I wrote my wedding vows with lies and loathing,
Hurried into a pretend marriage with a gorgeous Bratva boss for all the wrong reasons,
Drenched in a bitter hatred that slowly corroded into molten hot passion.
And a shocking twin pregnancy that has me eating for three…
But sometimes making peace with one enemy only creates new ones.
Sometimes it means letting the past burn so a future can rise,
And sometimes, like tonight, it means holding each other up as we walk away from the carnage, bound together by vows written in blood and sealed with a bullet.
For better or worse.
In hatred and love.
Until death do us part.
And in the Bratva, we mean every word.
