Chapter 27 – Violet
It’s been three weeks.
Three weeks since the nightmare.
Three weeks since I was dragged from my home and nearly sold like something less than human.
Three weeks since Kaz tore through the world to bring me back.
And now…I’m here. Alive. Safe. Loved.
And…four months pregnant.
The sun is warm on my skin as I lie back on the blanket spread across the grass in the Rusnak estate garden.
The air smells like lemon trees and sugar.
Kaz had the kitchen send out something sweet because I’ve been craving everything lately—fruit, pastries, him.
He’s lounging beside me, shirt sleeves rolled up, pretending to read a book, but I can feel his eyes on me every few seconds.
He’s been like this since Mexico. Quietly protective. Always nearby. A hand on my lower back when we walk. A palm spread over my stomach when we sleep. Like he still can’t believe I’m here, in one piece. Like he still doesn’t trust the world to let me stay.
But today, the air is peaceful. My belly is round under my dress, and when I press my hand to it, I swear I feel a flutter—soft and reassuring.
I hear the click of the garden gate before I see them.
“Visitors?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.
Kaz stands and dusts the grass from his pants. “Yes.”
Then I see them—two figures walking through the vine-covered archway.
Zoe. Jennie.
I’m on my feet before I realize it, moving across the lawn with my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and my heart.
When we reach each other, I fall into their arms, and we all hug so tightly it almost hurts. I feel their tears mix with mine.
“You’re okay,” Jennie whispers, her voice thick and cracking.
Zoe pulls back just a bit, hands on my shoulders. “You’re…oh my God, Violet. You’re really pregnant?”
I laugh, nodding as I wipe my eyes. “Yeah. Four months.”
They look at me like I’ve returned from the dead. Maybe I have, in a way.
Kaz watches from a few feet away, arms folded, his eyes steady on me. Guarded, but warm.
“You invited them?” I ask him.
He nods once. “I thought you could use some joy.”
My heart pulls in a way I don’t have words for. “Thank you,” I say softly.
He crosses the distance, brushes his knuckles across my cheek, then leans down to press a kiss to my temple. “I’ll give you girls some time.”
And then he walks away, heading back toward the house, leaving me standing in the garden with the only two people who knew me before all of this.
I lower myself onto the blanket again, feeling the tug of gravity in my lower belly. Zoe and Jennie settle on either side of me like puzzle pieces snapping into place. It feels easy. Familiar. Like I haven’t almost died twice in the past few months.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “For not reaching out. For vanishing. For making you worry.”
Jennie waves her off before I can even finish. “Please. You think you’re the first one of us to get dragged into the black hole of Bratva romance?”
Zoe smirks. “We’ve been there. We get it. Once you fall in love with a Bratva man, it’s over. They just…consume everything.”
I smile, a little stunned by their grace. “He’s kind of like that,” I admit.
“Kind of?” Jennie raises a brow.
The garden door swings open again, and two staff members carry in drinks and snacks—iced tea, cucumber sandwiches, fresh fruit. I blink, a little overwhelmed by how…gentle everything feels after all the violence.
Jennie grabs a strawberry from the tray and pops it into her mouth. “Remember when you said you’d never, ever, ever fall for a Bratva man?” she teases, grinning around the fruit. “Said you’d rather die alone with thirty cats than deal with all the blood and brooding.”
I laugh, covering my face. “Okay, that sounds exactly like me.”
“It was exactly you,” Zoe says. “Now spill. All of it.”
They both lean in, eyes wide with curiosity and affection.
I take a breath.
“Well…it started the night I went to photograph a robbery and murder scene. I wasn’t supposed to even be there for long. Just shoot and go.” My voice drops. “But then…I saw something. Something I wasn’t meant to see.”
Jennie’s eyes widen. Zoe’s mouth parts slightly.
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a hit. And I caught Kaz on camera. His face.”
“Oh my God,” Zoe breathes.
“And everything spiraled from there,” I say softly. “He found me. Took me. Hid me. Protected me. Threatened me. Fell in love with me. It’s all a blur now, but also crystal clear. Like it’s the only story I’ve ever lived.”
Jennie whistles. “Girl. You always did like drama, but this is…cinematic.”
They both laugh with me, but it’s not mean. It’s love. It’s home.
Zoe nudges me gently. “And now?”
I glance down at my belly, resting a protective hand over it. “Now I’m four months pregnant, hopelessly in love, and…still trying to believe it’s all real.”
Zoe leans over and rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s real, Vi. And you’ve always been stronger than you thought.”
I swallow, emotions thick in my throat. “It’s just nice to feel like myself again.”
Jennie reaches for my hand. “You’re not the same you, babe. You’re something more now. You’re Violet Rusnak.”
I blink. The name hits me like lightning in the chest. I glance at the wedding ring on my finger. The one I found quietly there after I woke up on the plane three weeks ago.
“Slow down, Jennie. We’re not married yet.”
“But in two weeks you’ll be.” She rolls her eyes. “I might as well call you a Rusnak. I can’t believe we’ll be sister-in-laws.”
I laugh as Jennie and Zoe gush about how it is such a coincidence that all three of them end up with a Bratva lord.
My joy would have been complete if Noelle were here.
But she’s in Italy right now, and we talk every day.
I’ve been trying to get her to tell me what she wanted to say that fateful day before Kaz interrupted.
“Violet, there’s something you need to know about me. I am not just—”
Words I’ve held on to. She promised to tell me everything when she returns from Italy in a few months. She’s happy that I’ve found my peace with Kaz, but she doesn’t understand how I can love a man who kidnapped me. Though she doesn’t ask too many questions.
We stay in the garden longer than we should. The breeze has stilled, the shade has shifted, and the sun is now beating down with a vengeance. Jennie fans herself with a linen napkin while Zoe squints up at the sky.
“Alright,” Zoe groans. “This glow is about to turn into a sunburn. Let’s go inside before my skin sues me.”
We gather our plates and drinks, chatting idly as we head toward the house, our laughter trailing behind us. I feel warm. Not just from the sun, but from something else—something fuller and lighter inside my chest. Like peace. Or healing.
As we step into the foyer, the sound of laughter greets us—deep, rich, masculine laughter.
Zoe slows, glancing at me with a raised brow. Jennie smirks knowingly.
We turn the corner and find them.
Kaz, leaning against the marble pillar with that rare, relaxed posture he only wears around people he trusts.
Beside him stands Lukin, the tall, broad-shouldered man who always walks like he’s five seconds from ordering an execution.
And on Kaz’s other side, there’s Adrian—his brother—grinning wide with mischief in his eyes.
The three men are talking, joking, their voices low but animated.
“—and I’m telling you,” Adrian says, clapping Kaz on the back, “you ended the entire Solokov network. In one night. I’m still mad you called Niko and not me. That fucking bastard.”
Kaz chuckles. “Because they touched what was mine.”
Lukin lets out a bark of laughter. “It’s great to see you like this. Just months ago, you were mocking Adrian—said love made a man weak.”
“I’d do it again,” Kaz says simply.
That makes all three of them burst out laughing. Deep, knowing, brotherly laughter—the kind that carries shared blood, history, and scars.
I feel the heat bloom in my cheeks again. Zoe nudges me with her elbow.
“I think that’s our cue,” she whispers.
Jennie links her arm with mine, and we start toward the staircase. “Let the mafia boys have their bonding moment.”
We drift away, leaving the men to their low voices and dark drinks.
Upstairs, we settle into the sitting room just off the main hallway.
One of the maids brings more snacks—mini éclairs, hot tea, and a fruit platter so fresh that it still glistens.
The girls make me lie back on the couch while they lounge like we’re back in college, gossiping about everyone from ex-boyfriends to Bratva heads.
It feels normal. Familiar. Safe.
Night falls before I realize how late it’s gotten. The shadows stretch long over the rugs, the house soft and warm under the quiet hush of evening. The girls both yawn at the same time and laugh at themselves.
As they kiss my cheek and leave, they promise to visit again soon, and I walk them downstairs.
Adrian opens the car door for Jennie, and she turns to wave at me one last time.
I wave back, and beside her, Zoe leans her head on Lukin’s shoulder.
The men help them into their cars like it’s second nature—like they’ve been doing this all their lives.
Kaz and I stand together in silence as both cars roll out through the gates. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and we turn to walk back into the house—together.
***
Two weeks later, we have our wedding in the garden just the way we wanted it.
The garden has never looked more beautiful. It’s just past five in the evening, and golden light spills over the hedges, brushing the petals of the white roses with a soft glow. The staff have strung up fairy lights in the trees, and a quiet breeze carries the scent of fresh lilacs.
It’s simple. Nothing grand. Nothing public. Just the way we wanted it.
Our closest friends and family gather beneath the arbor—Adrian and Jennie standing hand-in-hand, Lukin and Zoe seated near the front, their smiles easy and full of warmth.
Niko lingers near the back in all black, of course, and Milos is beside him, surprisingly well-dressed for once.
Maxim stands in front of them all, holding the small leather folder that holds our marriage license.
He smiles at us. “I found the license online. Totally legal. Totally binding. And totally fitting.”
Kaz squeezes my hand, and I glance up at him. His tie is crooked, and his hair refuses to stay in place, but he’s never looked more like mine.
We don’t follow a script. There’s no priest, no traditional readings. Just us. Just our promises. Kaz turns to me first. There’s no paper in his hands. No rehearsed lines. Just raw truth.
“I take you,” he says slowly, voice hoarse, “as the only thing that makes me human.”
Something cracks wide open in me. I start crying—hard. But I’m still smiling. I can barely speak through it, but I hold him, hands shaking as I say, “And I take you, Kazmir Rusnak, exactly as you are.”
And just like that, I become his wife. No fanfare. Just a long, deep kiss that tastes like forever and forgiveness.
And around us, our little circle claps quietly. A new beginning, in the most unexpected place—with the most unexpected man.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.