Page 18 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

Every thought I’d been holding onto disappeared all at once as Val walked in.

She was wearing something simple, an ivory dress that was nothing like the extravagance most women in our circle would have chosen. There was no elaborate train, no jewels dripping off her the way half the wives and mistresses attached to men at that boardroom table would have worn. Just her, quiet, nervous, and more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.

For the first time since I’d met her, I understood completely how much innocence she still carried, despite everything the past week had put her through. Despite all she’d seen, something in her had refused to harden the way it should have by now. I didn’t know whether to consider that a miracle or a vulnerability I’d now spend the rest of my life protecting.

The ceremony itself stayed small, although the weight underneath it felt enormous. Mikhail oversaw the formal structure of it with careful authority, making certain every ritual detail was observed even though both of us understood this to be an emergency measure dressed up as tradition.

Elena and Sofia, my two other sisters-in-law, stayed close to Val, murmuring quiet reassurance as women who understood exactly how overwhelming this family could feel. Viktor stood reserved, arms crossed, watching everything with a flat, assessing expression. Alexei studied me throughout with a kind of quiet curiosity.

Nikolai arrived late, having spent the morning untangling some financial complication connected to the raid. But even then, his presence sharpened the room the moment he walked in, garnering everyone’s attention whether they meant to give it to him or not.

I caught sight of Camila standing quietly beside Sofia, visibly emotional in a way she was trying to hide, watching her friend do something she would have laughed about two weeks ago. I had specifically instructed Roman to arrange her invitation and presence here because I knew how close she and Val are. It was important to me, in a way I didn’t understand yet, to give Val some kind of anchor outside my world on this day. Something in Camila’s expression, half joy and half disbelief, mirrored exactly what I suspected was happening behind my own composed exterior.

When the vows started, I found myself struggling to maintain the distance I’d told myself that I’d keep. This marriage had begun as a strategy, a solution built out of necessity and political math rather than anything close to sentiment. Standing across from Val while she looked at me with nervous trust, none of that math felt like it mattered anymore.

“I vow to protect you with my life and all I own. To cherish and care for you as your husband,” I promised, my eyes locked on hers.

I promised her protection almost automatically, the words coming easily because protecting her had become instinct long before either of us stood in front of anyone to make it official.

“I vow to be your soft landing. The calm to your chaos. To always be there for you even when it seems difficult to know who to belong to.”

I had to clench my jaw to conceal how much her words affected me. Her words were shaped by uncertainty she couldn’t fully hide, but underneath the uncertainty ran something else, something that sounded close to trust.

When we were finally declared husband and wife, something shifted inside me in a way I hadn’t braced myself for despite three days of knowing exactly what was coming.

Not ownership. I’d never wanted that, not even with the women who’d assumed that my attention meant something close to it.

It was responsibility. Something heavier and more permanent than anything I’d carried before, landing on my chest like it had always belonged there.

The small private dinner that followed moved through the evening with the careful choreography of every Golovin family gathering. Polite conversation stretched thin over deeper currents of power and hierarchy that nobody at the table would admit out loud, but everyone understood perfectly. Val was introduced more deeply into the family’s structure over the course of that dinner, absorbing more in a single evening than most outsiders absorbed across years. Elena and Sofia stayed close, guiding her gently through unfamiliar customs and unspoken rules, the kind of quiet mentorship neither of them had needed to offer but had chosen to anyway. Roman kept his usual careful watch over the room’s security, though even he allowed himself something close to relaxation by the time the meal wound down.

I noticed, throughout that evening, how often Val’s eyes found mine whenever uncertainty crept into her expression, whether it was a comment she didn’t quite understand, or an unfamiliar name mentioned in passing. And every single time, I found myself moving closer to her, my instinct pulling me across whatever distance separated us the moment she needed steadying.

Roman caught me at it once, raising an eyebrow at me across the table without saying anything. I ignored him.

Viktor found me near the bar later in the evening, drink in hand, watching Val across the room where Sofia was explaining something to her that made her let out the first real laugh I’d heard since the ceremony began.

“You surprised me today,” he remarked.

“I surprise most people most days.”

“Not like this.” He turned his glass slowly, studying the room rather than me. “We called this reckless in that meeting, and I still think the timeline was insane. But watching you today, I don’t think reckless is actually the right word for what’s happening here.”

“What is the right word, then?”

“Ask me again in six months. If she’s still standing beside you and you’re still looking at her the way you were during the vows, I’ll tell you what I think it actually is.”

He left it there, walking off toward a smiling Sofia.

Later, once most of the guests had begun filtering out, and the rooftop had emptied down to family and the handful of staff clearing plates in the background, I found a quiet moment to pull Val aside. I led her out through the glass doors onto the private balcony overlooking the Strip.

She stood beside me at the railing, quiet in a way that felt different from her usual careful silence.

“You alright?”

She considered the question longer than I expected before answering, wrapping her arms tighter around herself against the cool air. “I’m scared. I don’t think that’s going to change just because we said some words in front of your family tonight.”

“I know.” I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, acting like I didn’t feel how she flinched for a second before she melted into the warmth of the material. Then I turned to face her properly. “I am, too.”