Page 42 of The Bratva Sinner

"I've got it."

"You can't reach your shoulder properly."

He pauses with the gauze in his hand and sighs. "Fine."

I take the supplies from him. My hands shake slightly as I move behind him to get a better look at the wound on his shoulder blade.

“Who was she?” I wince when I see the injury.

"Her name was Mara," he says. "She'd been with my operation for two years."

"I'm sorry," I repeat.

“I know.”

I want to ask why he’s injured, but I think I know. When he stormed out earlier, the rage and intent on his face were clear. Someone died by his hand tonight. Possibly several people.

“We have a problem,” he says.

“I’ll go,” I murmur.

“No, you’ll marry me.”

A laugh escapes my throat before I see his expression. He’s serious.

My eyes go to his head as I trail my fingers through his wet hair in search of an injury. He must have a TBI. I’ve seen it before. One of the ranch hands got kicked in the head and was talking crazy for hours.

"Marry me," he says again.

“Stop. You’re not in your right mind.”

“Youwillmarry me.”

“I’d like to see you try to force me.”

“It’s the only way. A woman with my name is protected. No one would dare touch you. They know what happens if they try.”

"Absolutely not."

“You don’t have a choice.”

"Idohave a choice. Watch this.” I point to my mouth. “No. I won't be owned. Not by Arlind, not by you, and not by anyone else. That is the one thing I have left, and I will not hand it to you or anyone else."

"This isn't about owning you. This is about you staying alive.”

I snort and rip open a gauze pad. “It’s none of your business if I’m alive or dead.”

“It is.”

“No, Maksim. I’m sorry you went on a murderous rampage, but I won’t marry you. I don’t know you. I don’t think I like you. I know I don’t want to be one of your whores. You like to collect things. I refuse to be one of your pets.”

He grabs my wrist, and his dark eyes flash with rage. "You can hate me in my house, Lila. You can hate me with my ring on your finger. But you are going to be alive while you do it."

I tell myself there’s still a chance he hit his head. "I apologized. I didn't propose."

“My wife carries my name. My wife is protected by the bratva.”

“What the hell is a bratva?”