move to help him gather the ledger and the other documents scattered across the desk. My hands are shaking slightly as I stack the pages, but I force myself to focus. This isn’t the time to fall apart.

Roman pulls out his phone and dials. “Lev. We have the ledger and everything else. Dmitri’s apartment was a dead end, but there was a safe here at the mansion. Yes, I have it all.” He pauses, listening. “How long? Shit. No, we’re leaving now. Have the car brought around to the service entrance. Lev? Tell the team to be ready for trouble.”

He hangs up and pockets the phone, then reaches for the ledger and tucks it under his arm.

“Stay close to me,” he says. “No matter what happens, you stay close.”

“I will.”

We move toward the door but before we can reach it, the sound of shattering glass echoes from somewhere below. Then another crash, followed by shouting.

Roman’s hand finds mine, his grip iron-tight. “They’re here.”

My heart lodges in my throat. “The back stairs?”

He nods sharply, pulling me toward a narrow hallway. It used to be servants’ stairs, back in the 1800s. The door at the end is hidden behind a tapestry, and Roman pushes through it without hesitation.

The staircase beyond is dark and steep, the walls close enough that I can brush them with my fingertips on either side. Roman moves fast, his footsteps sure even in the darkness. I stumble after him, my free hand trailing along the wall for balance.

“Where does this lead?” I whisper.

“Service entrance. Lev or Artyom should have a car waiting.”

The sounds of fighting grow louder as we descend. I can hear gunshots now, mixed with the crash of breaking furniture and the thud of bodies hitting walls.

Roman’s grip on my hand tightens, but he doesn’t slow down.

We emerge into a narrow corridor that smells of old stone and oil. Roman pushes through another door, and suddenly we’re in the mansion’s service wing, surrounded by laundry rooms and the industrial kitchen where Oksana used to prepare our meals.

The back door is ahead, a heavy steel number with a small window set into it. Through the glass, I can see the glow of headlights.

“There,” Roman says.

Before we can reach it, a figure steps out from behind a supply shelf.

Anton.

He looks different than he did at the council meeting. His suit is rumpled, his hair disheveled, and there’s a wildness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He’s not playing the polished underboss anymore. He’s a man with nothing left to lose.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

Roman pushes me behind him, his body a shield between me and Anton. “Get out of the way, Anton.”

“I don’t think so.” Anton’s gaze flicks to the ledger under Roman’s arm. “I see you found what I’ve been looking for. Dmitri always was sentimental, keeping everything in one place.”

“You knew about the safe.”

“I knew there was a safe. I didn’t know where.” Anton’s smile is thin, bitter. “Imagine my surprise when I realized you’d figure it out. You always were the smart one, Roman. Too smart for your own good.”