Page 70 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Father,” Anton says again, sharper this time.

The priest closes the book. My breath catches. Something is wrong, and Anton must feel it, too, because his grip tightens around my hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

The priest lifts his head, and my heart stops.

Roman.

His eyes find mine, and for one suspended second the church disappears. Anton disappears. The guests, the candles, the guards lining the walls, all of it gone. There is only him.

He came.

Roman’s gaze drops to Anton’s hand wrapped around mine, and something lethal settles over his face. Then he looks at me again.

“Anton.” His voice is terrifyingly calm. “If she tells me this is what she wants, I’ll marry you myself. Right here, in front of all these witnesses.”

The church erupts in whispers. Anton’s face twists with rage. “Impersonating a priest, Roman? How low.”

“Shut up.” Roman doesn’t even look at him; his eyes stay on mine. “I don’t care about tradition or protocol or any of that bullshit.” He takes one step toward me. “So tell me, Vera.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Is this what you want?”

21

VERA

“No.”

The word comes out barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the church it might as well be a scream.

Anton’s grip on my arm tightens, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. “What did you say?”

I look from him to Roman, who’s still standing there in the priest’s robes like some kind of avenging angel.

Something inside me breaks open. “I said no.” My voice is stronger this time. “I don’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry you.”

Anton’s face twists with rage. “You ungrateful little⁠—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence.

I wrench my arm free from his grip and run. My heels slip on the stone floor, but I don’t care. I cross the distance between us in a handful of steps, throwing myself at Roman before either of us can think properly.

Roman’s thick arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. I can feel his heart beating beneath my ear, fast and hard just like my own.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”

No sooner do the words leave his lips, than Anton lunges.

He moves faster than I expect, his face contorted with fury. His hands reach for me and Roman shifts, putting himself between us. Anton’s fist connects with his shoulder instead of me.

Roman doesn’t even flinch. He catches Anton’s arm and twists, using his momentum to spin him around. There’s a sickening crack, and Anton screams. It’s a high, animal sound that echoes off the stone walls.

“You think you can touch her?” Roman’s voice is almost a snarl. “You think you can come into my home and take what’s mine?”

He twists again, and Anton drops to his knees. His arm is bent at an unnatural angle that makes me want to be sick.

“Roman, that’s enough.” I reach for him, but he’s already moving.