Page 107 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Roman’s hand moves toward his waistband, where I know he’s carrying a gun. “This doesn’t have to end in blood.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Anton takes a step forward, and I can see the gun in his hand now, held low at his side. “All you have to do is hand over the ledger and walk away. You can keep the girl. I don’t care about her anymore.”

“You don’t get to decide what happens to her.” Roman’s voice is cold. “You don’t get to decide anything ever again.”

Anton laughs. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you? One council vote and you think everything changes. Nothing changes, Roman. The family will always need men like me. Men who do the dirty work, who get their hands bloody so the Volkonskys can keep theirs clean.”

“The family doesn’t need men who traffic in human lives.”

“The family doesn’t need anything.” Anton’s lip curls. “The family takes. That’s what it’s always done. That’s what it will always do. You can pretend you’re different, but you’re not. You’re just like the rest of us.”

Roman moves so fast I barely see it. One second he’s standing in front of me, the next he’s lunging toward Anton, the ledger forgotten on the floor beside us.

The two men collide with a sickening crunch. Anton gets off a shot, but it goes wide, shattering a window somewhere behind us. Roman tackles him to the ground, and they roll across the dirty floor.

I grab the ledger and press myself against the wall, my heart pounding. I want to help, but I don’t know how. I’ve never been in a fight in my life. I’d only be in the way.

Roman gets the upper hand, pinning Anton to the ground with a knee on his chest. His fist connects with Anton’s face once, twice, three times. Blood sprays across the floor.

“It’s over,” Roman snarls. “You’re done.”

Anton laughs again, blood bubbling between his lips. “You think this changes anything? Kill me, and ten more will take my place. The family will always need⁠—”

Roman’s fist connects with his jaw, and Anton’s head snaps to the side. He goes limp.

Roman stands, breathing hard. His knuckles are bloody, his shirt torn. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s dripping blood down his cheek.

“Is he...” I can’t finish the question.

“He’s alive.” Roman reaches down and retrieves Anton’s gun. “Not for long.”

The back door bangs open, and Lev rushes in with two of his men close behind. They take in the scene at a glance: Anton unconscious on the floor and Roman, bloody but standing.

“We need to go,” Lev says. “More of his men are coming.”

Roman nods and reaches for my hand. “Let’s move.”

We step over Anton’s body and push through the door into the night air. The car is waiting, engine running, and Artyom holds the back door open for us.

“Get in,” Roman says, his hand on the small of my back.

I’m halfway to the car when a sound behind us makes me freeze. It’s a groan, low and guttural, followed by the scrape of boots on concrete.

Anton.

He’s pushed himself up onto one elbow. His hand slips beneath his jacket and comes back with another gun, the barrel already swinging toward us.

“Going somewhere?” he rasps.

Roman moves faster than I can process, shoving me toward the car while turning to face Anton. “Get in the car, Vera. Now.”

I don’t want to leave him, but I’m not stupid. I scramble toward the open door, my eyes locked on the scene unfolding behind me.

Anton pushes himself to his feet, swaying slightly but managing to stay upright. His eyes are wild, because he knows this is his last chance.

“You think you’ve won?” he snarls. “You think this is over?”

Roman doesn’t answer. He’s already moving, his body coiled like a spring.