49. Bronwyn

49

brONWYN

I’d always thought of Radimir as unbreakable. But he just slumped, all his power and confidence gone. It was terrifying. He was the one who protected me from people like Spartak. If he was beaten…

But then I forced the fear down inside. The Pakhan needed his wife.

I gently put a hand on his back. He turned, but his eyes were distant, and it took him a few seconds to focus on me.

“It’ll be okay,” I told him. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll find a way. You always do.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath...and then he straightened up a little and nodded gratefully. His eyes locked with mine and a little of his strength seemed to creep back. His hands reached for his waistcoat and then he realized he wasn’t wearing one. But he tugged his polo shirt straight instead. “Let’s get back to Chicago,” he said.

A few hours later, we were on a plane. I had a blanket wrapped around me, but I couldn’t get warm: a cold fear was sinking into my bones. We’d escaped...but we weren’t flying to safety. We were heading back to Chicago, right into the lion’s den. I looked across at Radimir. I’d almost lost him tonight.

And that’s when I realized something. If I couldn’t drag him away from the Bratva, there was only one option left. It scared the hell out of me, but it was the only way I could at least have some input, and maybe help keep him alive.

I had to become one of them. Part of the Bratva. A mafia wife.