Chapter 27
SAMUIL
Iwake up with the sun. It hits my eyes from the crack in the blinds. I groan against consciousness, but it’s no use. My body wakes up without my permission.
Molly is sound asleep next to me, but she’s curled in on herself, the sheet tangled around her hips. She looks so small and fragile, so vulnerable. It’s completely different from the way she took control last night. I knew it was all an act. What happened yesterday was horrific.
I lie on my side and watch her for a long time. Her wrists are still chafed. There’s a faint bruise on her hip, though I can’t tell if that’s from those bastards or if I put it there. She looks so different from the fierce woman I’ve come to know.
It hits me that she hadn’t meant for last night to be a reunion. It was desperation, a primal need to find some balance and control after an ordeal that stole her sense of security. It doesn’t change how she feels about me.
I can see it all over her face. Even in sleep, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. Her priority is herself and our baby. How could I ever, even for one second, have chosen the Bratva over her?
I sit up, plant my elbows on my knees, and press my palms together until my knuckles crack. Last night, when I carried her out of that warehouse, something in me split clean down the center.
For years, maybe my entire life, I believed the world could only exist one way. Violence bought stability. Power bought protection. Loyalty was currency. Empire was survival. I knew how the world worked, and I knew that the only people who would ever truly accept and support me were my men.
Then I saw her chained to that mattress. I saw the way that creep was watching her. I watched the world I’d built collapse in three seconds.
I rub both hands over my face.
The Bratva has been my identity since birth.
It was my heritage, my duty, my future. But none of that mattered when I saw Molly’s eyes wide, terrified, locked on her captor.
When I saw what those bastards were putting her through, and realized what else they had planned for her.
When she whispered my name like a prayer right before I shot that bastard in the face.
The pakhan in me acted without hesitation, without remorse. The man in me, the one who loves her, reacted with fear and revulsion at what they’d done.
I can’t lose her. I won’t. Still, I know that I don’t deserve to keep her unless I change. I’m not sure I can live without her, and that’s worth a hell of a lot.
Last night, I saw the future. I saw what could happen if I didn’t give up the Bratva. The only thing waiting on the other side is a coffin, and it isn’t mine. It’s hers. That’s a price I refuse to pay. Nothing in the world is worth losing her for good.
She shifts in her sleep and makes a quiet sound that’s close to a sob. Instinct pulls me closer to her. I adjust the blanket up over her shoulder so she doesn’t get cold. She doesn’t wake up, thankfully, and I’m glad. She needs the rest.
I get up as quietly as I can and go to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water, then fill one up for her as well. She’ll probably be thirsty when she wakes up.
I go back into the room as quietly as possible and set the glass on the nightstand. I climb back into bed and wait patiently for her eyes to open. It doesn’t take long. She senses me there, waiting for her.
When she finally stirs, she blinks up at the ceiling first. She sighs heavily, coming back to herself and the present. It hurts me to watch pain play across her face as she remembers where she is and what happened. I wish I could take all the pain away. At the very least, I’m going to try.
She sits up slowly, careful of her sore wrists, before she finally looks at me. There’s no emotion on her face whatsoever. She just looks resigned and sleepy.
My voice comes out low.
“Good morning.”
She nods once and stretches carefully, wincing as her joints pop.
She clears her throat and looks at the water on the nightstand.
I can’t see her face, but she reaches for it very slowly, as if she didn’t expect anyone to take care of her in such a simple way.
I watch as she gulps it down, then sets it back on the edge of the nightstand.
“We should probably talk,” she says, not looking at me.
“I agree,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.
Her jaw tightens as she looks at me.
“Last night didn’t change anything,” she says coolly. “You know where I stand.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “But you don’t know where I stand.”
She watches me carefully, her eyes more guarded than I’ve ever seen. There’s a thick wall between us, and I can only hope I find the words to start breaking it down brick by brick.
“I love you,” I tell her without hesitation.
She doesn’t react. Either she didn’t hear me or she doesn’t believe me. So I try again.
“I love you, Molly,” I repeat, more forceful this time. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I’ve ever loved in my entire life.”
She closes her eyes, and I hate seeing the tears that fall down her cheeks. I take a deep breath and power through.
“All my life, I’ve lived by one rule: control everything or lose everything. I fought tooth and nail to survive my father’s mess, my brother’s death, the Bratva politics that were rigged long before I was born.”
My hands flex on my thighs.
“The Bratva was all I ever had. They raised me and supported me when I had nothing else. I knew that as long as I was in charge, I’d always have a family.”
A harsh, self-loathing laugh escapes me.
“But that wasn’t true. Not even close. I see that now.”
She opens her eyes, and the sorrow there guts me.
“Samuil, last night doesn’t fix—”
“It wasn’t meant to fix anything,” I interrupt gently. “Last night broke me, Molly. When you were taken, when I thought you might be dead or hurt…”
My voice cracks, and I have to take a deep breath to continue.
“I realized what it really means to have a family. To love someone so much that you’d set the world on fire for them. Almost losing you made me realize that I can’t lose you. I wouldn’t survive it.”
Her breath trembles.
“I’m not going to let you get hurt again,” I tell her with all the conviction I can muster.
She shakes her head. “You can’t promise that,” she says through tears. “Your world is too dangerous.”
“It won’t be my world anymore.”
That makes her go completely still. Her eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack. I take her hand slowly so she can pull away if she needs to.
“I’m stepping back from it all,” I tell her, cementing the decision I made the second I saw her chained against that wall.
She blinks slowly, like she can’t quite comprehend what I’m saying. “What?”
“I’m turning the day-to-day operations over to someone else. I’m keeping my legitimate holdings and cleaning up the rest of the business. I’ll keep my distance from the illegal operations. I’ll appoint a second-in-command who will handle what I won’t anymore.”
Her brow furrows. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would,” I answer earnestly. “I thought I didn’t know who I was without the Bratva, but Molly, I don’t know who I am without you. Last night made that very clear for me.”
Her chin trembles, and I lean closer.
“You were right,” I say softly. “About everything. I can’t protect you in the life I was living. So I’m changing the life.”
A tear rolls down her cheek.
“I don’t want you to do this because you feel guilty.”
“I’m doing this because I love you,” I say simply. “Because I love our child. Because some things matter more than power.”
Her breath catches. “You really love me?”
“I never stood a fucking chance,” I tell her, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “And it’s too late to save myself now.”
She laughs despite her tears. “I love you, too,” she whispers.
Her words nearly knock the air out of my lungs. I take her face in both hands and kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her trembling lips.
“I want us to be a family,” I murmur against her mouth. “If you’ll still have me.”
She nods quickly and fiercely, like these are the words she’s been waiting to hear her whole life.
“Of course I will,” she says through tears.
I pull her into my arms, pressing my forehead to hers.
A long silence stretches between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
It’s warm and full of all the love we have for each other and all the words we aren’t sure how to say.
She wipes her tears on the back of her wrist, and I kiss the spot gently before she can hide the gesture.
“So what happens now?” she whispers after several moments.
I can’t hold back my smile.
“Now we get married,” I say simply.
Her eyes shoot up in shock. “Married? When?”
“Today,” I tell her, because suddenly I can’t wait another fucking second. “If that’s all right with you.”
She blinks fast. A laugh bubbles out of her, watery but genuine. “Are you trying to make an honest woman out of me?” she teases.
“Yes,” I say excitedly. “And I’ll marry you anywhere, at any time. So why not today?”
She bites her lip. “We would need a ring.”
I stand up, grab my phone, and text a man who owes me.
“I know a jeweler.”
She laughs, wiping her eyes again. “Of course you do.”
“Come on,” I tell her, checking my phone and texting said jeweler. “If we get ready now, we can be there within the hour.”
She smiles softly.
“I should probably call Kelly.” She laughs. “I’ll need a bridesmaid, especially if I’m picking a wedding dress this morning.”
I kiss her again, slow and deliberate.
“So we’re doing this?” I confirm happily.
“We’re doing this,” she echoes.
Later that morning, we’re standing hand in hand in front of a glass case of rings. The jeweler is a tiny man with a massive mustache and a thicker accent than mine. When he sees me and realizes what I’m buying, he nearly falls over in surprise.
“Samuil Volkov getting married,” he says reverently. “I never thought I’d see the day. She must be a very special girl.”
Molly blushes at his words.
“She is,” I agree.
She tries on several rings. They’re all beautiful, but it’s an oval diamond set in a platinum band that makes her breath catch.
“That’s the one,” I say instantly.
She looks at me. “No, this is way too much,” she says. “I just wanted to try it.”
“Molly,” I say sternly. “Does this ring make you happy? Do you think you could wear it every day for the rest of your life?”
Her face flushes and she smiles brightly. “I could,” she finally admits.
“Then that’s the one,” I say, turning to the jeweler to confirm.
He claps and I slip him my credit card.
From there, we split up briefly. I leave Molly with her stunned best friend, who can’t believe she’s getting married to a former Bratva boss.
I make sure they have security guards with them as they go dress shopping, and I meet Davyd so we can pick out a tux.
It’s not ideal to get it off the rack, but I don’t want to wait another moment.
Two hours later, we’re all pulling up at the courthouse. Anya arrives with her nanny, wearing a white dress and a ribbon in her hair. She carries a basketful of rose petals and smiles brightly when she lays eyes on Molly.
The judge is an acquaintance who owes me a favor. He promises all the paperwork will be expedited. He laughs when he sees Anya and murmurs to me that he’s never had a flower girl at his courthouse before.
Davyd pulls out his phone and plays soft music. Anya throws the petals straight up into the air, showering herself in pink and giggling.
Molly walks down “the aisle” to me, and I take her shaking hands.
“I love you,” I tell her again, because I need her to hear it out loud as often as I can say it.
She squeezes my fingers.
“I love you, too.”
We exchange vows, sign the papers, and kiss to the small applause of our assembled group.
It’s a simple ceremony. She deserves so much more, and maybe one day I’ll give her that, but even so, she looks so radiant and so happy. None of it compares to the joy radiating in my chest.
As I grab her hand and lead her out of the courthouse and to the limo waiting for us, I realize that it was never the Bratva that made me a king. It was her.