Page 127 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

They thought ink on paper was my soul.

After my father died, I'd spent over a decade rebuilding the organization. Every route had been paid for in blood.

But with Elena tied up a few steps away, all of it suddenly felt light. Laughable.

If Matteo could take it with a contract, I could take it back with my hands.

Only her and the baby—those couldn't be replaced.

And that only mattered if he made it out of here alive.

"See?" Isabella said to Elena. "He still comes back to me."

Elena lifted her head.

She didn't look at Isabella.

She looked at me.

One hand was fully free now, hidden behind the chair. Her ankle rotated slowly, working at the rope.

Our eyes met.

She flicked her gaze to Isabella's gun, then back to me. Her breathing was shallow and fast, but her eyes were steady.

Heat surged up my spine.

Not fear.

She'd handed me the next second.

I didn't nod. I just set the pen down.

It tapped the tabletop.

Soft. Clean.

That was my answer.

Elena yanked her hands free and lunged out of the chair.

Isabella barely had time to turn.

Elena's shoulder slammed into her waist. Both women crashed to the floor. For the first time, Isabella's trained balance didn't save her.

No shot fired.

The gun flew from Isabella's hand, clattering on concrete, sliding under a row of wooden crates.

Elena pinned Isabella's wrist, her other hand instinctively shielding her belly.

She was out of the muzzle line.

I flipped the folding table with one hard shove.

"Go!"

The welded cargo door on the east side exploded inward.