Chapter 23
One year later…
“It’s time, Ptichka,” Alexi says, whispering the words against her ear. “Are you ready, Wife?”
Ulayna smiles at him, a look of understanding and connection passing between them. She’s never been more ready in her life.
Three months ago, they had a quiet ceremony to celebrate their love and their union.
It had taken Ulayna almost nine months to work up the courage to propose to Alexi.
But when she finally did, they’d decided not to wait and had eloped to the courthouse.
Only Alexi’s team, Mikhail, and Hadley had been present as witnesses.
Hadley, of course, had bragged about it nonstop to Cara and the other ladies in the Irish Mafia. But they’d understood.
The ceremony with the justice of the peace had been short, but heartfelt. And the weight of Alexi’s ring on her finger had felt momentous.
But to both of them, the wedding was superfluous. Wedding vows can be broken. A marriage can end in divorce. But swearing fealty to the Bratva… that vow can never be taken back.
Following her return from Russia a year ago, news of how she’d killed the commander had spread like wildfire. By the time she’d recovered, Alexi’s men had taken to either calling her Gremlin in acknowledgment of her small size and deadly abilities or calling her nashu sestru—our sister.
She’d embraced both titles wholeheartedly and had naturally stepped into the role as Alexi’s second-in-command.
He’d needed someone to share the burden of leadership with, and she’d needed someone to see her potential.
It had taken some time, but they now shared leadership of the Bratva seamlessly.
She’d earned the men's respect and had shattered that glass ceiling, just like she said she would.
And today, on the anniversary of the day she killed the commander, Ulayna is ready to say her vows—to Alexi as her Pakhan and to all his men as their sister.
“Let’s go,” Alexi says, a glint of pride in his eyes.
He holds out his hand. And when she takes it, he leads her down the stairs to the waiting crowd of men.
Nerves flutter in her belly. But not with fear. Rather, she’s full of excitement.
Alexi drops her hand, allowing her to step forward into the light.
She takes a second to look around at the newly redecorated space. Gone are the hideous baroque-style decorations. Instead, the entire mansion is now tastefully decorated. Not as a showpiece or as a magazine cover, but as a home.
Before her, nearly a hundred men are gathered to witness her vows. Each of them stares at her expectantly. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears when she sees Mikhail standing at the front, shoulders back and a proud expression on his face.
Joy and a sense of loyalty flood her. This is her family. She’ll always have Mikhail as her true brother. But these men, every single one of them, are her brothers, too.
Chin held high, she steps fully into the light and drops the shawl from around her shoulders. Her dress is sleeveless and low cut, with a V that reaches nearly to her navel. Hadley made it for her specifically for this night to show off her new tattoos.
It had taken dozens of sittings with Alexi’s personal tattoo artist to complete the work, but it was worth every minute of pain. Each tattoo is significant, and each tells her story to the men in the Bratva.
The black rose entwined in thorns on one shoulder represents her partnership with Alexi and signifies that she is under his protection.
On her other shoulder, an image of a Northern Shrike is a nod to Alexi’s nickname for her and a representation of her fierceness as well as a warning to others not to underestimate her.
An intricate cross is inked over her heart and across the tops of her breasts to symbolize her loyalty to the Bratva above all else.
And finally, a series eight-pointed stars across her collarbones represent her sovereignty within the Bratva.
Never has a woman been allowed to wear the eight-pointed stars, because never before has a woman earned them. But she did.
She earned them, not just by winning the challenges or by killing the commander.
She earned them by showing the men that she could lead with grace, handle herself under pressure, and persevere when all the odds were against her.
She earned them by proving that she can lead at Alexi’s side, as his partner and queen.
She is proud to have every one of these tattoos permanently inked across her skin. And she will continue to live up to what they represent for the rest of her life.
“My brothers,” she says, her voice ringing out through the still night. “One year ago today, many of you came to Russia to rescue me. But I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”
She meets Mikhail’s eyes in the crowd, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “One year ago today, my brother offered to give up his life for mine.”
She looks back over the crowd of men and smiles fully. “And one year ago today, I earned my place at your Pakhan’s side. I stand before you now, as your sister and as your queen, and offer you my life. It is an honor to serve you, as you serve me.”
From a table staged nearby for this moment, she picks up a small glass of vodka. She raises it to the sky in salute and says, “Do kontsa,” then downs the vodka in a single gulp.
“To the end!” The crowd of men all salute her back, joining her in the vow of the brotherhood.
“You did well,” Alexi says, coming up behind her and kissing her on the top of the head. “My men all love you.”
“And you?” she asks, turning in his arms. “Do you love me?”
“More than life itself,” he says, capturing her mouth with his in a deep, languid kiss.
Cheers ring out from the crowd of men, and she breaks the kiss with a smile.
“Come on,” Alexi says. “The men will want to congratulate you.”
Happily, she lets herself be tugged forward—toward her new life, her new family, and her new purpose.