“That is fucking unacceptable. She doesn’t want—” “Misha!” It’s the only voice that has the power to stop me in my tracks. I turn to my wife, and she waves me over. The moment I’m close enough, she takes my hand and kisses it. “Misha,” she says again, “I know the Bratva is your life. But right now I don’t need you to be the don. I need you to be my husband.”
