Page 5 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Her face goes pale.

“You didn’t know,” I say. There’s a smug satisfaction in that, settling somewhere deep in my chest.

“Dmitri told me he married me to help, to give me a better life⁠—”

“He lied.” The words come out harder than I intend, a snap that echoes through the mausoleum. She’s quiet for a long moment. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, and I can see the pulse jumping in her throat.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know what he was.”

“I knew what he was.” Her voice is low and rough. “I lived with him.”

There it is. The crack in her facade.

I step closer. She’s backed up against the iron door now, and there’s nowhere for her to go unless she pushes past me. The space between us is maybe two feet.

“Did he hit you?” I ask.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Did he?”

She looks away. Her jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath her skin. She’s still clinging to the umbrella handle, her knuckles turning white with the force of her iron-like grip. That’s all the answer I need.

“I should’ve killed him years ago,” I snarl.

“You killed him,” she whispers.

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

“How?” Her voice is a trembling whisper.

“Oh, little bird, I don’t think you want to know.” I watch her face as I say it, waiting for the horror or disgust or whatever normal people feel when they hear about murder.

Her eyes meet mine. There’s something in them I can’t quite read. It’s not fear.

“I’m glad you killed him.” She says it clearly, each word distinct. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

I should probably be surprised, but I’m not. I saw her face at the funeral. Saw the way she stood there, dry-eyed and rigid, while everyone else pretended to mourn. I don’t even bother keeping the smile out of my voice.

Of course she didn’t love him. They married for convenience, not love. Anybody with eyes could see that.

I reach out, hands clamping around her wrist. This time, Vera doesn’t try to pull away. “Did you ever love him?”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I was too young when I married him. I didn’t know what love was. I thought maybe it would come later, after we got to know each other. Then I got to know him, and I realized...” She trails off. “I realized he was exactly what he seemed. Charming on the outside. Rotten underneath.”

I’m standing close enough now that I can smell her perfume. Something floral and light. It’s completely at odds with the cold stone and death surrounding us.

“He was worse than you knew.”

Something shifts in her expression, but she says nothing.

“There are things Dmitri kept hidden. Things he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to find.” I watch her carefully. “Including a ledger.”

Her brow furrows. “A ledger?”

“You lived in his house. I need to know if you ever saw it. A book, records, anything he kept somewhere no one else was supposed to look.”