Page 87 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Eventually, exhaustion wins. I let him guide me to the bedroom, let him pull back the covers and tuck me in. He slides in beside me, his body warm and solid against my back.

“Sleep,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.

I’m drifting in that space between sleep and waking when I hear a soft buzz. It’s followed by the glow of a phone screen.

Roman shifts beside me, his body tensing instantly. I can feel the change in him, the way he goes from relaxed to alert in the space of a heartbeat.

“What is it?” I mumble, still half-asleep.

“Nothing.” His voice is tight. “Go back to sleep.”

He’s already moving, sliding out of bed and reaching for something in the nightstand drawer. I hear the familiar weight of a gun being lifted, the click of a magazine being checked.

That wakes me up completely.

“Roman.” I push myself up on my elbows, my heart starting to pound. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s reading something on his phone, his face illuminated by the screen. Whatever he sees there makes his expression go cold.

“Roman, you’re scaring me.”

He looks up, and I can see the fear in his eyes. Real fear, the kind I’ve never seen from him before.

“Get up,” he says. “Now.”

I’m out of bed before I can think, my feet hitting the cold floor. “What’s happening?”

“Lev sent a warning.” Roman moves to the closet, pulling on clothes with quick, efficient movements. “They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?”

Before he can answer, the alarm system blares to life. The sound is a deafening, high-pitched wail that cuts through the silence of the penthouse.

Roman moves with lethal speed. One second he’s by the closet, the next he’s in front of me, his hand wrapped around my arm.

“Come with me,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

He drags me toward the hallway, his gun in his other hand. I stumble after him, my brain struggling to process what’s happening.

“Roman, slow down!”

“There’s no time.”

He stops at a section of wall that looks like every other section, then presses his palm against a panel I didn’t even know existed. A hidden door slides open, revealing a small room beyond.

“Panic room,” he says, pushing me inside. “Stay here. Don’t open this door for anyone but me.”

“Roman, I’m not leaving you.”

“No, don’t argue now.” His hands frame my face, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re staying safe.”

“I can’t just hide in here while you... do whatever it is you’re going to do.”

“You can.” His voice is fierce. “You will, because if something happens to you, if something happens to the baby, I will never forgive myself.”

I want to argue, want to tell him that I won’t be left behind, but I can see the determination in his eyes.