He doesn’t wait to make sure I’m following him. He charges ahead, leaving me to trail along in his wake.
We get into the waiting car and drive to the ferry. From there, we head to the airport, where the Bratva’s private jet is waiting. Men stand outside the plane in black suits like funeral ushers.
It feels like I’m being pulled back into the same sunken nightmare world I just left.
The men stand a little straighter when they see Artem coming.
“Don Kovalyov,” one says to him with a bow as Artem passes by.
I suck in my breath as I begin to piece together what’s happened.
Something has happened to his father.
And now Artem has inherited the Bratva throne.
I stare at my husband’s back as he climbs the steps to the jet, but my legs feel cemented to the ground.
“Ma’am?” says one of the
