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Owned By My Ex’s Bratva Uncle

Page 112

by Mira J. Fox

He pauses, brushing my hair back from my face. “It’s over. We don’t have to run.”

“The Irish?”

“Dead.”

I collapse against his chest in overwhelming relief, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. He holds me close, one hand stroking my back.

After a moment, I pull back slightly. “You said earlier it was Luke and Viktor’s plan to have you killed… What does Viktor have to do with any of this?”

Andrei lets out a harsh breath, jaw tightening. “I found out tonight that Viktor was working with the Irish. He was feeding them information. Planning to take me out. He took advantage of Luke’s beef with me and decided to use him.”

I stare at him, stunned. “Viktor? Of all people…”

He nods, pain flickering briefly in his mismatched eyes. I wrap my arms around him tightly, hugging him as hard as I can, trying to offer comfort.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair, though I can feel how tense he still is.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I couldn’t get to you sooner.”

I shake my head and pull back to look at him. “Yes, you did. You saved me.”

He groans. “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

“I need you to teach me self-defense. I want to be able to protect myself. I don’t want to feel this helpless ever again.”

Andrei studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “Okay.”

I hug him again, burying my face in his chest. His arms tighten around me.

I don’t know what made me think I’d ever be able to run away from this man. The truth is, I can’t live without him. Not anymore. He’s become my home, my safety, my chaos, and my peace all at once. And even though it terrifies me, I don’t want to escape him. I just want him, all of him, forever.

Chapter Thirty-One

Rosie

I lie on my side facing Andrei, our legs tangled under the sheets. His eyes are trained on me with that quiet intensity he’s had since the attack, worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. It’s the same question he asks me a million times a day now.

I nod, reaching up to touch his jaw. “Yes. I’m okay.”

He brushes my hair away from my face, his knuckles gently stroking along the side of my cheek. He doesn’t say it out loud, but I can feel how worried he is about me. About my mind.

The first few days after Luke’s attack were the worst. My nightmares became brutal. I kept dreaming that Andrei didn’t get to me in time, that Luke succeeded in taking me, hurting me, or worse. I would wake up screaming, heart pounding, only to find Andrei already holding me, whispering that he had me, that I was safe, that it was over.

He hasn’t left my side in the last three weeks. Not really. And I’m glad. I’ve become practically attached to his hip, following him from room to room like a shadow. I haven’t left the house once. I haven’t gone back to the office. I’ve been working from home, and the only time I step outside is to walk around the mansion grounds with him or Anya.

My friends have been texting and calling, trying to get me to go out with them, but I keep lying and saying I’m too busy. None of them know what really happened. I can’t bring myself to tell them.

I started seeing a therapist two weeks ago. Online sessions, which feel safer. I couldn’t tell her the full truth. I just said there had been a break-in at our home and that I was struggling with anxiety and trauma from my childhood family issues. She’s been helpful, patient, and kind. One of the things she keeps gently encouraging me to do is to stop living in fear.

“Fear keeps us trapped in the past,” she told me last session. “You survived something terrifying, but you don’t have to let it define how you move forward. Small steps outside your comfort zone can help reclaim your sense of safety and freedom.”

That’s why today I’m finally going out for brunch with my friends. I even encouraged Andrei to go into the office instead of working from home. I’ve been trailing after him for weeks, sitting in his home office while he works, and I know he hasn’t been able to get much done.

Andrei’s fingers are still gently stroking my cheek, his eyes searching mine like he can read every thought I’m trying to hide.

I lean in and kiss him softly. “I’m really okay,” I whisper against his lips. “I promise.”