Page 61 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

If only things were different, but wishing didn’t change anything, and I was unable to regret the good times we had. If nothing else, Mik had taught me to trust again, or at least realize that not everyone solved their problems with screamed insults and flying fists.

It was well after midnight when I heard footsteps in the hall. I was still curled up on a chair in the living room, my nose stuffed up from crying. I must have fallen asleep, because I was disoriented for a second, almost thinking I was in the house at Canyon Vines, and it was Rand coming to wake me up.

My predicament hit me like one of his classic slaps, and I jumped up, instantly in fight-or-flight mode. I couldn’t face Mik like this. He’d know something was wrong, and I wanted to calmly ask him my questions, not be the one on the receiving end of a worried interrogation.

The light was on, and I couldn’t get to it fast enough to snap it off and hide out until he was in his room. A fresh sob burst out of my throat as I struggled to calm down before I was in a full-blown panic attack. I could never afford therapy on my own, and my parents would never have understood why I needed it, but I read plenty of articles on how to stay grounded in the moment and not completely come untethered from reality.

Sometimes the suggestions even worked.

But not tonight.

Mik came into the room, his eyes widening when he saw me. I must have looked like shit, hair rumpled, face red and tear-stained, whole body shaking like one of those nervous little purse dogs. As bad as I must have looked, it was nothing compared to him.

Was this a nightmare from falling asleep while I was wondering about Mik’s mystery injuries? He looked like he’d been hit in the face with a bat, and the hands he held out to me had scratches across the knuckles.

“No,” I whispered, holding up my own hands.

I closed my eyes tight, hearing him say something, but it came from very far away, and other voices were drowning him out. My mother shouting at my father, him threatening to kill her and burn the house down around her body. Laughter, like it was a joke.

Then Rand’s little jibes in front of the other vineyard staff, more laughter, but nervous, not sure what to do. At home, it was worse. So much worse.

You’d be nothing without me. You’re lucky I gave you a shot. You’re lucky I let you live. Useless, worthless, as bad as your mother. Worse than your father. Nothing without me.

It was all jumbled up, a sickening kaleidoscope of memories.

“Laurel.”

I snapped open my eyes to see a monster directly in front of me. But no, it was Mik, or someone who looked like him but was wild-eyed and battered. “Laurel, it’s me. You’re okay.”

I wasn’t, though, not at all. I was supposed to tell him something. Something important, and get some answers out of him, too. All of that was lost. I was stuck in a bad place and couldn’t get somewhere good. Hands gripped my arms, but it was too late.

My knees hit the floor, and everything went dark.

Chapter 36 - Mikhail

Oh, fuck. My face must have looked worse than I thought. Damn it, I never should have let her see me like this. It would have been just as easy to make sure she was all right by calling the guards I had swarming the place. I let my fear take over my common sense, but how else was I supposed to react when someone told me there was a bounty on my wife’s head?

“Laurel,” I said firmly when it was clear she was on the verge of losing it at the sight of me.

She made a terrible sound, sinking to the floor. Fuck.

I caught her before she cracked her head, but she was out cold. I gathered her close and held her for a moment, reassuring myself by the steady rise and fall of her chest. She had just passed out, that was all. All because I couldn’t keep from laying eyes on her to make sure she was all right.

And now she wasn’t. Except, she was already worked up when I entered the room. Standing with her hands out like she was getting ready to fight off an advancing foe, and looking like she’d just been jerked awake from a nightmare.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

This wasn’t just me. She was living under a hanging blade, and fearful that any moment the rope could snap and bring it down on her neck. Rand Eckvald had to die for this to be over, so she never had to look that terrified again.

The start of that had to be the truth, all of it. Everything my family did, and had been doing for generations. I could claim a small sliver of innocence, but I did my part. I reaped the benefits of being born into a major crime family. And I could never change who I was.

After a moment, I lifted her and carried her upstairs, but not to the guest room. She was my wife, and soon she’d understand what that meant. No more pretending this wasn’t real. As soon as I had her tucked under the covers, with her silky hair spread out on the pillow like a golden fan, I hurried downstairs for an ice pack, some water, and a few light snacks in case she woke up.

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, didn’t know how to help her or even what was wrong. I only knew I had to be by her side, as if watching her could keep her safe. Pulling up a chair to the bedside, I sat down, slapped the ice pack against my face, and settled my eyes on her as she lay there.

If I hadn’t rushed home, she’d be peacefully asleep right now, not in a fitful state of unconsciousness. Or maybe she wouldn’t. There was no mistaking the fact that she’d been crying, and seeing the tracks on her face made my fists clench. If only I could chase away whatever bothered her with violence. Not what she wanted or needed, but it was the way I was used to solving things.

If the fear continued to haunt her even after I got rid of Rand, then what did I do? All my easy answers didn’t make sense in the real world. I couldn’t kill every single person who looked at her funny. I couldn’t keep her in this house forever.