Chapter 24 #2
"It is." He pulls back enough to look at me. "You made me want things I never thought I could have. Made me believe I could be something other than what I was raised to be. You changed everything, Liesl. From the moment you looked at me in my office and refused to be afraid."
I wince. "I was terrified."
"But you didn't show it. You were brave and defiant and so fucking beautiful I couldn't think straight." His thumb traces my lower lip. "You still are."
"Andrei." I breathe his name. "Are you really asking me to marry you?"
"Yes." There isn't a trace of hesitation or doubt in his voice "I'm asking. But I'm also asking if you're willing to give me a chance—to give us a chance. See if we can build something real out of this disaster that all this started out as."
I look up at him, at this man who kidnapped me and held me captive and made me fall in love with him despite every reason not to. This man who's brutal and violent and dangerous, but who also held me when I cried and listened when I talked… and trusted me.
This man who just told me he loves me more than power.
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, I'm willing to give you a chance. Give us a chance."
The smile that breaks across his face is devastating. And then he kisses me, his mouth claiming mine with a desperation that steals my breath.
I kiss him back with equal intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. The pain in my shoulder fades to background noise, overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips on mine, his hands on my body, his heart beating against my chest.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down my jaw, my neck, down to the hollow of my throat. "I need you," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to know this is real."
"Then take me to bed." I tug at his shirt. "Take me somewhere private and show me."
He doesn't need to be told twice. He scoops me up in his arms—careful of my shoulder—and carries me down the hallway. Not back to the room I woke up in, but to his room. His private space. He kicks the door shut behind us and carries me to the massive bed, laying me down on the dark sheets.
"Your shoulder—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"It's fine. I'm fine. I need you, Andrei. Please."
He strips off his shirt, revealing the bandage wrapped around his ribs. The evidence of his own wound, his own brush with death. I reach out and trace the edge of the bandage with my fingers. "We almost died," I whisper.
"But we didn't." He catches my hand and brings it to his lips. "We survived. We're alive."
"Make me feel it." I pull him down to me. "Make me feel alive."
He kisses me again, slower this time, tenderly. His hands strip away my clothing until I'm naked beneath him, and then he just looks at me for a long moment.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You're so fucking beautiful."
I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle.
He helps me, stripping off the rest of his clothes until we're both bare.
He settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
He kisses every inch of skin he can reach, his hands mapping my body like he's memorizing it.
I gasp at the glide of his lips over my body, the feeling of his hands on my legs, sliding over my skin, spreading me open for him.
He's so gorgeous, every inch of him, and he's mine. I can hardly believe it. I've never imagined myself with a man like him, but now that he's here—that we're here together—I can't imagine anything else.
He leans down and kisses me as I feel him press against my opening. "I wanted to go slower," he murmurs roughly. "Touch you, taste you… but I need to be inside of you. I need—"
"We can do all that later." I tangle my legs with his, urging him closer. "I want you inside of me, too."
His hips tilt and he slides in slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. I feel the stretch of him, the burn and then the intense pleasure of the piercings as they pop into me one by one, and I moan, arching into him. "That's perfect," I gasp, rocking my hips against his. "You're perfect."
"Not perfect." He thrusts into me with long, slow strokes. "But yours."
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, Andrei—"
He moans at the sound of his name on my lips, his hips quickening as he picks up the pace. His hand slides between us, finding my clit, and circles it with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his hips. "Come for me, ptitsa," he commands. "Let me feel you."
I shatter around him, my orgasm rolling through me in waves. He follows moments later, his face buried in my neck, my name on his lips as I feel him fill me, throbbing, the two of us joined together and pleasure washing over us both.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, breathing hard. Eventually he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I'm tucked against his chest. His hand strokes up and down my spine in a soothing rhythm.
"I should tell you," he says after a while. "About what happened after the cabin."
I tense slightly. "My father?"
"Surrendered." His voice is matter-of-fact. "Once Volkov was dead and you and I were being evacuated, his men scattered. Viktor's forces secured the perimeter. Your father was taken into custody by his own security team and removed from the scene."
"Is he—" I can't quite finish the question.
"Alive. In a hospital, under guard." Andrei's hand continues its soothing motion.
"The shoulder wound wasn't life-threatening.
He'll recover. But he's probably going to go to prison.
Which…" He pauses. "I know that's difficult to hear.
But you'll be safe from him. And so will I.
He's no longer a threat to either of us. "
I don't know how to feel about that. I feel relief that I'm not responsible for my father's death, and grief that the man I thought I knew never really existed. Anger at his betrayal.
"And the Volkov family?" I prompt.
"Destabilized completely." There's satisfaction in his voice now. "Without Volkov's leadership, they fractured. Some of their territories have been absorbed into our operations. Some of their men have switched loyalty—they'd rather work for a pakhan who's alive than follow a dead man's legacy."
"So you won." I tilt my head back to look at him. "You won the war."
"We won." He corrects, his hand coming up to cup my face.
"You were right about the meeting, even if it didn't go the way we planned.
Your father showing his true colors, Volkov being there—it gave me the justification I needed to eliminate the threat completely.
My men saw me take down Volkov. They saw me protect you. They saw me survive."
"What about the ones who wanted me dead?" I ask quietly. "The ones who thought I was making you weak?"
"They've changed their minds." A dark smile crosses his face. "Turns out, the woman who threw herself in front of a gun to protect their pakhan isn't a weakness. She's someone worth respecting."
"You told them about that?"
"Didn't have to. Viktor told them. And then they saw the aftermath—saw how I fought to protect you, how I eliminated our enemies, how I secured victory. They understand now that you don't make me weak. You make me stronger."
I stare at him for a long moment. "So they accept me?"
"They respect you." He kisses my forehead. "But it's a start."
"And you?" I search his face. "Do you still think I make you weak?"
"No." His answer is immediate. "I think you make me human. And that's more valuable than any amount of power."
Tears prick at my eyes again. "I love you."
"I love you too." He pulls me closer, careful of both our injuries. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving that I can be the man you deserve."
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows and warming the room. It feels surreal—this moment of peace after so much violence.
"What happens now?" I ask eventually. "What do we do?"
"Now?" He gives me a soft smile, softer than anything I've ever seen from him before. "Now we heal. We figure out what our life looks like together." He pauses. "And I teach you how to shoot."
I pull back to look at him. "What?"
"You're with a Bratva pakhan now." His expression is serious. "You need to know how to protect yourself. How to handle a weapon."
"You want to teach me to shoot?" I can't quite keep the disbelief out of my voice.
"I want you to be safe." He strokes my hair back from my face. "I want you to have every tool you need to survive."
It's such a practical, thoughtful gesture that it makes my chest ache. He's not trying to keep me helpless or dependent. He's trying to make me strong, give me agency in a world that's dangerous and unpredictable.
"Okay," I agree. I close my eyes, letting myself relax into his embrace. My shoulder still aches. My body is still recovering. But for the first time since this all started, I feel safe. I feel hopeful.
I feel like maybe, just maybe, we can make this work.
A billionaire's daughter and a Bratva pakhan. A kidnapping that became a love story. It's not the life I imagined for myself. It's darker, more dangerous, and more complicated than anything I could have planned.
But it's mine. And I'm choosing it with my eyes wide open. I know that whatever comes next—whatever challenges we face, whatever darkness we have to navigate—we'll face it together.
The war is over. The danger has passed. And we survived. We survived, and now we get to live.
That's the happiest ending I could have asked for.