Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 13Natalia

13

Natalia

T he plush carpet of the guest room muffles our footsteps as Alina and I settle onto the edge of the bed. The room is cozy, all warm tones and soft fabrics, but the tension between us makes it feel claustrophobic. Alina's eyes, so like my own, bore into me with a mixture of hurt and confusion that makes my chest ache.

For a moment, we sit in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between us. I can hear the muffled sounds of the party downstairs, the laughter and music a stark contrast to the somber mood in this room. I fidget with the hem of my dress, trying to find the right words to explain the unexplainable.

Alina breaks the silence first, her voice trembling slightly. "You got married without even inviting us? And the timing... after everything with Dad?"

The hurt in her voice is like a knife to my heart. I sigh, running a hand through my carefully styled hair, feeling it coming loose from its elegant updo. "I know it looks bad," I admit, finally meeting her gaze. "It is bad. But I had my reasons, Alina. I swear, I just..." I trail off, the words sticking in my throat. How can I explain something I barely understand myself? "I can't tell you right now."

Alina's face softens slightly at my obvious distress, but I can see the hurt still lingering in the set of her jaw, the furrow of her brow. She looks away, her gaze falling on a framed photo of the Governor's family on the nightstand. "I still can't wrap my head around what happened to Dad," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The rumors... I never thought they could be true. I never thought he would work with the mob like that.”

I nod, reaching out to take her hand. She doesn't pull away, which I count as a small victory. The warmth of her skin against mine is comforting, a reminder of the bond we've always shared. "I know," I say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "But I overheard something..." I hesitate, weighing how much to reveal. The truth burns on my tongue, begging to be set free, but I know I have to be careful. "The leader of the mafia responsible said it was a mistake. An accident. They didn't mean to kill him that night."

Alina's head snaps up, her eyes wide with shock. "What? How do you know that? When did you—" She cuts herself off, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Natalia, what aren't you telling me?"

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. How can I explain the complex web of lies and half-truths I've become entangled in? How can I tell her about Luka, about the dangerous world I've been thrust into? Especially since he doesn’t want her to know, and just telling her could put her into even more danger.

Alina frowns, confusion clouding her features. "How could a hit like that go so horribly wrong?" she asks, her voice laced with skepticism. "It doesn't make sense. Professional killers don't make mistakes like that."

I bite my lip, the truth about Luka on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her everything—about the arranged marriage, about Luka's true identity, about the danger we're all in. But before I can speak, the door swings open with enough force to make us both jump.

Luka stands in the doorway, his imposing figure filling the frame. His expression is unreadable, but there's a tension in his shoulders that sets my nerves on edge. His eyes scan the room quickly before landing on me, and I can see something in his eyes. I don’t know if it’s relief or concern.

Without a word, he strides into the room and grabs my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to suppress a shiver.

"We have to leave. Now," he says, his voice low but urgent. There's an edge to his tone that I've never heard before, and it sends a chill down my spine.

I furrow my brow in confusion, looking between Luka and my sister. Alina has risen to her feet, her posture defensive. "What? Why?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Luka pulls me toward the door, his eyes flicking to Alina. "It's an emergency with my company," he lies smoothly, his face a mask of calm control. "Goodnight."

Before Alina can protest, before I can say goodbye, we slip into the hallway. The sounds of the party drift up from below —laughter, music, the clink of glasses—all so at odds with the urgency radiating from Luka.

Once we're alone, Luka turns to me, his grip still firm on my wrist. His eyes, usually so controlled, are blazing with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "How well do you know the Governor's house?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, thrown by the question. "I've been coming here since I was a teenager," I reply, matching his hushed tone. My mind races, trying to understand what's happening. "But I only know the open areas, nothing private like the bedrooms. Luka, what's going on?"

Luka's eyes flick toward the bustling party below, his jaw clenching. "Is there a back exit?" he asks, ignoring my question.

"Why?" I ask, my heart pounding faster with each passing second. The fear in Luka's eyes, so foreign on his usually confident face, terrifies me more than anything else. "Luka, please, tell me what's happening."

He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. The familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with something metallic that I realize with a start must be blood, fills my senses. "One of the rival mafia members attacked me," he says, his voice grim. "There's more of them in the party. We need to get out before it's too late."

My breath catches in my throat, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. But beneath it all, there's a strange thrill—a realization that this, right here, is the real Luka Volkov. Not the polished businessman or even the dangerous mafia boss, but a man fighting for survival. And he's chosen to fight alongside me.

I nod, squeezing his hand. "Follow me," I whisper, leading him toward the garden exit I know well.

We move as quickly as we dare, trying not to draw attention. I can feel the heat of Luka's body behind me, hear the controlled rhythm of his breathing. Every shadow makes me tense, every laugh from a party guest below sends my heart racing.

The garden is a maze of hedges and topiaries, moonlight casting eerie shadows across the manicured lawn. I lead Luka through the twists and turns, grateful for the countless summers I spent exploring this very maze as a teenager.

Just as we near the gate, after weaving through the elaborate hedge maze, a shadow detaches itself from behind a bush. I barely have time to register the glint of metal in the moonlight before the attacker is upon us, knife gleaming in his hand.

He goes for me first, perhaps seeing me as the easier target. I feel a searing pain across my arm as I stumble backward, losing my footing on the damp grass. I fall hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Luka roar, a sound of pure fury that sends chills down my spine. He tackles the attacker, the two of them grappling in a violent struggle that seems more animal than human.

I push myself up, ignoring the sting of my scraped palms and the throbbing in my arm. I need to help, to do something, but I'm frozen in place, watching in horror as the fight unfolds.

The sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh pierces the air. For a heart-stopping moment, I think it's all over. But then I see Luka stagger back, his hand pressed to his side where a dark stain is rapidly spreading across his white shirt.

Despite the wound, Luka doesn't falter. With a final, brutal punch that seems to channel all his rage and fear, he sends the attacker crumpling to the ground. The man lies still, knocked out cold by the force of the blow.

For a moment, Luka stands there, chest heaving, silhouetted against the moonlight like some avenging angel. Then, slowly, he turns to me. "Natalia," he says, his voice rough with pain. "Are you hur?—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. I watch in horror as the color drains from his face, his hand still clutched to his side where the wound is. His knees buckle, and he collapses to the ground.

"Luka!" I scream, rushing to his side. My hands hover over him, unsure where to touch, what to do. "Oh God, Luka, stay with me. Please."

His eyes find mine, clouded with pain but still alert. "We need to move," he grits out. "More will be coming."

I nod, forcing myself to focus. I tear a strip from the bottom of my dress, the sound of ripping fabric loud in the quiet garden. With shaking hands, I press the makeshift bandage against the wound in his side. Luka hisses in pain but doesn't pull away.

"Can you stand?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

Luka nods, jaw clenched. With my help, he struggles to his feet, leaning heavily on me. We stumble toward the gate, every step sending fresh rivulets of blood soaking through the bandage.

As we make our way to safety, my mind races with the implications of what just happened. The rival mafia, the attack on Luka, the dangerous world I've been thrust into—it all swirls together in a dizzying mix of fear and adrenaline.

But beneath it all, there's a growing certainty that I can't ignore. Despite the danger, despite the secrets and lies, I know now that I would do anything to protect Luka. The realization terrifies me almost as much as it thrills me.

We reach the gate, and I fumble with the latch, my hands slick with Luka's blood. Finally, it gives way, and we stumble out onto the quiet street beyond. The normal world seems surreal after the violence we've just escaped. Cars are parked along the curb, streetlights cast pools of yellow light, and in the distance, I can hear the faint white noise of traffic.

"My car," Luka pants, gesturing weakly down the street. "Black SUV. Keys... in my pocket."

I nod, adjusting my grip on his waist. "Just a little further," I encourage, though whether I'm reassuring him or myself, I'm not sure.

We make it to the car, and I help Luka into the passenger seat before running around to the driver's side. My hands shake as I start the engine, adrenaline making every movement feel jerky and uncoordinated.

As we pull away from the curb, leaving the Governor's mansion and its hidden dangers behind, I can't help but wonder what other secrets are waiting to be unveiled. And more importantly, how many more times will I have to choose between my old life and the dangerous, exhilarating world Luka has pulled me into?

The night air rushing through the open window is cool against my skin, a relieving juxtaposition to the warmth of Luka's blood on my hands. I glance over at him, his face pale in the sickly glow of the passing streetlights. He’s still conscious, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my heart race for reasons that are far from fear.

Whatever comes next, I know one thing for certain: nothing will ever be the same again. The woman who walked into that party earlier tonight is gone, replaced by someone stronger, someone willing to fight for what—and who—she wants.

As we disappear into the Moscow night, I make a silent vow. I will protect Luka, just as he's protected me. I will uncover the truth about my father's death, about Viktor's betrayal, about the dangerous world I've married into. And no matter what happens, I will not let this man I'm falling in love with slip away.