Page 112 of The Wrong Brother

Emma searches my face. I’m not sure what she’s looking for—a lie? A monster?

“Both of you are safe.”

The words hang between us. Emma’s breath stutters, as does mine. But after a moment, she nods, easing the tension in my chest. Just a little bit.

I hesitate. Then ask the question that has been tormenting me for days.

“Do you trust me?”

Emma stares at me, and for one terrible second, I think she won’t answer. Then her expression softens.

“Yes.”

The word is simple. Honest.

And it changes everything because now I have something to lose.

Chapter 30

Emma

Later that night,I lay awake staring at the ceiling and listening to Rus pace and try to be quiet. In my head, I can picture exactly what he looks like: worn out, glasses pushed up into his pale hair, sleeves rolled up his arms. Chiseled features, serious, set.

The digital clock beside the bed reads 10:53 p.m.

Then 10:58.

Then 11:07.

Sleep refuses to come.

The suite is quiet except for the distant hum of traffic several floors below and the occasional murmur of Ruslan’s voice carrying from the office. He’s been in there for hours. Every now and then I hear him through the partially closed door, low and steady, followed by long stretches of silence that somehow feel even more ominous.

I roll onto my side and pull the blankets higher. This entire situation feels insane when I stop moving long enough to think about it.

A month ago, I was in California trying, okay, failing, to rebuild my life after a string of bad decisions. Now I’m hiding in a luxury hotel in Colorado with a Bratva leader while tabloid photographers speculate about whether I’m carrying his child.

Normal people would probably have concerns. I certainly do.

The problem is that none of those concerns seem to center around Ruslan himself. And that realization bothers me.

Because I trust him.

Somewhere along the way, despite every warning bell that should have been ringing in my head, I started trusting him. Not blindly or completely. I know exactly what he is, and I’ve seen enough of the world to understand that men like Rus don’t climb to the top of criminal organizations by being kind.

Yet when he promised to keep me safe, I believed him without hesitation.

Maybe that’s the crazy part.

Not the pregnancy or the revenge plot. Trusting a BratvaPakhanmore than I’ve trusted most ordinary people.

The mattress shifts slightly as I turn onto my back again, unable to get comfortable.

What is he doing? For weeks, revenge was all he talked about. Everything revolved around Andrei—destroying him, exposing him,getting Colorado back.

Coming home, though I know Ruslan will never phrase it like that or say those words out loud. Maybe that’s part of why I trust him; because I know that deep down, this isn’t about conqueringa man who he claims is his rival, but about finding peace and quieting ghosts.

Now that the wedding is over and the speeches made, Andrei is still walking around Denver. Likely to be nominated for the exact spot he wants as a government official.