Page 120 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

That explanation doesn’t help because it doesn’t feel like nothing. I put Violet down so my daughter can’t hear.

“She was supposed to be his wife tonight,” she adds softly. “My father chose her. Everyone knows it was an arrangement. One that Kirill did not uphold.”

“He told me he used her as a decoy. He forgot to mention she was the woman he was supposed to marry before me,” I say, feeling sick, my worst fears realized.

“I suggest you ask your husband to explain that.” She moves her burgundy gown aside to grip my hand. “But be careful, Sandrine. I’ve never known Kirill to hurt a woman. But my brother is a dangerous man. He can hurt people in ways without causing physical pain.”

Her warning stops me briefly. She’s seen a side to him that I haven’t. Not this time anyway. What had I seen before?

I watch them again, a burning sensation coiling, restless under my skin.

“Why her?” I whisper.

“Her father was Papa’s enforcer. It’s the Volkov tradition to secure loyalty through marriage. It’s why I’m with Drago, who was Adrian Chernov’s second.”

That name tickles something in my brain. It was buried somewhere in the puff pieces. CEO, Head of Security, Finance Minister. These are the public titles for men who are killers after dark.

“Let it go tonight,” Ksenia says gently. “You’re witnessing the one thing Kirill has waited for his whole life. He bled to be here. To be here with you, most of all.”

My heart is so heavy hearing that I’m part of the magic Kirill feels tonight. I want to say something else to Ksenia, but Tamara turns away from Kirill. I catch her gaze sliding over the crowd with intense focus until it lands on me. She blinks tears away, and her lips tremble as she meets my stare.

What did Kirill say to her?

I hold her gaze for a fraction of a second longer to send her a message loud and clear. If she wants a war, she’ll get one.

Eyes narrowing, she walks until she’s escorted out of the ceremony room. Hmmm.

I blink, watching everyone in this room. While they were at parties like this eating cake, I was in a state-run facility with no memory, eating baloney sandwiches and two carrot sticks for dinner most nights.

The edges of my sanity begin to fray under the pressure of too many unknowns jamming me in at once. I exhale slowly, my hands empty now without Violet’s needy arms wanting to be held.

Around me, voices buzz around the party. Men finish their drinks, straighten their coats, and leave the ceremony room. Drago kisses his wife on the forehead and leaves.

“The other coronation,” Ksenia says with an exhale.

“Other coronation?”

“Where the pakhan sets his ruthless agenda. And tests his men.”

“How… How long does that take?” I glance down at Violet, who’s starting to look sleepy.

“As long as he needs.”

So, the life Kirill was born into is unfolding exactly as it was meant to.

With a wife, he was not supposed to marry.

Chapter 38

Kirill

Iron Keep’s rooftop door shuts behind me, sealing out any noise from the celebration below. The cold air thrills me. It’s part of my Russian blood.

Up here, there are no flowers. No cake. No wives.

Just my men. Minus one. Chernov. Who sent a woman in his place.

Drago barks the formation signal in Russian, and my Vory create a loose semicircle, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on me. Each one carries appreciation in their eyes of what it means to be here tonight.