We laugh, and I reach for her again—this time, to pull her in for a hug. “You’re the best, you know.”
She pats my back. “That’s what sisters are for.”
Grateful tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away. I look back in the mirror, admiring the silhouette.
“You look great. And better yet, this dress is perfect for hiding a weapon.”
I arch a brow. “A weapon?”
“I was nervous about my first dinner as a Bratva wife, too,” she confesses. “My solution was to strap a knife to my thigh.”
I stare at her reflection, wide-eyed. “You went armed?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it helped me. All the men carry weapons, so why not me?” she explains. “I didn’t want to be left out. I never had to use it, but the point is that I knew it was there. That made all the difference.”
“Did you know how
