Page 9 of Bratva Prince

Two Volkov snipers.One Marino.Good positioning.Near the side exits, security rotated every twelve minutes instead of ten.Intentional variation.Harder to predict.Dmitri approved.

A rival Bratva captain near the second pew carried a shoulder holster beneath his formal jacket.It was an amateur mistake.The fabric pulled too tightly whenever he moved.

Another guest near the front kept touching his cufflinks every thirty seconds.He looked nervous, possibly wired.Dmitri cataloged all of it instinctively while the officiant quietly prepared near the altar.

Weddings in their world were simply negotiations wrapped in prettier fabric.

“You still have time to fake your death.”

Maksim’s voice cut through Dmitri’s thoughts.

Dmitri glanced sideways at his younger brother standing beside him near the altar steps.Maksim looked deeply unimpressed by the entire event, one hand already wrapped around a glass of whiskey despite the ceremony not having started yet.

“I considered it,” Dmitri replied dryly.

Maksim snorted.Alexei adjusted the cuffs of his suit from the other side of Dmitri.

“You’ll survive one wedding,” Maksim told him.

Dmitri almost smiled at that.Survival was exactly what this marriage was about.It wasn’t about romance, loyalty, and certainly not trust.

The Volkovs needed stability after a recent territorial war with another Bratva family.The alliance with the Marino family secured ports, shipments, political insulation.It gave both families leverage against rivals circling like starving wolves.

Marriage merely made the arrangement harder to break.Alexei studied the chapel with narrowed eyes.

“Security’s tighter than I expected,” Alexei remarked.

“They’re Italians,” Maksim muttered.“Paranoia counts as hospitality.”

Dmitri barely listened.His thoughts drifted unexpectedly toward Sofia again.The first meeting at the hotel lingered more stubbornly in his head than he cared to admit.

He pictured the calm challenge in Sofia’s eyes, the elegant lift of her eyebrow after assessing him like a rival instead of a fiancé.If you’re expecting obedience, marry someone else.

Most women in her position would’ve hidden their fear behind politeness.Sofia Marino sharpened hers into defiance instead, and that set off a small fire inside him.

Dmitri found himself unexpectedly curious what kind of bride she would become.The realization unsettled him slightly.Curiosity was dangerous, and attachment was even worse.

The chapel doors opened before he could examine the thought further.Conversation quieted instantly, and everyone turned.

Sofia entered beside her uncle beneath the low glow of candlelight, and for the first time that afternoon, Dmitri’s attention narrowed completely onto one person.

Black silk draped elegantly over her figure instead of traditional white.The dress was fitted and severe in a way that suited her perfectly, all dark sophistication and controlled beauty.A thin black veil framed her face without fully hiding it, softening nothing.

She looked less like a bride and more like royalty arriving to negotiate surrender terms after winning the war herself.Rain glimmered against the dark curls resting over her shoulders.Her expression remained calm and controlled, not happy or frightened.

Dmitri noticed the details automatically.The way her gaze swept discreetly across the chapel entrances before returning forward.The subtle awareness in her posture whenever security shifted nearby.The fact her uncle never moved more than a few feet away.

She had been raised in this world exactly as he suspected.Sofia Marino walked toward the altar like someone approaching a negotiation table instead of a wedding.Somehow, Dmitri respected her more for it.

Most people bent beneath the pressure of rooms like this, Sofia simply adapted.Her gaze found his as she approached.Still no visible nerves in her expression and that same dangerous composure from the hotel remained intact.

The officiant cleared his throat once everyone settled into place.The ceremony began, and it was brief and efficient, as Dimitri liked.There were no emotional vows, no speeches about love or devotion.

The officiant sounded almost transactional as he spoke about unity, alliance, loyalty between families.Marriage as political infrastructure.Even God apparently became practical around organized crime.

Everything about this world operated beneath the assumption violence might erupt at any moment.When the rings were finally exchanged, Sofia extended her hand toward him without hesitation.He looked at her elegant fingers, imagined himself lifting them to his lips and placing a kiss on them just to see her reaction.

Dimitri easily dismissed the thought, then slid the ring carefully into place.Her skin felt cool against his.For one strange second neither of them pulled away immediately.Perhaps both of them had realized that this moment had changed both their lives permanently.