15. Aurora
15
AURORA
"So if I understand what I heard correctly, Gregor is offering you the bratva," I start. "But only if you marry Tamara?"
I shouldn't feel a twinge in my chest. This sharp, unexpected jealousy that slices through me when I think about Ruslan with someone else.
Especially not a woman that I haven't even seen.
Ruslan stands there, his broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The single tear from earlier has dried, leaving behind a hollow look that makes my chest ache.
"Yes, that's the offer." He looks at me.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to organize the fragments of overheard conversation into something coherent. "But you don't want to."
"I don't."
I imagine her—beautiful, bratva royalty, probably wearing custom designer clothes—touching and kissing Ruslan.
Jealousy stabs at me again, hot and angry.
I have no right to this jealousy. I've known him for what, a week? But the thought of him marrying someone else makes my chest tight in a way I can't explain away.
"Why don't you want to marry her?" I ask, my voice sounding small in the vastness of the foyer.
A shadow crosses Ruslan's face. The softness from his grief I'd glimpsed moments ago vanishes, replaced by something hard and impenetrable. His jaw tightens and the muscles in his neck flex beneath his skin.
"I have my reasons."
That tone. I know it intimately. It's the same wall I throw up when someone gets too close to my own secrets. The same firm boundary that says: don't push further.
The recognition of that shared pain tugs at something inside me. There has to be a story there. A wound that must cut as deep as my own.
He steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering smell of the flower arrangement. For a moment, I dare to think he might open up.
But he doesn't.
"What do you think about Gregor's proposal?" he asks, steering us away from dangerous territory.
I'm caught off guard by the abrupt change. "Why would my opinion matter? I mean, I don't know anything about your world."
"That's exactly why I'm asking," he says. "You're not blinded by bratva politics. You see things differently."
His golden eyes hold mine, and something unspoken passes between us. The weight of his attention warms my skin and quickens my pulse. It's terrifying how easily he affects me.
"It sounds awfully convenient for Semyon," I finally say.
Ruslan's eyes narrow. "Go on."
"The timing..." I hesitate. "Look, I know nothing about your world, but isn't it strange that both your brother and nephew die within hours of each other? Then here comes this tidy solution from Semyon of all people that just happens to be exactly what Gregor wants?"
A muscle twitches in Ruslan's jaw. He stands and crosses to where I'm standing, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body.
"You have good instincts," he says quietly. "For an outsider to our world."
I swallow hard. "Maybe the problem is I've spent too much time running from monsters. Eventually, you develop a sense for when something smells like a trap."
I watch Ruslan's face transform from grief to something harder and colder. It's the face of a man who navigates a world I've only read about in scripts.
"And what exactly is the..." I stumble over the unfamiliar word I overheard earlier, "Zah-pad-nee?"
The corner of Ruslan's mouth twitches upward, and despite everything, my stomach does a little flip at his smile.
" Zapadniye Vori ," he says smoothly, his lips wrapping around each letter like silk. "It means 'western thieves' in Russian. It's Gregor's grand name for his coalition of Russian crime families here on the west coast. He brought them together to stop us from killing each other. You can call them the Vori for short. Much easier that way."
"Whatever the name is," I raise an eyebrow. "It seems like his plan didn't exactly work out."
"The peace holds, most of the time." Ruslan runs a hand through his hair as he studies my expression. "But you're right. The system breaks down every once in a while."
I pace the foyer, mind racing to stitch together the fragments of what I've learned. It's easier to think about Ruslan's problem than my own precarious situation.
"So let me get this straight," I say, ticking points off on my fingers. "Both Semyon and Gregor want control of your family's bratva, but they're approaching it from different angles."
Ruslan nods, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "That's right."
"Gregor's offering you the bratva, but with conditions. If you refuse and Semyon gets control through Mikayla, Gregor's threatening to use your younger nieces as pawns."
"By marrying them off to men who would challenge Mikayla's claim," Ruslan clarifies, his voice hardening. "Which would lead to their deaths eventually."
I shiver at the casual way he talks about murder before I continue. "And Semyon is only agreeing to a temporary truce because he's probably planning to do the same thing with your nieces against you if he needed to."
"Probably."
I tap my finger against my lips, thinking. "I'm assuming that Gregor's counting on Tamara's obsession with you to produce a child before she's too old. And because you would be the pakhan, your child would have a stronger claim than your nieces."
Ruslan's expression darkens, but he doesn't interrupt.
"But what do you want?"
"I want to keep my nieces safe while I find out whether Semyon ordered Lev and Mikhail's deaths."
"And if he did?"
Ruslan's eyes grow cold. "Then I'll avenge my family."
I study the hardened lines around his mouth. "But to do that, you need the Vori to help you fight Semyon once you have the evidence, don't you? Which means you need Gregor's support."
Ruslan's eyebrows rise. "You continue to surprise me, zarechka ."
When I finish, I look up to find Ruslan watching me with something like admiration.
"How could you see all this so quickly?" he asks.
I shrug, feeling a flush of pride despite everything. "Reading between the lines is a survival skill."
I can't tell him that it all comes from seven years of watching for the tiniest signs that Kristofer might have found me.
"Is there..." I hesitate, uncertain if I'm crossing some invisible line. "Is there a world in which the Vori can support you without Gregor's backing?"
Ruslan's golden eyes lock with mine. "The other families in the Vori don't particularly care who runs the Dragunov bratva. They only care that the succession follows clean and orderly lines."
"But what if..." I pause, a new idea forming. "What if you don't marry Tamara at all?"
Ruslan's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you volunteering to take her place, zarechka ?"
My face flushes hot, and suddenly I'm picturing myself in a white dress, flowers in my hair, Ruslan waiting at an altar with that devastating smile. His hands taking mine, pulling me close, those golden eyes promising forever...
"I—I—" I stammer, horrified at how easily my mind conjured the fantasy. "That's not what I meant. I'm just thinking out loud."
My heart hammers against my ribs. What is wrong with me? I can't afford to dream about marriages and happily-ever-afters, especially not with a man who lives in this world of violence and power.
Not after everything I've seen.
But yet…
Ruslan opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. His brow furrows as he considers my suggestion more seriously.
"That's actually..." he begins slowly, stroking his chin. "That's not a bad idea."
"It's not?"
"No." He steps closer. "If we were to marry, it would throw both Semyon and Gregor completely off-balance."
My heart skips several beats, then races to catch up. "I—what?"
"Think about it." His voice drops lower. "As pakhan, I could bring my nieces under my direct protection. They're Lev's daughters, so it would be expected. The Vori couldn't object because I'd be safeguarding the line of succession."
"And at the same time," I say, following his logic despite my thundering pulse, "you'd have a freer hand to take action against Semyon."
"Exactly." His eyes gleam.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself, trying to process what he's suggesting. Marriage. To Ruslan. The word feels both terrifying and intoxicating.
"And what do you want out of all this, zarechka ?" His voice softens as he asks the question.
What do I want?
Freedom. To stop looking over my shoulder. To never again have to scan a crowd for Kristofer's face. To sleep without nightmares of blood-spattered walls.
But I can't say any of that.
"I just..." I shrug, feeling small. "I want to be able to go back to being a nobody again. Someone no one notices."
Ruslan's expression changes subtly. He steps closer, his eyes searching mine like he knows I'm not telling the whole truth.
But instead of pressing me for an answer, he says nothing.
His fingers tip my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "I can offer you many things, Aurora. Protection. Safety. A new life if you ask it of me. But there's one thing I cannot give you..." His thumb brushes my lower lip, sending shivers through me. "It's invisibility. Not once you enter this world."
I swallow hard. "What do you mean?"
"Once you're part of the bratva, you'll never be a nobody again." His eyes bore into mine. "You'll be my wife. Everyone will know your face. Your name. A target is painted on your back the moment you say 'I do.'"
The irony makes me want to laugh. I've spent seven years running from one man who wants to possess me, only to consider willingly tying myself to another.
I take a deep breath, studying Ruslan's face in the dim light of the foyer. The mansion feels too big around us, like we're standing in the eye of a hurricane while chaos swirls outside.
"If you can't offer me invisibility," I say, my voice steadier than I feel, "then I'll take the protection you offered me."
A flicker of surprise crosses his face.
"That's what you promised when you saved my life, right?" I continue. "Protection?"
Ruslan nods slowly. "Yes. That's exactly what I promised you."
"Then I'll take it." I push my shoulders back, standing taller. "If being visible next to you means being protected from the world, then that's what I'll choose."
His golden eyes search mine for a long moment. The intensity in them makes my stomach flutter with a mixture of fear and something else.
Something I haven't allowed myself to feel in seven years.
"Aurora Castellanos," he says, his voice dropping to that low, velvety rumble that makes my skin tingle. "Will you marry me?"
My heart slams against my ribs. A million thoughts race through my mind at once. This is insane. We barely know each other. He's a criminal. I'd be trading one cage for another.
Run , Jamie Fields whispers in my ear. Run like you did seven years ago.
But where would I go? How long can I stay hidden before Kristofer finds me? How many more identities can I steal before I lose myself completely?
And deeper still, beneath all the practical considerations, there's that flicker of something I thought had died with my family. A dangerous hunger that sparked to life in that alleyway last week and hasn't stopped burning since.
"Yes, Ruslan Dragunov," I say, surprising myself with how right it feels on my tongue. "I'll marry you."
Ruslan's expression shifts, softens for just a moment before hardening into resolve. He takes my hand in his, and I notice how small mine looks against his tattooed fingers.
"Then it's settled," he says. "You're under my protection now, zarechka . No one will harm you while I draw breath."
I should be terrified by what I've just agreed to. By all rights, I should be looking for the nearest exit.
But as Ruslan's thumb traces circles on my palm, all I feel is something I haven't felt in seven long years.
I feel safe.
He rises and pulls me closer until there's no space left between us.
When his lips touch mine, something shifts inside me.
This isn't like our kiss in his car, tentative yet bold in the safety of privacy. It's not like our stolen moment at Nikoforov either, reckless with heat and hunger.
No, this kiss is different. It's solemn and laden with promises.
A vow sealed without a need for words.
His mouth moves against mine with deliberate slowness, as if memorizing the shape of my lips. I feel the gentle touch of his palm as he cups my cheeks, the solid warmth of his chest under my palms. The scent of cedarwood and mahogany fills my nose, along with the taste of grief and something uniquely him that makes my knees weak.
What are you doing? Jamie Fields screams from a distant corner of my mind. You can't trust him! He's a killer. A monster! Everything you should be running from. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?
I feel her panic rising like a tide, threatening to drown me in doubt. Jamie knows about men who kill. Men who destroy everything they touch. Men who see women as possessions, not people.
But I push her voice down, burying it beneath the steady rhythm of Ruslan's heartbeat against my palm. My tongue coaxes against his, and a tiny moan of pleasure bubbles up from deep inside of me.
He's not just any monster, I tell her silently. He's my monster.
My fingers curl into the fabric of Ruslan's shirt as I press myself closer, deepening the kiss. His hands slide up my back, cradling me against him like something precious, something worth protecting.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless. Ruslan's golden eyes are dark with promise as his thumb traces the curve of my cheek.
Seven years ago, I fled from one monster who wanted to possess me. Today, I'm choosing another who wants to shield me.
The irony isn't lost on me.
After years of running, I'm finding safety in the arms of a man who likely has more blood on his hands than Kristofer ever will.
But there's a single difference between them that matters.
Ruslan would kill to keep me safe rather than kill to keep me in chains.