Page 45 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

Dmitri didn’t linger on it. He lowered the weapon, his expression settling back into something composed and unreadable, and gave a quiet signal to the security men already moving to handle what remained.

This was what his world actually was, underneath every gentle moment we’d shared, underneath the poker lessons and the quiet restaurant conversations. Decisions made in seconds. Lives ending just as quickly.

When Dmitri finally looked at me across the room, something in his expression softened slightly, the harder edges of his focus easing now that whatever he’d been carrying all evening had finally been resolved.

But there was no apology in it. Only acceptance. The unflinching understanding of a man who’d done exactly what his world required of him and felt no need to fake regret he didn’t actually feel.

I didn’t move for a moment, my whole body caught somewhere between the woman who’d married him and the woman standing frozen on that floor, watching him holster his weapon like it was the most ordinary action in the world.

Roman crossed toward me before Dmitri could, his expression carefully neutral like he was about to ask a security question.

“You should sit down,” he said quietly. “Somewhere private, if you can manage it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, but that’s alright. Nobody expects you to be, not after watching that.” He guided me gently toward a quieter corner near the service hallway, away from the small crowd of guests still murmuring in shocked, hushed voices near where Varley had fallen. “Dmitri will come find you once things are handled here.”

“How long has he known?”

“Not long. He fed information to Vale for weeks, information that put you specifically in danger more than once.”

I absorbed that slowly, understanding that the familiar man who’d overseen my work for years had also, apparently, been quietly making moves to implicate me.

“Did he know? That I was in danger because of what he was doing?”

“I imagine he did. Men like Varley don’t survive thirty years in this business without understanding exactly what their choices cost other people.”

Dmitri found me a few minutes later, something in his eyes searching my face carefully as he approached, gauging exactly how much damage tonight had done.

“Val.”

“I’m okay,” I said, attempting to dismiss him, though the words came out thinner than I wanted them to.

“You don’t have to say that.”

I didn’t say anything in response.

“Did you know? That it would end like that?”

“I knew it would end with him no longer able to hurt this family, or you. I didn’t know it would happen tonight. He could have decided not to show up tonight.” Dmitri’s voice stayed level, which told me he was trying to be calm. “I’m not going to apologize for what I did. He put your life in danger more than once. I won’t pretend I regret removing that threat.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize.”

We remained like that in silence for over a minute.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty

Dmitri

The elevator ride passed in silence.

Val stood beside me, staring at the wall on the other side of her like there was suddenly something comforting about it that I didn’t know about. I didn’t try to fill the quiet. I’d learned enough about grief and shock over the years to know that forcing comfort onto someone still processing violence usually did more harm than simply letting the silence exist until they were ready to break it themselves.