All Chapters of A Bride For A Truce: Chapter 71 - Chapter 76

ADRIKThe scent of toasted brioche and cinnamon wafted through the air as I stepped into the kitchen, fastening the last button on my cuffs.She stood by the stove in nothing but one of my shirts, sleeves rolled up, bare legs brushing the cool tiles. The morning light spilled across her highlighting her Auburn hair.I leaned against the doorway, my arms crossed. “You’re really trying to keep me home, aren’t you?”She glanced back with a smirk. “You think this is enough to keep you from the Bratva world?”I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and nuzzled the side of her neck.“No,” I said against her skin. “But it makes me wish I could leave it behind.”She stilled for a second. Then she flipped the egg in the pan and exhaled. “Then come back in one piece. That’s all I ask.”I kissed her shoulder, letting my lips linger on her waist. “Always.”And in that moment I felt peace. The kind only she could give me. The kind that felt like home.

SERA It had been three days since Adrik found out about the letters. Three days of him giving me half-hearted nods and distance. He still spoke to me. Technically. But every word was clipped. Every glance, cold. Like he was forcing himself to remain civil. Like the quiet war inside him hadn’t yet decided whether to forgive me—or shut me out for good. This morning, I caught him swimming laps in the rooftop pool. His strokes were sharp, methodical, and angry. With each stroke, his muscles flexed and I couldn't help but admire him. I padded in quietly, my robe wrapped tight around me. My fingers twisted the sash nervously as I stood at the edge of the water. “Adrik?” I said gently. He didn’t stop. “Can we talk?” He came up for air, pushing wet hair out of his face. “Oh wow. Someone suddenly wants to tell her husband things,” he said sarcastically. “Please,” I said, stepping closer. He rested his arms on the edge, water dripping down his shoulders. “You shou

Adrik’s Pov Sergei slid the folder across the table like it was just another dossier. But we both knew it wasn’t. I didn’t reach for it. Not yet. “What do you have for me?” “We confirmed it,” he said, his tone was quick and to the point. “Matteo Ricci. A camorra soldier. Former foot soldier. He’s been climbing the ranks for years. He kept his nose clean on paper, but he’s one of theirs.” I opened the file slowly, flipping through photographs, phone logs, surveillance records. Pages of Matteo’s activity from the last six months. Then one image hit like a gut punch. It was Matteo walking into that café in the mall. The same one Sera, Irina, and Diana had visited months ago. My jaw clenched. “That day…” I murmured. “When a man bumped into Sera. She found a letter slipped into her bag warning her not to trust me.” Sergei tapped the photo. “He’s the one who planted it. We traced a burner phone he used. He made a call less than an hour later. That number is tied to Viktor P