Page 57 of Savage Truce

“Yeah, but we can’t stand around here like sitting ducks. One missile and the criminal world gets a facelift,” Raya gives her two cents.

“She’s right,” I agree. “Go to your hotels. Once I have a plan in place, I’ll notify you all.”

No, I won’t. This is my score to settle.

Christiano nods, and holding his wife tightly to his side, he jogs with her to his SUV.

Vadim catches my eye, and I shout at the guard, “Gather my family and get them to the safe house.”

One by one, people leave until only Atanas, Constantin, Enzo, Devran, and Ryo remain. I didn’t even get to greet the heads of the Turkish mafia and the Yakuza.

Looking at my main alliance members, it really sinks in that I got the impossible right. By overthrowing Yegor, the Bratva has moved into a new age with strong connections who are willing to fight with us.

And I’ll be damned if I let Sokolov take it away from me.

“Get your bride to a safe place. We’ll be in touch to brainstorm what to do next,” Constantin says.

I glance at Anastasia, and noticing how pale she is, I place my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my chest.

Patting Constantin’s shoulder as I pass him, I lead Anastasia into the house so she can change out of the wedding gown. We also need to pack a bag for a couple of days.

Andrei stays right behind us until we enter the main bedroom, where he stands guard by the door.

Stopping in the walk-in closet, I grip Anastasia by her shoulders and lean down to catch her eyes that are filled with shock.

“How are you holding up, moya krasavitsa?”

She lifts her hand and takes hold of my jacket’s lapel, then slowly inches forward until she presses her face into my chest. “I-I just need a minute.”

Wrapping her in a hug, I drop kisses on her hair and say, “I’m so fucking sorry this happened on our special day.”

“Can I ask what’s going on?”

“Oleg Sokolov was Yegor’s best friend, and he’s pissed. He wants to take over the Bratva.” I hesitate to tell her the rest, but figuring the more she knows, the better, I add, “And he wants you to marry his son.”

When her body shudders, I pull back so I can see her face that’s torn with concern.

I shake my head fast. “Don’t even worry about it. You’re mine, and I will kill every fucking person who tries to take you from me.”

“Can we leave?” Her fingers curl into my lapels, and she gives me a pleading look. “Before they attack again.”

“Of course.” I have to take hold of her hands and pull them away from my jacket, so I can reach into the closet and take out a bag. “Change out of the dress. It will only slow you down.”

Neither of us realizes Anastasia is getting undressed right behind me until I’m done tossing two sets of clothes into the bag and I turn to her side of the closet.

Coming to a sudden halt, my jaw drops to the fucking carpet. My eyes lock on the white lace covering one hell of a fuckable ass, and I hiss, “Iisus Khristos.”

Anastasia snaps upright and spins around, and I’m hit with another sexy-as-fuck view when I get to see her full breasts straining against the bra. A hundred bombs can go off, and I wouldn’t be able to tear my gaze away from my fucking hot wife.

When I saw her half naked two weeks ago, I was too focused on the breakdown she was having to really appreciate her body, and with the weight she’s regained, every inch of her has filled out perfectly.

“Ah…” I struggle to speak, still struck speechless.

Anastasia quickly takes a cashmere sweater from the cupboard, her cheeks turning bright red.

Before she can cover herself, I grab her wrist and step closer. With my other hand, I grip her side, and pushing her backward, I pin her to the wall.

“Now I’m the one who needs a minute,” I say, my voice thick with desire. “I need to admire my perfect wife.”