Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
The way he says it, without dramatics, as a cold, unyielding fact, sends a shiver through me. I tighten my hold on his hand, sensing the fierce protectiveness beneath his composed exterior.
“And when she fell in love…” My voice trails off.
“In love with someone outside our circle? It was the best possible scenario for her. In the underground world, marriage is a strategic move. Those who don’t fit the status quo are summarily ostracized, punished, or killed. Yeah. Yana needed to stay out of that fray.”
I nod. She really did.
“I only wish I could do the same for Zoya,” he says with a sigh.
"That’s why you’re so strict, isn’t it?" I say, realizing it even as I speak. "You demand loyalty and hold everyone to these intense standards, but it’s because you’re trying to keep them safe. To give them what you think is… best."
He glances down, his expression a strange mix of pride and weariness. "I won’t let anyone destroy what I’ve built, Anissa," he murmurs. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family strong—even if that means holding them to standards no one else would dare impose. Yana, Rodion, Semyon, even Zoya… they don’t understand it, not always. But I’d die for them."
A softness emerges behind his hardened gaze, something almost vulnerable, like he’s peeling back a layer of armor just for me.
I hesitate before I ask, "Did Yana understand? Does she know how much you risked to protect her?"
A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Yana always knew. She’s more perceptive than all of them put together." He pauses, watching me carefully. "I do push her harder than the others, yes. I demand her loyalty, her strength—but I want her to know that I see her. That I love her, not in spite of who she is, but because of it."
"Does she know that?"
His gaze shifts to the snowy street, contemplative. "Maybe. She’s quiet, like she’s always taking everything in. But she understands. More than anyone, Yana knows how much I care for this family, for every one of them."
I nod, feeling my heart tighten, admiring the fierce loyalty in him, seeing now that every hard edge in Rafail isn’t just about power or control—it’s about survival, about a love so intense he doesn’t know how else to express it.
We walk in silence for a few steps before I whisper, "You’re a good brother, Rafail. A good man, even if you don’t see it."
A flicker of something raw crosses his face, but he only nods, his hand firm and steady in mine. And for the first time, I see a hint of the peace he’s rarely allowed himself to feel.
As we approach the car, a rush of relief settles over me, but so do the questions that keep surfacing in my mind. I cast him a sidelong glance, my voice tentative. “Rafail… what if… what if I had another name before I met you? Another life?”
He pauses, looking at me with something between surprise and suspicion. But before he can answer, his phone rings, shattering the moment. His face goes dark as he listens, and I catch only fragments of the conversation before he hangs up.
“Romanovs… cartel… missing sister…”
The words chill me. They strike something deep, something that pulses with familiarity, even as it leaves me more lost than ever.
“Romanovs?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but Rafail’s grip on me tightens as he meets my gaze, his eyes cold, guarded. "We need to move now," Rafail says, taking my hand.
"What happened?" I ask, hobbling toward the car on my crutches, but he has no patience for my slowness. He sweeps me up off my feet and holds me with one arm against his chest while he takes my crutches in his meaty hand.
"A rival group is moving against us. I feared this—that once word got out I was married and we left the house, we’d have some pushback. We have no fucking time to waste. I need to move. We need to secure you and everybody else at the house."
My heart pounds. Is this the new life that I lead? Leaping from question to question without ever having answers? Moving from one dangerous scenario to the next?
My leg throbs under the weight of the cast as he speeds back home in silence.
“We had a driver on the way here.”
“We did. I dismissed him. We need to drive fast, and that’s on me.”
I nod silently, gripping the door until my knuckles turn white. He drives at a breakneck pace, breathtakingly precise, pressing the gas without a hint of hesitation. Each curve is taken with terrifying speed, his control effortless, as if he knows exactly how far he can push us. The sharp turns press me into my seat with the force of a roller coaster. It’s not just the speed that astounds me—it’s the sheer certainty in his every move as though the rules don’t apply to him.