I wrote my wedding vows with lies and loathing, Hurried into a pretend marriage with a gorgeous Bratva boss for all the wrong reasons, Drenched in a bitter hatred that slowly corroded into molten hot passion. And a shocking twin pregnancy that has me eating for three… But sometimes making peace with one enemy only creates new ones. Sometimes it means letting the past burn so a future can rise, And sometimes, like tonight, it means holding each other up as we walk away from the carnage, bound together by vows written in blood and sealed with a bullet. For better or worse. In hatred and love. Until death do us part. And in the Bratva, we mean every word.