Page 46 of The Bratva Sinner

“This isn’t about her anymore, is it?” he questions softly. “This is about your mom.”

The words hit hard. I feel my hands curl into fists.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“You lost your mother.” His voice softens. “You weren’t able to save her. But you can save Lila. Is that it?”

“Shut up, Damien.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? This isn’t about wanting her or protecting your operation or even your pride. This is about that scared sixteen-year-old boy who watched his mother die and swore he’d never let it happen again.”

I round on him, grab his shirt, and slam him against the car. “I said shut up!”

He doesn’t fight back.

“You can’t save everyone.” It’s a phrase we say way too often in this business. “Sometimes, people die no matter what you do.”

I release him and step back. “Not her. She doesn’t die.”

“Even if it costs you everything?”

“Even then.”

I get in the car and start the engine. Damien climbs into the passenger seat, and we drive in silence.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m trying to rewrite history, to save the girl I couldn’t save before.

Or maybe I just can’t stomach the thought of another woman dying because men like Arlind think they own her.

Either way, I’m in too deep to turn back now. I was in too deep the moment I laid eyes on her.

My phone buzzes with a text from Sergei.

We need to talk.

I should have known this was coming. You don’t start a war in Miami without the pakhan finding out. You don't drag the Sokolov name into this without consequences.

“Sergei,” I say to Damien.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

He whistles low. “You’re fucked.”

“Probably.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

“The truth,” I say finally. “I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m marrying her. And if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me after the wedding.”

Damien laughs. “You really have lost your mind.”

Maybe I have.