Page 71 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

He releases Anton’s arm and lets him fall the rest of the way, then turns to the men flanking the pews. They already have Anton’s men covered, their weapons stripped away before they ever had a chance to react. Lev is among them, standing in the entryway now.

“Get him out of here,” Roman says.

Lev doesn’t need to be told twice. He and two others grab Anton by the arms and haul him to his feet.

Anton struggles, his face purple with rage. “You can’t do this! The elders have already decided that she’s mine.”

Roman watches as Lev drags Anton toward the side door, his expression cold.

Anton’s struggles intensify as they reach the doorway. He wrenches one arm free and throws a punch at Lev, catching him across the jaw. Lev’s head snaps back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he drives his knee into Anton’s stomach, doubling him over.

“Touch me again,” Lev says, “and I’ll break your other arm.”

Anton wheezes something unintelligible, but he stops struggling. Lev and the others drag him through the door and out of sight.

The church is silent.

I’m still pressed against Roman’s chest, my fingers clutching the fabric of his stolen robes. I can feel his heart beating beneath my palm, and I never want to let go.

Eventually, he steps back.

His hands find my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. Dark eyes search my face like he’s looking for something. Damage, maybe. Or fear, or something else entirely.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’m okay.” My voice breaks.

Roman’s jaw tightens. He turns to face the congregation, and I follow his gaze.

The elders are sitting in their pews, their faces a mixture of shock and calculation. Some of them look angry. All of them are watching us like hawks.

There, in the front row, is my father. His face is paler than I’ve ever seen it. When he sees me looking at him, he flinches.

Roman’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. He gestures to the elders, and then back to me. The question is clear.

I look from Anton’s retreating form to Roman’s eyes. I think about the baby growing inside me, about the future I never thought I’d have.

I don’t know if this is the right choice, exactly, but I do know one thing: if I decline, they win. If I leave, I’ll spend the rest of my life running.

But if I stay...

I give a sharp nod.

Roman meets my gaze. He squeezes my hand once, and then turns to face the congregation.

“Tonight,” he says, his voice ringing through the church, “you all witnessed something that should never have happened. You saw a woman dragged from her home and forced to stand at an altar next to a man she doesn’t want.”

The elders shift uncomfortably. My father looks away.

“That ends now.” Roman releases my hand and steps forward, his eyes sweeping across the assembled faces. “From this moment on, Vera is under my protection. She is mine, and anyone who thinks otherwise can answer to me.”

Then Roman turns back to me, and his hand finds mine again. “Come here,” he says softly.

I’ve never heard him speak softly before. It’s so jarring that for a moment I can only stare at him. Then, I step forward.

He pulls me close, his body warm and solid against mine, and I can feel the eyes of everyone in the church on us.

“Dearly beloved,” Roman begins, and there’s amusement in his voice. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of two souls.”