And then it’s quiet.
The silence remaining makes me shudder. Nobody is speaking. Nobody is evenbreathing. After that attempted mutiny, I’m not sure what Pavel is going to do.
He almost seems like he isn’t going to do anything. Even the priest seems rattled by the extended quiet. The minutes stretch on until Pavel turns around to face the congregation—his Bratva.
“Does anyone else object?” he asks nonchalantly.
Deafening silence.
Roaringsilence.
The kind that settles over a town hours after it’s been blown to bits.
Pavel nods. “Good.” To the remaining brigadiers, he says loudly, “Bring me his stars.”
Gasps roll through the crowd. My eyes go wide when Pavel turns back to me. He motions for the priest to continue the ceremony, drawing me away from the horrified expressions in the congregation behind me.
Bring me his stars? What does that mean?
I’m shivering when the family is invited to the front for pictures. Viktoria and Karina join us, both of them motioning for me to smile. Their eyes tell me everything will be okay—eventually.
It’s hard to force happiness for a camera. Though the people around us seem alive with joy, I’m still trapped in the recent past, in the drama that exploded at our wedding.
I knew Cardona was going to react strongly to this, but Pavel’s own Bratva? It makes me wonder what else is happening behind the scenes that I don’t know.
I guess it’s nothing I need to be concerned about, right?
The photographer cracks jokes and engages everyone in conversation, contrasting the harsh vibration of Pavel’s command. While still trying to sort things out in my head, I’m guided back to the altar, where Pavel and I sign the act of marriage with the priest.
Rice and cheers hail us when we retreat down the aisle. Kostya appears at the exit door and holds it open, ushering us into an adjacent chapel. We’re led to another door that descends underneath the church, darkness swelling with every step I take.
I can’t shake the feeling I’m being drawn to my doom.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice feeling small in the cramped space.
Pavel squeezes my hand. “You’re being initiated.”
When we reach the bottom, it’s so cold that my teeth are chattering.
I’m not cold, I realize as I release Pavel’s hand to hug my shoulders.I’m fucking scared.
Brigadiers crowd the other end of the room. One of them steps forward and holds up a strip of leather soaked with something red.
“Pavel Sergeyevich.” The brigadier bows his head and says, “His stars.”
Pavel accepts the strip of leather with a vicious smile. “Did he scream?”
“Plenty.”
“Good.”
I blink rapidly while trying to keep up with the developing situation. The ceremony upstairs took so much of my energy that I’m having trouble comprehending anything right now.
What did they do to that man?
I take a shaky step forward. “What is that?”
“When a man is no longer a brigadier,” one of the men next to me says. “His stars are carved out from his chest and returned to the Pakhan.”