Page 160 of Bratva Menace

Tears gathered in her eyes. She buried her face into my chest, burrowing into me. I let her, squeezing her tight. I didn’t blame her for being skeptical. We’d built such a strong connection, and then when I just left, it had hurt her. I understood what she was feeling, and I would do whatever I could to make it right.

We laid like that for I didn’t even know how long. Just enjoying each other’s company. Each other’s presence. Neither one of us wanting to move. I stroked her head, running my fingers through her hair. She drew little circles into my skin, the feel of her breath fanning out over my chest setting me completely at ease.

All my life, I’d been searching for something, and I never even realized it.

It was that. That feeling of absolute belonging. Connection. Like I’d found the other half to my soul.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I whispered softly into her hair. Lyla stiffened in my arms. I tightened my hold on her, fearing she would get up and leave because of the painful topic.

“He wasn’t always like that,” she began in a quiet voice. “When we were kids, he was the only one who was nice to me. My father used to lock me in the closet whenever I misbehaved. His version of ‘misbehaved’ ranged from not doing as I was told to speaking when I wasn’t spoken to. The slightest thing would set our father off. As his firstborn son, Lev had always been exempt from his wrath. I wasn’t. He would lock me in there, sometimes for days at a time, with no food or water. Lev was the only one who gave a shit. Not my mother or the maids or soldiers. No-one. Just Lev. Only Lev.”

Hearing what her father used to do to her made me wish I could drag him from his fucking grave just to send him right fucking back. The bastard.

I kept that anger locked away from her, not wanting it to touch her, and continued to rub small circles into her skin with my thumb.

“He used to sneak me food under the door. Sit outside the closet and sing songs to me so I would know he was there. He was my big brother. My protector. And I killed him.” Her voice broke, and along with it, my heart.

“Baby.” I held her even closer, wishing there was some way I could take that pain from her. Endure it myself so she wouldn’t have to. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

She sniffed and lifted her head. Red eyes found mine, shining with tears. “If not mine, then whose?”

“His. You begged Lev to walk away. You begged him to let his revenge go, and he couldn’t. Your pain that day was clear for everyone to see. He should have chosen you over his revenge. He should have wanted to spare you the pain of the choice you had to make, and he didn’t. He only cared about getting what he wanted. Nothing else. That’s not your fault.” Her gaze lowered, but I wasn’t having it. I raised her head up and grabbed her attention once more. “It’s not your fault.”

“It hurts so much.” She sobbed.

Pain lanced at my heart, seeing her so torn up. “I know, baby, I know.” I buried her face into my chest, holding her as tightly as I could as she cried for her brother. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Lyla let go. She grieved the loss of the only family she’d had left, and I held her the whole time, letting her work through it for as long as she needed. There were no words I could say to make that pain go away. All she needed was my support, my love, and she had it. From then until the end of time and beyond.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

LUKYAN VOLKOV

It’s not easy, living two lives.

I stared out over the dining table, my eyes running over all the trays of food, looking for anything out of place.

Today was the day. Today was the motherfucking day.

Everything had to be perfect. I didn’t want anything less. Lyla didn’t deserve anything less.

The table was set immaculately. I’d googled the best way to set a table, and made sure it looked exactly how it did in the Youtube tutorial. Flora and a few of the other housemaids had offered to help, but I’d respectfully declined. I wanted to do everything myself, and I mean everything.

I cooked all the food. Hand-picked the flowers sitting snugly in the vase in the center of the table. Lit the candles all around the room. Laid the rose pedals on the floor. Set each piece of cutlery, plate, and wine glass in exactly the right spot. I wanted Lyla to see the effort I put in. See how important it all was to me that everything be absolutely perfect for her.

Only for her. Because she deserved the world.

I wore my best suit. My hair was down because I knew she loved it the most that way. My face was clean-shaven. I’d buffed my shoes so they were sparkling. And the pièce de résistance—her collar, snapped securely around my neck.

Despite the excitement coursing through my veins, I couldn’t help but be a little nervous too. I hated being nervous. It was so out of the norm for me, but I knew it was a good kind of nervous because today was the day that everything finally revealed itself.

The day that I spoke the whole truth, for the first time in two years. No lies. No carefully worded answers or phrases. Just the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

My phone dinged with an incoming text message.

Illayana Butt Face: Pulling up now.

My breath caught in my throat. Fuck, here we go.