Page 44 of His Stolen Bride

I find a diner that opens early and order coffee and toast and sit near the window. The money I have on me isn’t a lot, but it’ll keep me going until I find something better—and I will find something. I’ve survived worse than this and for far less reason. I touch my belly again. The waitress glances at me once, then forgets I exist.

That’s what I need.

As I eat, I think through what happened. Lira didn’t just help them find me—she coordinated it. The drugged guards, the camera loop, the driver. All of it was built to give me a head start, not an escape.

She wanted me gone before Mikhail came back. And she wanted me dead before he could ask questions. He won’t see it, at least not immediately. He trusts her.

That thought makes something tighten in my chest. I finish the food, pay, and leave. There’s a store nearby that sells prepaid phones. I buy one with cash, step into an alley, and power it on. The battery’s half full.

I type fast, short, careful not to say too much.

Mikhail—

Lira isn’t who you think she is.

If you trust her, you won’t survive it.

Handle it before she handles you.

—A

I delete the sent message from the phone, then wipe the history. I toss the device into a storm drain and walk back to the bus station.

No one looks at me twice.

The next bus leaves in ten minutes. The ticket clerk doesn’t ask for ID. I pay, board, and sit near the back again.

As the engine starts, I look out the window one last time. There’s no sign of anyone following. No black SUVs. No headlights. No Mikhail.

He’ll find the message. He’ll understand.

I rest my hand over my stomach and focus on breathing, on the sound of the bus pulling onto the road, on the steady forward motion that doesn’t stop.

I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I’m not going back.

14

MIKHAIL

Six years later

I pick the cafe because it is boring, and because boring places make people sloppy. It sits outside a town that has one police station, two gas pumps, and a single road that leads back to the highway, and it has three exits that matter. The front door, the kitchen door, and a service door that leads to the back lot.

Enzo sits with his back to the wall, and I sit with my line of sight on the doors and the windows. Luca is outside in a gray sedan, and he has two more men in separate cars so they can watch without drawing attention. We don't wear suits, carry obvious weapons, or act entitled. Tonight is supposed to end with signatures, not bodies.

Karel arrives ten minutes late, and alone, and that tells me he thinks I am here to bargain. He’s a mid-level broker who moved product through my routes without my permission since he believed my attention was on bigger wars. He’s wrong.

He slides into the booth across from me, and his hands don't stop moving. He taps the table, adjusts his watch, and wipes his thumb over the corner of his phone, hoping the phone will save him. "You could have called," he says.

"I did," I answer.

He swallows and nods, pretending he understands, and then he reaches for the folder Enzo set down between us. His fingers hesitate at the edge, and I let him feel that hesitation. It’s the closest he’ll get to control tonight.

I’m in this town for two reasons. Vienna is tired of cleanup, and the Bratva has been watching my borders. I run the Morin circle in Vienna, and I sit at tables where men ask for restraint while they plan violence, and my reputation matters more than my temper. When I take a meeting of this kind in person, it tells the city I’m still the one who decides what stays open and what gets burned.

Six years ago, Alina ran, and the story became bigger than the woman. Some bosses called it a weakness, and some bosses called it clever because a missing wife can’t be used as leverage. Most of them called it embarrassing, because a wife leaving a Bratva house makes men wonder what else can slip out. I killed the first man who joked about it in front of me, in a quiet bar in the First District, and no one laughed again. The rumor stayed anyway, because fear doesn’t erase curiosity. It just teaches people to whisper.

I told the Bratva what I needed them to believe. I told them Sergei died because he was reckless, I told them Morozov sold his daughter twice, and I told them Alina paid for it. I didn’t say how, but this gave Alina enough time to reach somewhere safe. The Bratva already knew about the marriage contracts, but my playing that bit out kept them in the dark about how much I know.