Page 125 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

He flicked his hand.

One of his men dragged in a folding table and slapped down a thick contract. The first page listed docks, warehouses, transport lines, contacts. After that—shares, accounts, ownership transfers.

He'd come prepared.

"Sign," Matteo said. "Give me every Morozov route up and down the East Coast. You walk away from everything you can move. I let her live."

"Let her go first."

"You don't have leverage."

I looked at Elena.

She shook her head hard, eyes blazing, almost angry.

I'd put status, rules, family interests on her shoulders. But when the real choice landed in her lap, she'd rather stare down a gun than watch me lose everything.

I stared at the contract and let silence stretch on purpose.

Matteo's patience frayed. "You got one chance."

Isabella sneered. "I told you. He won't pick you."

Elena kept shaking her head.

I lifted my eyes.

"If I sign, she walks out alive?"

"Of course," Matteo said.

Every word out of his mouth was a lie.

Isabella ripped off the last strip of tape that still clung at Elena's mouth. Elena could finally speak.

"Kiryan, don't."

Her voice came out raw, like sandpaper. Every drop of blood in my body surged toward her.

"Don't sign," she said, staring at me. "He won't let us live."

Isabella slapped her.

My body moved before my brain—one step forward.

Four guns snapped up.

I stopped.

Elena's head was turned to the side, fresh blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. She slowly faced forward again, still looking at me.

No blame in her eyes. Just a warning.

Don't do something stupid.

I'd had guns pointed at me more times than I could count. None of them had been harder than this.

"Pen," I said.