Page 16 of Obsession of the Bratva

“Why are you angry at her?”

I looked at him. Then laughed. Because even drunk, I knew what he was doing. He was trying to pull me apart. Trying to force me to look at things I didn’t want to look at.

“I’m angry because she left me and, not two weeks later, announced her marriage to Petrov.”

There. Silence. Complete silence. The kind that follows a gunshot. The kind that follows truth. I stared at the bar, unable to look at them.

“She left.” My throat tightened, and a bitter laugh escaped. “I would’ve done anything for her. I would’ve burned the city down for her; I would’ve married her.”

The admission hurt because it was true. I had never told Vera, but I had bought a ring. Two months before she left, I had already been planning a proposal. The ring was still sitting in a safe somewhere. Untouched and unwanted. And now she had almost walked down an aisle toward someone else. The thought nearly made me sick.

“I genuinely thought I was capable of hating her after all she did to me, but then I saw her on the day of the wedding, and I brought her with me. And I remembered I never stopped loving her.”

Nobody spoke for a long time. Eventually, I felt a hand land on my shoulder. It was Kliment’s.

“Come on.”

I didn’t move. “Leave me here.”

“Not happening.”

“I’m drinking.”

“We noticed.”

“Do you seriously not realize this is not who you are, Nico?” Kliment asked, his tone hardening. “You are acting as if a girl betraying you is your entire fucking life when you are so much more than that. You are my best goddamn enforcer, and you are excellent at what you do. You are the only one managing both our white and black fronts without the slightest hitch, and you have been doing it for years both in Russia and America. You are smart and capable and everything else, and you are acting as if none of it matters.”

“None of it does,” I reply, Kliment’s words making the hole inside me feel even bigger.

“But it does matter, Nico,” Fyodor chimed in. “It matters because we are not going to sit here and let you lose yourself over this. You need to fix your fucking life and attitude and stop acting like all hope is lost and you are suddenly nothing and nobody.”

I glared at him, but he remained completely unimpressed. It was impossible for me to fight my older brothers. Jarek and Fyodor stood up, their intent clear before me. They were planning to drag me out of here.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

Kliment grabbed my arm, and I considered resisting. Then realized I was drunk enough to lose, which would be embarrassing. So I allowed them to pull me upright. The room immediately reminded me why standing was overrated.

“Jesus Christ,” Fyodor muttered.

“I’m fine.”

“You are absolutely not fine.”

“I kidnapped a bride very professss…professionally,” I lisped, realizing how drunk I was.

“That is not helping your argument right now, Nico,” Fyodor sighed, helping me stay upright.

Fair.

The drive back was quiet as nobody pushed and nobody questioned. Kliment didn’t even try to lecture me. They simply sat with me, and for the first time in months, I wasn’t alone with it.

The anger.

The grief.