Chapter 15 —Ravyn
I hadn’t been able to get the incident from yesterday out of my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I always found myself remembering the bloodied knife and the note that carried my name.
Why me?
Ravyn. Wife.
Those were the two words I could read on the note, since the rest was covered in blood. Whose blood was that anyway? But the most important question was: Why was my name on that piece of paper?
I’d become a part of Lev’s world when I decided to accept the deal and marry him. Now, his enemies had marked me as a potential target. He didn’t just ruin my life when he proposed this marriage; he also put it in danger.
Before Lev, I had no business worrying about an assassin coming after me in my sleep. However, after that package yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking the worst.
What if this mansion were attacked by gunmen, and I got hit by a stray bullet? What if the person who sent that package decided to take a step further and ordered my kidnapping? Was this fortress enough to keep me safe?
Wait a second, was I even the target, or just some leverage Lev’s enemies thought they could use against him? If it was the latter, then they were in for a surprise because Lev didn’t care about me that much.
Targeting me to get to him was a complete waste of time and effort. It wouldn’t work on the man; it would work perfectly on my father, but not on Lev. He was incapable of worrying about anything that wasn’t his family business.
Those guys, whoever they were, had better find another way to get to Lev and leave me the fuck out of their enmity.
The incident scared the shit out of me—more than I cared to admit. Last night, in my sleep, I had a series of nightmares, all of which involved an attack on my life.
I probably never should’ve opened that package. Because now I couldn’t unsee what I saw inside, and the alone kept me up at night.
Ignorance truly is bliss.
I wouldn’t have been so jumpy and scared if I’d never checked inside the box. Now the content of the package wouldn’t stop haunting me.
“Curiosity is not a sin. But it kills the cat.” That was what my college professor used to say all the time. I never truly understood that until now.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at the elegant woman looking back at me. Lev had hand-picked the outfit I was wearing today: a sleek black blazer paired with tailored pants, the clean creases giving me a polished, sharp look.
On my feet, a pair of classic black heels raised me inches higher with just the right touch of elegance. The outfit was simple, refined, and classy.
Lev had asked me to change into these clothes, saying that I was coming with him to a Bratva council meeting. Of course, I tried to object because what the hell would I be doing in a room full of mean old men with nothing better to do than plot other people’s demise?
But Lev wouldn’t take no for an answer. In fact, the son of a bitch only gave me ten minutes to get ready. It was useless fighting him because his mind was made up, and there was no way he was leaving this house without me.
I could’ve insisted that I wasn’t going anywhere with him. I could’ve stood my ground as always. But to what end?
Besides, I hadn’t been outside these walls since the so-called wedding. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to see the outside world again and breathe in some fresh air.
My hands darted upward, manicured fingers deftly styling my hair into a perfect bun atop my head. I powdered my face and painted my lips a shade of red that blended seamlessly with my light makeup.
The scent of my feminine perfume filled the air around me as I drew a deep breath. A part of me thought this was a bit too much, considering that I hated Lev and his Bratva people.
It was true that I hated the man. However, my father taught me to always dress in a way that I wanted to be addressed. Lev was taking me to a meeting with the Bratva council—a place where women most probably weren’t even welcome.
I had to make a good first impression as his wife. Not because I was seeking their validation, but simply to pass their assessments on whether I was a good wife. I picked my designer purse from the top of the dresser and headed out.
He was waiting in the living room with his back against the staircase as I descended the stairs with slow, measured steps. Maybe he somehow sensed my presence because soon after, he turned around, his eyes locking with mine in a split second.
His charcoal suit fit him perfectly, his dark brown hair catching the light overhead. He looked at me with a blank expression, and I refused to break eye contact until I was standing right in front of him.
Lev’s gaze swept over my body as if he were impressed by what he saw. Yet, he didn’t say a word about it—didn’t even acknowledge my look with a faint grin. He simply turned around and left, expecting me to follow. And I did.
***
This is insane.
All eyes were fixed on me as I sat next to Lev at the long mahogany table that stretched almost the length of the dimly lit room. The scent of whiskey and vodka filled the air as smoke lazily curled toward the ceiling, thick enough to sting my eyes.
The atmosphere was charged with tension as the men—rough, hardened, grizzled by years of violence—stared at me like I was an anomaly they didn’t know what to do with.
Two of them had spoken to Lev in Russian about a minute ago, when we walked in side by side. I didn’t have to speak Russian to know what the conversation was about. Me.
Clearly, my presence at such a gathering of high-profile Bratva elites was not welcomed in the slightest. I didn’t want to be here either, but my husband, their brother, insisted I tag along.
I felt not only their stares but also their judgments. Being the center of attention at every gathering was something I’d grown used to—even though I hated it. But this one was different. And not in a good way.
I barely survived Lev’s intense gaze, but now I had to sit down among ten other men just like him, enduring all their piercing stares. Still, I refused to shrink under the weight of their scrutiny.
Instead, I chose to keep my chin up, posture steady, unflinching, so they’d see that I wasn’t afraid of them.
Lev’s eyes shifted across the men as he responded to them in Russian, probably explaining why he’d asked me to come along with him. The mean-looking men in black suits didn’t seem pleased with his explanation. But as always, Lev didn’t give a shit.
After what felt like an eternity, the men finally decided to ignore me.
They started discussing an issue and how to fix it while I sat there, watching and listening silently.
I wanted to pretend like I wasn’t here—to distract myself with thoughts, memories, anything at all—because I wasn’t interested in their conversation. It was none of my business.
However, I couldn’t help being a part of this discussion.
These men were discussing a territorial dispute with a rival syndicate and how to resolve it. It appeared that the other gang was encroaching on Bratva territory, hijacking shipments, and cutting into their profits.
A good number of the men in this room advocated for violence while resisting suggestions. I didn’t expect anything less from men shaped by the flames of war. Of course, their first instinct would be to fight fire with fire.
“Those assholes have messed with the wrong people,” one of the men said, his voice deep and gravelly. “I say we send them a message.”
“Yes,” another concurred. “Let’s burn their trucks and gut their fuckin’ drivers.”
“Take their men off the damn streets. Leave their corpses where everyone will see.”
“They only understand one language. Fear,” another chipped in. “Let’s make it louder.”
It was the same refrain repeated again and again. Violence, death, destruction, blood. Nobody else suggested anything different—not a single soul. I was expecting Lev to speak up and maybe offer a more reasonable approach, but he remained silent.
They were all so focused on retaliation that they lost sight of the opportunity sitting right in front of them.
I lowered my head, fingers gripping the smooth edge of the table as I muttered under my breath, “You’re all circling the same grave.”
Voices fell silent immediately, as though they’d all heard me.
I felt their gazes on me, and when I raised my head, they were all staring at me.
One of the older ones, with a scarred, wolfish face and narrowed eyes, looked at me. “What was that?”
I braced myself, my throat wobbling as I swallowed hard. A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I still managed to hold his gaze. “I’d rather not overstep. It isn’t my place to speak.”
The man glanced at Lev, then returned his gaze to me. “You have permission to speak then.”
I shot a quick look at Lev, but he said nothing, and the intrigue etched on his face told me he was curious to hear me out.
I exhaled softly and straightened my spine, then said, “You’ve already lost shipments. Retaliation will only bleed you further.”
“Why is that?” one of the other men asked me, his voice laced with condescension, as if I had no right to suggest anything to them.
“Because they expect you to strike back,” I answered, eyes meeting with his for a split second. “In fact, they’re counting on it. It’s a game—their game—and you’re playing right into it.”
“We’re familiar with the game too, child,” said another.
“My point exactly.” I glanced at the man. “Violence breeds velocity. You burn their trucks, they’ll burn your warehouses. You shoot their men, they’ll hunt yours down.”
At this point, I could feel that my words were starting to take effect on them.
“So, what’re you saying?” the older man asked me.
“That you do something they won’t expect,” I replied.
“Which is?”
“Choking them without lifting a gun,” came my response. “I know someone who used this method and succeeded.” I glanced at Lev, hinting at the way he manipulated my father and me into taking his deal.
A faint grin tugged at the corners of his lips, almost as if he was impressed by my suggestion.
“And how do you propose we do that, genius?” another asked me, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.
I looked at him. “Tighten the noose on their supply lines, cut their access quietly, and let them starve.”
The men exchanged glances but said nothing, although I could tell they were beginning to accept the idea.
I continued, “Do that until they can’t move their goods, until their partners start to lose faith and their profit bleeds out on its own. Then, they’ll come crawling. And you…won’t have spent a single bullet.”
The silence was heavy, and all of them just sat there, staring at me with blank expressions on their mean faces. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I just let my words sink in and do their magic.
The older man leaned back in his chair, fingers stroking his jawline as he held my gaze.
One of the men who had been silent the whole time finally spoke. “I hate to agree with the girl, but you can’t argue with her logic.”
“The girl is right,” said another, almost grudgingly.
Lev lounged in his chair, slow and deliberate, his eyes fixed on me like a hook to a fish. His expression was blank—no smile or even a sign of approval. But beneath his icy stare, there was a flicker of pride.
When the meeting was over, before Lev and I stepped outside, I glanced back at the older man, and he smiled at me. It wasn’t creepy or scary. It was just simple, raw, and true. I honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that.
On the drive home, the car’s cabin was thick with a blend of his cologne and my perfume. I sat in the front passenger seat, eyes fixed on the road as if I was unaffected by the awkward silence between us.
I thought we should discuss the package from the other day and what it meant. But Lev didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk to me. Not that his silence was enough to stop me from bringing up the topic if I wanted to.
Despite his usual coldness, I felt like something was different about the way he looked at me. There was a flutter in my chest, a small spark of something that shouldn’t matter. I couldn’t help feeling like Lev was starting to become more than just some misogynistic prick.
He wasn’t the man who manipulated me into becoming his wife. Not really. Lev was something else now, and that something scared the living daylights out of me in ways I wasn’t ready to face.