Chapter 21
Zita
The silence in the cabin stretches between us like a wire ready to snap, punctuated only by the occasional creak of settling wood and the distant sound of our guards patrolling the perimeter.
I’ve been curled in this corner of the couch for hours, watching the fire die down to glowing embers while Tigran moves restlessly through the small space behind me.
Every footstep on the hardwood floors, every rustle of papers when he takes his encrypted calls, and every careful breath he draws seems amplified in this confined sanctuary where we’ve been hiding from the Federoffs for nearly a week.
My father’s funeral was three days ago, though it feels like a lifetime has passed since I watched them lower his casket into the frozen ground while armed men scanned the cemetery for threats.
While I heard the hollow sound of dirt hitting mahogany while the priest spoke words about eternal rest that felt meaningless when Claude Lo Duca died with violence and blood and a bullet in his chest. It’s been three days since I realized that the last conversation I’d ever have with my father was him apologizing for selling me into this world of guns, contracts, and men who solve problems with death.
“You need to eat something.” Tigran’s voice cuts through my spiral of thoughts, rough with exhaustion and something else I can’t quite identify. He stands in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, holding a plate of food I won’t be able to taste anyway.
“I’m not hungry.” The words come out flat and empty, matching the hollow space in my chest, where my grief has carved out everything that used to feel like hope.
“You haven’t had anything since yesterday morning, and even then you only picked at the toast.” He moves closer, setting the plate on the coffee table carefully. “Starving yourself won’t bring him back, and it won’t make this hurt less.”
The casual way he talks about my father being gone fills me with anger. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.”
“Like what?” Tigran settles into the chair across from me, his movements controlled and measured in that way that makes me want to throw something at him just to see if I can crack his perfect composure.
“Like he’s just another casualty of your world that I should accept and move on from because that’s how things work in the Bratva.
” I finally look at him directly, letting him see the fury that’s been building beneath my numbness for days.
“Like his death is just part of the cost of doing business with the Belsky family.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?” I stand abruptly, needing to move before the restless energy under my skin makes me scream.
“Your father killed your mother when you were nine years old. He shot her in front of you because she dared to question his methods, and you learned to live with it. You learned to function in spite of it, to take over his empire and honor his contracts even though you despised everything he stood for. You think I should do the same thing.”
Tigran’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, which is the only crack in his facade. “This is different.”
“How is it different?” I turn to face him fully, crossing my arms over my chest to stop myself from reaching for something to throw.
I’m lashing out at him and know I’m being unfair, but I can’t stop myself.
“How is watching my father die in a hail of gunfire because of his association with your family any different from watching your mother die because she tried to get your father to choose love over violence?”
“You’re not alone.” His voice drops lower, and something in his tone makes my breath catch despite my anger. “You have me, and I won’t abandon you the way our parents abandoned us.”
The words are as shocking as a slap, not because they’re cruel but because they’re exactly what I’ve been afraid to hope for in the dark hours when I lie awake listening to his breathing beside me.
What I’ve been terrified to trust because trusting means giving him the power to destroy me completely.
“You don’t get to say that to me.” My voice shakes with the effort of holding back tears that have been threatening to spill for days. “You don’t get to make promises about staying when this whole arrangement started because neither of us had any choice in the matter.”
“I had a choice.” Tigran stands slowly, his movements deliberate and careful like he’s approaching a wounded animal.
“I could have found a way out of that contract, paid whatever penalties Claude demanded, dealt with the political fallout, and found another way to secure the American expansion without dragging you into this world.”
“Then why didn’t you?” The question comes out raw and desperate, and I hate how much I need to hear his answer.
The silence that follows feels heavy. Tigran’s expression shifts, and for the first time since we’ve been hiding in this cabin, his careful control cracks enough for me to see something vulnerable underneath.
“Because I wanted you from the moment you walked into that first dinner and told me exactly what you thought of me and my family.” The admission comes out rough and honest, like he’s ripping the words from somewhere deep in his chest. “You refused to be intimidated by me, refused to play the role of submissive Mafia wife, and refused to become another pretty ornament in my world who’d smile, nod, and never challenge me on anything that mattered. ”
“Stop.” I take a step backward, and my legs hit the arm of the couch. “Don’t try to rewrite history to make this easier for both of us. You hated me from the beginning. You called me a spoiled, sharp-tongued liability, who’d never survive in your world.”
“I called you that because you terrified me more than any enemy I’d ever faced.
” He moves closer, and I can see the sincerity in his expression that he’s been hiding behind duty and discipline since our wedding night.
“You made me want things I’d convinced myself I could never have, that would make me weak in a world where weakness gets you killed. ”
“What things?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I immediately want to take it back because I’m not sure I can handle whatever he’s about to tell me.
“Love.” The word falls between us like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I understood about him and us.
“A real partner instead of a beautiful possession. Someone who’d stand beside me instead of behind me, who’d challenge me when I was wrong, support me when I was right, and never let me become the monster my father was. ”
My mouth is suddenly dry, and I hate how much I want to believe him. I want this to be real instead of another manipulation in the endless game of power and survival that defines his existence.
“You can’t love me.” I shake my head, backing away from him until I’m pressed against the stone fireplace. “You don’t know how to love anyone because you were trained from childhood to be a weapon.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Tigran doesn’t follow me, but his gaze never leaves my face. “I was trained to be exactly that from the time I was old enough to understand what my father expected from me. Everything in my life has been about how I can further the Bratva.”
“Then how—”
“Being with you has taught me something my father never could, that I never learned in all those years of training camps and military discipline and preparing to inherit an empire built on blood.” He takes a single step closer, and there’s something raw and desperate in his expression.
“That real strength isn’t about controlling others through fear.
It’s about trusting them enough to be vulnerable with them, and I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my life. ”
Suddenly, I can’t breathe properly, think past the roaring in my ears, or do anything except feel the weight of everything we’ve been through crashing down on me all at once.
“I hate you for this.” The words come out strangled and desperate, torn from somewhere deep in my throat.
“I hate that you’ve made me need you when I swore I’d never need anyone again after my mother walked away.
I hate that when I think about Avgar’s men finding this place and putting a bullet in your head, the thing that terrifies me most isn’t being left alone in this world.
It’s losing you before I ever got the chance to tell you that somewhere between hating you and fighting you and watching you bleed to protect me, I fell completely in love with you. ”
The admission hangs in the air between us, raw, open, and more terrifying than any threat the Federoffs could ever make.
I’ve never said those words to anyone before or felt anything close to what I feel for this man who was supposed to be my enemy, my captor, and my unwanted husband forced on me by a contract signed when I was twelve years old.
Tigran closes the distance between us in two long strides, and I don’t have time to retreat before he cups my face with a gentleness that makes my knees weak.
His thumbs brush away tears I didn’t realize were falling, and his touch is so careful it’s like he thinks I might shatter if he’s not infinitely gentle.
“Say it again.” His voice is barely above a whisper, rough with emotion I’ve never heard from him before.
“Say what?”
“That you love me.”
I want to take it back, to rebuild the walls between us and pretend this moment never happened because admitting I love him means admitting he has the power to destroy me completely. Looking into his eyes and seeing the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to hide, I can’t lie to either of us anymore.
“I love you.” The words come out stronger this time, steadier and surer than I expected. “I love you so much it scares me more than anything Avgar Federoff could ever do to us, because at least his bullets would be quick.”