Page 115 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

I shook my head, forcing frantic sounds through my throat.

"Mmm—mmm!"

Isabella watched me, then laughed.

"She is worried about him."

Matteo looked down at me. "Of course she is."

"Pathetic," Isabella said, stepping closer. "He threw you away for me so many times, and you still get scared he'd die."

She wanted me to deny it. She wanted shame on my face. But in that moment, I stopped lying to myself.

I had loved Kiryan.

Not because of paperwork. Not because he had claimed me. Not even only because he had learned—finally—to wait on the far side of my boundaries.

I knew him at his worst. I had also watched him try to be better.

I remembered him tossing my art supplies into the rain. I also remembered him standing in my gallery later, clumsy and serious, trying to tell my colors apart. I remembered him letting go of my hand at that birthday party. I remembered that night of pouring rain—he could've stormed upstairs, but he had stopped at the line I drew.

I hadn't forgiven him. I still hadn't decided whether I could trust him again. But love didn't wait for logic to sign off. It had survived long before I admitted it. Admitting it didn't make me weak. It just made me terrified to lose him.

Because I knew Kiryan would come.

He was older than me. He'd seen more betrayal than I ever would. He could hear a lie in a hesitation, see murder in a man's eyes before the gun came up. He wouldn't believe Matteo would keep a deal.

And he would still come.

Last night, he had said he remembered every line I drew. Today, before class ended, he'd told me to text him when I got home. I hadn't. That unanswered message would drag him here.

I shook my head with everything I had, like he could see it across the city.

Don't.

Please.

Don't come for me.

Matteo watched and smiled wider.

"Looks like my math is right."

"You are wrong," Isabella snapped. "Elena worrying about him doesn't mean he gives a damn about Elena."

Matteo tilted his head at her.

"You know him better than I do?"

"I've known him for years," she said. "Kiryan never sacrifices profit for feelings. He is ruthless. He can throw away the people closest to him. Elena was gone from him for so long—he did just fine, didn't he?"

The words spilled fast, like she was trying to convince Matteo and herself at the same time.

"He'd come because he doesn't let other people touch what is his," Isabella went on. "The second he realizes the price is the whole Bratva, he'd let her die."

My chest ached.

The old me would've believed that. The me abandoned at that birthday party would've believed it. The me walking out with divorce papers would've believed it. But now I remembered the word he'd used at breakfast—please. He was still dangerous, still obsessive, but he didn't grind my choices under his heel anymore.