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He turns desperately toward Lorenzo. “Don Lorenzo! Please, help me!”

I meet Lorenzo’s eyes, waiting to see his reaction.

Lorenzo meets my eyes. He knows what will happen if he counters me. War. He holds my gaze for several long seconds.

Then he looks away, sighing. “You made your bed. You have to lie in it.”

The man breaks. “No!” He struggles as my soldiers seize him by the arms and lead him out of the party.

His two companions are visibly shaking, terrified they’ll suffer the same fate.

I turn to Aurora. “Which part of their bodies do you want, solnyshko?”

She stares at me as though I’ve completely lost my mind. “None.”

I nod once before looking at one of the soldiers standing nearby.

“Break their legs.”

The men immediately begin pleading as they’re dragged away, but their cries fall on deaf ears. I take Aurora’s hand and lead her back to our table.

The party slowly resumes, people returning to their drinks and conversations like nothing happened.

Aurora stares at me, fear clear in her eyes. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Yes,” I say simply. “You are my wife now. You are the Queen of the Bratva. No one disrespects you. Ever. If you ever forget who you are, look at the ring on your finger. It symbolizes that. No form of disrespect toward you will ever be tolerated.”

She looks at me with wide, fearful eyes. I pull her into my arms, one hand cupping the back of her neck.

“You need not be scared of me, Solnyshko. I would never hurt you. You’re my queen, and I will treat you as such.”

She searches my face for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether to believe me. The fear doesn’t leave her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away from me this time.

❦ ❦ ❦

Well after the toasts, as we’re seated at the head table, my men walk back into the reception hall. When they give me a subtle nod, I return it.

One of them places a small glass jar on the table directly in front of Aurora. Inside is the freshly cut tongue of the man who disrespected her.

She lets out a sharp shriek. “What is that?!”

I lean back calmly. “That’s the tongue of the man who disrespected you. My first wedding gift to you.”

“For God’s sake, take it away!” she gasps, looking horrified. “I don’t need it. You really cut off his tongue?”

I look at her strangely. “Did you think I was bluffing when I said they should cut it out? He disrespected you. So his tongue is gone. No one will ever dare disrespect you again.”

She looks like she’s about to be sick. “I don’t need the tongue. Please take it away or I’m going to throw up.”

“Fine,” I say with a small sigh. “Guess I’ll have to get you another gift then.” I snap my fingers and the jar is quickly removed.

She whispers. “Why would you cut off a man’s tongue?”

"Like I said, because he disrespected you."

She frowns. “So does that mean you’re going to cut out the tongue of every man who disrespects me?”

“If I have to, yes.”