Page 37 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
"Not even close." I grab another book and throw it. Then another. He doesn't even try to dodge these, just lets them bounce off his chest like they're nothing.
When I run out of things to throw, I stand there, breathing hard, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"Why are you doing this?" My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. "Why do you care so much about some stupid heirlooms?"
His expression darkens, and for the first time since I've known him, I see real pain flash across his face. "They're not just heirlooms. They're all I have left of my mother and sister."
The words hit me like a punch to my gut. I stare at him, seeing him differently for the first time. Not just as my captor, not just as a dangerous Bratva boss, but as someone who's lost people he loved.
"What happened to them?" I ask quietly.
He's silent for a long moment, his jaw working like he's trying to decide whether to tell me. Finally, he speaks.
"Twelve years ago, there was a massacre. Several Bratva families were wiped out in a single night. My mother and my sister were among the dead." His blue eyes bore into mine. "They were gunned down in our home while I was out handling business. I came back to find them lying in pools of their own blood."
My stomach twists. "I'm sorry."
"Your father was involved."
"No." I shake my head vehemently. "My father would never do something like that. He's not a murderer."
"He testified against the families responsible, but I think he knew more than he let on. I think he was part of it." Andrey's voice is hard now, cold. "And I think he stole my family's heirlooms to cover his tracks or to profit from the chaos."
"You're wrong." Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. "My father isn't perfect, but he wouldn't kill innocent people. He wouldn't steal from families who'd lost everything."
"Then where is he?" Andrey demands. "Why did he disappear? Why did he hide those puzzle pieces and that map if he has nothing to hide?"
"I don't know!" The words come out as a shout. "I don't know where he is or why he did any of this. But I know my father, and he's not the monster you think he is."
We stare at each other, the tension between us thick enough to cut. I can see the doubt in his eyes, the war between what he believes and what he wants to believe.
"Marrying me will protect you," he says finally, his voice softer now. "As my wife, you'll be under my protection. Other families won't dare touch you."
"I don't want your protection." I lift my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I don't want anything from you."
"Whatdoyou want, Mariya?" He leans in closer, his hands braced on the wall on either side of my head. "To spend the rest of your life running? Looking over your shoulder? Never knowing when someone's going to find you and use you to get to your father?"
"I want my freedom."
"You'll have it. As much as anyone in our world can have." His eyes search mine. "We'll both be getting something out of this union. I get access to whatever information your father left behind. You get protection and a life that's more than just hiding in the shadows."
"I don't want to marry anyone," I whisper.
"I understand that." He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I hate the way my body responds to his touch. "But this is happening, Mariya. Friday, you're going to become my wife."
"And if I refuse?"
His expression hardens. "Then you'll marry me bound and gagged if need be."
18
ANDREY
The Pushkins’ cabin looks like a fucking war zone.
I stand in the doorway, taking in the destruction, and my hopes of finding something useful plummet straight to hell. Furniture is overturned, cushions slashed open with stuffing spilling out like guts. Drawers have been pulled from dressers and dumped on the floor, their contents scattered everywhere. Pictures hang crookedly on the walls, some with shattered glass. Even the floorboards have been pried up in places, leaving gaping holes in the wood.
Someone beat us here. And they weren't subtle about their search.
