31. Ruslan
31
RUSLAN
My chest tightens when I see Aurora step out, tears gleaming on her face and arms wrapped around herself like she's holding something broken inside.
" Zarechka, what happened?" I move toward her, reaching for her hand.
She shakes her head, fingers trembling as she wipes at her face. "Your mother wants to see you."
That familiar protective fury rises in me. It's the same one I felt after Sienna took Aurora's photo.
"Aurora."
"Please." Her voice cracks. "Just go talk to her."
She slips past me, her coconut scent lingering as she hurries down the hall, and I fight the urge to follow. Instead, I turn to that hateful office and storm in.
Mother stands by the window, her hands clasped behind her back. My eyes drift towards the two wooden chairs in front of the imposing desk. For a moment, I swear I can still smell blood.
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth." Liliya folds her hands on the polished wood. "Something you should have done yourself."
"What truth?" I lean forward, palms flat on the desk. "Tell me exactly what you said to make her cry."
"I told her that this is where Leslie died." Her eyes never leave mine. "I told her there is no safety in this life, especially for outsiders. I told her that running would be wiser than marrying you."
My jaw clenches so tight I hear my teeth creak. "You had no right."
"I had every right," Mother says, lifting her chin in that familiar gesture that means the conversation is over before it's started.
"No, you didn't." My voice rises with each word. "You had no right to hurt Aurora!"
"I did it to protect this family!" Mother's composure cracks slightly. "I did it to prevent you from making the same mistakes that nearly destroyed us all. I saw what happened to the Garza girl."
"Her name was Leslie."
"I know her name." Mother's eyes flash with unexpected emotion. "I remember all of their names. All the dead. All the ones we couldn't protect."
I slam my palm against the desk. "Then why did you hurt Aurora?"
"Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to see that girl's tears?" Mother's voice quivers. "I'm trying to save you both from more pain. You cannot be that foolish boy anymore, Ruslan. You must be the pakhan the family needs."
"The pakhan," I repeat, the title bitter on my tongue. "I never wanted this title."
"Yet now you are forced to bear it," she says. "A pakhan cannot be moved by love. Love is weakness in our world."
She might as well have slapped me instead. It would hurt less.
"You sound exactly like father!"
Mother's face crumples, mask slipping completely as a sob escapes her lips. She covers her mouth with trembling fingers.
"I know." Her eyes fill with tears.
Guilt twists in my stomach. " Mamechka ."
"This hurts me as much as it hurts you, Lanchik." She wipes her eyes with dignified grace. "I've never wanted to see you suffer."
She moves closer, reaching for my hand.
"Our family is more complex than you allow yourself to see," she says, her voice soft but relentless. "Mikayla, Stella, and Sofia. They are still Tamara's daughters. They have an affection for her that you will never understand."
She steps closer and her eyes soften with something resembling pity.
"If you want to keep them safe, truly safe," she says. "Then you cannot be ruled by your heart. This is the reality of our world."
Her gaze drifts to the chair where Leslie died, and my stomach twists violently.
"Your father beat his wife," she says quietly. "Your brother raped his."
"I am neither of them," I growl, fists clenching at my sides.
Mother looks at me, such profound sadness in her eyes that I nearly look away.
"No, you've somehow become something worse." She touches my cheek, a feather-light caress that somehow hurts more than a slap. "You're willing to bring in an outsider to be brutalized after you've done it once already. You're willing to let another innocent girl be hurt for your own selfish aims."
"This is different," I protest, but my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"Different how?" Mother challenges. "You couldn't protect Leslie. What makes you think you can protect Aurora?"
"You're wrong, Mother. I will protect her," I growl, standing my ground. "No matter what it takes."
"And what happens when this war with Semyon claims Tamara's life? Have you thought about that?"
My jaw clenches tight enough to crack teeth. "Why should I care what happens to Tamara?"
"Because her children will care!" Mother steps toward me, voice sharp as a blade. "Do you think Mikayla would ever forgive you if her mother dies because of your vendetta? Do you think Stella would? Or Sofia?"
The truth of her words stings, but I can't back down. Not now.
"Semyon has already made his move." I lean forward, voice dropping low. "When I went to find Aurora after Mikhail was killed, there was a Mikonov hitman trying to kill her ."
Mother freezes, her lips parting in shock.
"No matter what you think, no matter what I do, Semyon has set his sights on our bratva. And Gregor will never let him take it. This war is coming whether I act or not."
Something in her eyes makes me pause. A sheer desperation. Then her legs simply give way beneath her.
I lunge forward as she collapses to the floor with a broken sob, catching her before she hits the ground.
" Mamechka! " I cradle her against my chest, terror gripping me as I feel how fragile she's become. When did she grow so thin? So small?
Her fingers clutch my shirt as she weeps, not the controlled tears of a bratva matriarch, but the raw, devastating sobs of a woman who's lost a son and grandson in the span of days.
"I can't lose you too, Lanchik" she whispers against my shoulder. "Don't make me bury another son."
"You won't, Mamechka ," I say, softening my tone. "I swear it."
I cradle my mother until her sobs quiet to shuddering breaths. She pulls away, wiping her eyes with a dignity that only she could summon after breaking down so completely.
"Are you serious about protecting this girl?" she asks, voice still trembling. "Or is she simply a means to an end?"
The question stings more than I'd like to admit. Is that how others see my relationship with Aurora? Simply a strategic move?
"I'm serious about protecting her." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "More serious than I've been about anything in a long time."
Mother studies my face with those perceptive eyes that have always seen straight through me. "What is it about her that has you so enamored, Lanchik? What makes this woman different?"
I search for words, trying to articulate feelings I barely understand myself.
"She's..." I pause, running my hand through my hair. "She challenges me. Not just my position or my power, but me ."
Mother's expression softens slightly as I continue.
"She sees things others don't. When Mikayla was lashing out, Aurora understood immediately that it wasn't anger but fear. While I was ready to assert control, Aurora knew to give her space."
I think about Aurora standing on her own against Tamara's glares, about her gentle hands comforting my nieces, about her fierce determination even when terrified.
"She's brave in ways I never expected. Damaged, yes. We're both damaged. But not broken."
My throat tightens when I think about how she looked in my bed, trembling from her nightmare but still reaching for me.
"But it's more than that," I admit quietly. "I can't explain it. She's just... Aurora. And when I'm with her, I feel like I could be more than what Vitaly tried to make me."
Something in mother's eyes shifts. Understanding. Or perhaps resignation.
My mother's gaze softens, weariness settling into the lines around her eyes as she studies me. The fight seems to drain from her, replaced by a quiet resignation.
"I can't change your mind, Lanchik." She smooths her skirt, composure returning as she rises. "Not now."
"No," I agree, helping her to her feet. "Not about this."
The afternoon light catches in her graying hair as she moves to the window, her silhouette outlined against the glass. For a moment, I see her as a young woman again, trapped in this life just as I've been.
How many choices has she sacrificed? How many battles has she chosen not to fight?
"If you're serious about protecting this girl." She turns to face me.
"Aurora," I tell her. "Her name is Aurora."
"Aurora," she concedes with a slight nod. "If you're serious about protecting her, Ruslan, then you must protect her. Completely. Without hesitation or compromise."
"I will."
Mother sighs, then reaches for her left hand. Slowly, deliberately, she twists her engagement ring with its massive diamond from her finger. The same ring my father gave her forty years ago.
"Here," she says, pressing the gleaming circle into my palm. "If you mean what you say, then this ring belongs to her now."
My fingers close around the metal, still warm from her skin. "Mother."
The weight of the ring feels impossibly heavy in my hand.
"You would give this to an outsider?" I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
"No." My mother's eyes meet mine, filled with a quiet strength I've always admired. "I would give it to the woman my son loves."
* * *
I watch Mother's car disappear down the long driveway, the gravel crunching under her tires as she leaves. Her visit has left me unsettled, a familiar weight settling on my shoulders.
The gold ring burns in my pocket. Mother's final words echo in my mind: "I would give it to the woman my son loves."
Love.
The word feels foreign on my tongue. Dangerous.
I stride back into the mansion, scanning the foyer for Aurora. Her absence feels tangible, like a physical space beside me that should be filled.
"Daria," I call, spotting my housekeeper emerging from the kitchen. "Where is Aurora?"
Daria's expression softens slightly. "She went to the gardens, Ruslan Vitalyevich. After speaking with your mother, she seemed... troubled."
My jaw tightens. "Thank you."
I follow the stone path winding through the back of the property, past the guards who nod respectfully. The gardens have always been a sanctuary from the bratva. A place where violence doesn't touch, and where there is absolute privacy.
And it's exactly where I find Aurora
She sits at the fountain's edge, fingers trailing through the water, creating ripples that catch the afternoon sunlight. Her hair glows like spun gold, loose around her shoulders. Even from this distance, I can see the tension in her posture.
Like a wounded animal ready to flee.
I want to protect her so badly that it hurts.
" Zarechka ," I call softly.
She turns, startled. When she sees me, something flickers across her face—pain, longing, fear—before she schools her features.
"Ruslan." Her voice is flat, controlled. The warmth from this morning is gone.
I approach slowly, giving her space to bolt if she needs to. But she stays put, watching me with those wary hazel eyes.
"My mother's words upset you."
It's not a question.
Aurora looks away, staring into the fountain. "She's right."
"About what?"
"Everything." She stands abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't belong here. I'm an outsider who has no idea what she's doing."
"Aurora, that's not true."
"I should leave. Before the wedding. Before someone else dies because of me."
I close the distance between us in two strides, taking her hand. She tries to pull away, but I hold firm.
"Look at me," I whisper.
When she finally meets my gaze, I see tears threatening to spill over.
"My mother doesn't know everything," I tell her, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. "And she certainly doesn't know us."
I watch her eyes flicker with doubt, and I can't stand it. She's been through hell, running from a monster that killed her family, and now my mother has planted seeds in her mind that we're doomed.
That this life will destroy her.
" Zarechka ," I say, stepping closer, "my mother lived her entire life under my father's control. Being beaten, humiliated. Her world is shaped by that pain."
Aurora's eyes search mine, looking for reassurance, for truth.
"But that's not our story," I tell her firmly. "I am not my father. And you..." I cup her face, feeling her warmth against my palm. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."
"I'm not," she whispers, shaking her head. "I've been running for seven years, Ruslan. Hiding. That's not strength."
"Surviving is strength." My voice grows fierce. "You rebuilt yourself from nothing after losing everything. You think that's weakness? I've seen men in the bratva break from much less."
Her hand comes up to cover mine, and I feel that connection between us again. That understanding that runs deeper than words.
"She said I'm bringing danger to your doorstep."
I pull Aurora against me, burying my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of coconut. "Danger was already here. Lev and Mikhail weren't killed because of you."
"But what if you get hurt?"
"No." I pull back, meeting her gaze. "I won't let you blame yourself for crimes you didn't commit. Not for your family, not for mine."
I reach into my pocket, feeling the weight of my mother's ring. I hadn't planned this moment, but suddenly I know it's right.
"My mother gave me something before she left."
I pull the gold ring from my pocket and watch the sunlight catch along its edges, warming the metal until it almost glows. My mother's ring. The one that adorned her finger for over forty years.
"She wanted you to have this."
Aurora's eyes widen as she stares at the gleaming circle nestled in my palm. "But... why would she give this to me after telling me I don't belong here?"
"Because despite her fears, she sees what I see." My voice drops lower. "She knows I've made my choice."
Aurora's lips part slightly as she processes this contradiction. The sun catches in her hair, and for a moment I forget to breathe.
"My mother believes the world is made of monsters who devour everything good that enters it," I explain. "She's not entirely wrong. But what she fails to see is that some monsters can protect what matters to them."
I take Aurora's hand and slowly slip the ring onto her finger.
The ring fits perfectly, as though it was always meant to be there. Against her pale skin, the diamond shines brighter, as if lit by an inner fire that matches the woman wearing it.
"This is the final piece of our costume." My throat tightens. "Yet somehow, this feels more real than anything else."
Aurora looks down at our joined hands, then back up at me. A tear slips down her cheek.
"I don't know if I can."
"You can," I interrupt, wiping away the tear with my thumb. "And you will. Because whatever comes for us, whether it's Semyon, Gregor, Tamara, or the monster chasing you from your past. We face them together."
She studies my face, searching for deception, for weakness. Finding none, she nods once, decisively.
"Together," she whispers.
I pull Aurora in for a kiss, drawing her body against mine like she's already mine, already my wife in every way that matters.
Her lips part against mine. Soft, yielding, and somehow demanding in their gentleness. I cup her face with one hand, feeling how delicate she is beneath my tattooed fingers.
The contradiction between us should be jarring. My calloused hands against her silk-soft skin, a man built for violence holding something so precious.
"Mine," I murmur against her mouth.
Not a question. A declaration.
She relaxes against me, melting into my chest as though she belongs there. And she does. She fucking does.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opens for me. A soft whimper escapes her throat and I want to devour her right here in the garden, but I hold myself back.
"Your mother's right about one thing," Aurora whispers when we break apart, her forehead resting against my chest. "I don't know this world."
"You know me." I tilt her chin up, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. "That's enough."
She glances down at the diamond on her finger before turning her gaze back to me.
"Suddenly this doesn't feel like it's just for show anymore, does it?"
"No," I answer honestly as I trace my thumb over cheeks. "But maybe it never was."
I kiss her again, harder this time. Possessive. Claiming. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as though she can't get enough either, before they start moving down.
I don't break the kiss as her fingers unzip my pants in the afternoon air.
I don't break the kiss as she guides me inside her.
And when I start to move, all I care about is the taste of surrender on her tongue, and the beating rhythm of the trust in her heart.
Our fingers intertwine together and I know that nothing in this world can take her from me.
My zarechka . My little dawn.