Page 40 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

"You're bleeding, though," I say softly. He glances over his shoulder before he turns on the shower and steps in. Last time, I got in with him to help him clean his wound, but this time, I watch the glass fog and the silhouette of his dark form moving behind the veil of steam.

When he's clean and gets out, the wound is much more visible, not obscured with blood. Guilt snares my heart like barbed wire and I lean against the doorjamb watching him dry off. What sort of misery and hell have I brought on this family by wanting peace for myself? And how selfish have I been to think there would be no consequences for this?

"Are you okay?" My question makes his eyes shift upward toward my face as he wraps the towel around his waist, hair still dripping onto his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" He walks over to me, curling all ten fingers around the back of my neck as he studies my face.

"You're hurt, and I heard Bart say someone died and there was a fire…" My eyes search his face. "Are you okay? I mean… Was it bad?"

His thumbs brush my cheekbones before he kisses me slow and deep, pulling me in so I can't get away. I don't even want to. My hands splay on his chest, still damp from the shower. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.

"I'm fine… Solano attacked because he’s angry we took his chemist." Demin walks past me into the bedroom, where he goes straight for his dresser and a pair of boxers.

"But Papa is okay?" I turn, following him, and watch him drop the towel and dress. The wound seeps a little, but it'll scab over by morning. My fear of his not coming home to me isn't rational today, but someday, it might be.

"Your father is fine. He's probably resting by now, but he started work earlier." When Demin turns to look me in the eye, there's such exhaustion there. I can tell this whole day has been one problem after another. I want that to not be his existence right now, but I'm powerless to do anything except feel ashamed that I'm the one who made it this way.

"You got hurt," I say again, more timid this time. He crosses to me and wraps his hands around my waist, letting our hips press together as we both lean back slightly to look each other in the eye.

"Are you worried about me?" His question seems playful, almost mocking, but it makes tears well up in my eyes which I blink back. I've been headstrong and stubborn with him for weeks and all of a sudden, I fear for his wellbeing. I'm not sure what I feel for sure, but I know the way I felt when I saw that blood.

"You could die." My words come out so small, they don't feel like me at all. I'm not weak and pathetic, and I don't shrink myself for anyone. But being in Demin's presence makes me want to open up and be vulnerable. Like exposing the truth of what I'm thinking is safe here.

"Yes, in my line of work, there's a very real possibility that I could die every time I leave this house. But I'm not dead and I'm not planning on dying any time soon." His hips sway, grinding his pelvis on mine as he narrows his eyes. "You're worried I'll get hurt?" His head dips, as if prompting me to look up at him, but I feel ashamed and I look away.

"Well, don't flatter yourself too much. You're still the monster who has my father locked up in your basement." There is a tinge of saltiness there, anger that what I hoped would happen didn’t work out. I feel personally responsible this time for my father being in the position he's in. That guilt won't go away no matter what I do to distract myself, and it's worse every night I sleep in this comfortable bed knowing he's still on a cot in a basement.

"Isabela," he mewls, pulling me tighter. "I will always come home to this place, and so long as you're here, to you." When he says that, I look back into his eyes. I see desire there behind his gaze, but it isn't sexual this time. It's like he's trying to reassure me and communicate what he's really thinking at the same time. He's saying it like I have a choice. But he said he owns me, so I'm confused.

"I don't understand," I mumble, feeling his heartbeat under my palm.

"Now that Octavio is doing his job, I can focus on protecting you both without so many obstacles. What happened tonight isn't going to happen again. Alright?" His lips press against my forehead in a chaste kiss but he pulls away, letting one hand slide down my arm to my wrist. He takes me by the hand and leads me to bed, then shuts the lights off as he pulls me down into his arms.

The house is still now, no guards talking outside our door and no noise from outside. But somewhere in this house, I know men are still dealing with the fallout of whatever attack Solano made on Demin's property. I sink into the mattress in his arms, but finally, the tears come and they shake my whole body.

I'm overwhelmed suddenly by everything that's happened, like I've been living in a fog for so long that now that it's clearing and I see where I'm at, I realize the damage done and how awful things really are. Demin holds me through the tremors and sobs, pressing a kiss every now and then to the back of my shoulder as he pulls me in more tightly, and when I'm finally calmed down, he sighs.

"Shh, hey. You're okay now, Milaya. I give you my word. I will come home to you." His voice is so soothing, I barely recognize it, and it makes me want more of this. This man who lies in bed with me, not the harsh, angry man who demands things. I turn in his arms to face him and tangle my legs with his.

"You said home… Is this my home now?" I ask, looking up at him. He cups my cheek and dries my tears, but I can't really see his face now.

"This is your home, Milaya, and you have nothing to worry about now. Go to sleep. Let me hold you so you feel safe. I'm exhausted, alright? We will talk more in the morning."

I bury myself in his chest, arms curled between us under my chin, and let him hold me.

It's a good long time before I fall asleep, and while I’m waiting for sleep to come, I listen to the light snoring he does and think about what happens if I give in to what my heart wants and stay here, stop fighting him.

Papa will never be free for the rest of his life, and I will have doomed him to an old age of hard labor and chains. But I think I might just be falling in love with this man, and what if staying here is what I really want to do? I don’t know if my father will survive it or if he'll ever forgive me.

And I'm not sure which man in my life I should choose now, the man who gave me life or the man I might just want to be my future forever.

22

DEMIN

Octavio sits at the bench when I walk into the lab, which is the first surprise. Part of me expected to find him sitting stubbornly on his cot, daring me to start in on him again. But he's hunched over a row of glassware with a beaker in his hand. He's moving slowly but he's working. The old man knows I'm there but won't lift his eyes to me.

"I see you've finally decided to work," I say, stalking past Mishka to stand next to where Octavio glowers up at me.