Page 63 of Stolen By the Bratva

“Thanks, Doc.”

I gasped again, knowing without a doubt that this cop was in on the setup.

“Let me go!” I shouted it louder, earning some glances as Lev dragged me down the alley.

“Let me go,” I shouted at him as he hauled me through the rain. “I want to go to my husband.”

He laughed darkly, pulling his hood lower as he dragged me toward a car parked in the alley.

My life flashed before my eyes again. The second he got me in that car and drove me back to my father, I would be dead. I would get no mercy, no chance to beg for my life. He didn’t value me, not for anything, especially after I’d defied him by marrying Alek instead of Andrey.

“He’ll be looking for me,” I screamed, desperate to return to the man I wanted to help. “My husband will be looking for me!”

“See if I give a fuck.”

“Lev, you can’t take me back. I don’t want to see my father.”

He scoffed. “Neither does he. He just wants you dead. Out of the picture, you traitorous bitch.”

“Just let me go!”

“No.” He shook my arm, moving me to hurry faster to his car. “If you can’t serve as a spy the way he wants you to, you’re good for nothing!”

Lev grabbed me as I dragged my feet, forcing him to turn and catch me.

He stopped short, lifting his face as we saw we weren’t alone in this alleyway.

A murderous glare locked on us.

Alek.

He came! Hope filled me, and I let out a cry of relief just at the sight of him in my darkest, most hopeless moment.

He stood there, cracking his knuckles with the promise of rabid rage in his dark eyes.

Like a premonition of pain, he looked ready to kill.

For me.

27

ALEK

Seeing Mila caught in the grip of Sergei Kastava’s top soldier’s hands sent me spiraling and sinking into a deep rage unlike anything else I’d ever felt. My arms and legs vibrated with the urgent need to inflict pain, and I let the wrath coat me like a shield.

I exhaled hard through my nostrils for a moment, letting this image etch into my brain. Because this would be the last time. This would be the very last time any man ever dared to touch my woman.

“Let go of my wife,” I ordered in a lethal tone that promised no mercy.

“Fuck you,” Lev sneered, shoving her to the side with no care for her slipping and falling into a puddle. Hearing her cry out at the rough handling stoked the fire and anger within. I fumed, overwhelmed with the immediate urge to end his life.

“You touch my wife and die,” I vowed. I’d slaughter him and slay every other motherfucker who dared to harm a hair on her head.

Mila was mine, and I would burn the goddamn world down for her if I had to.

He lifted his gun to aim it at me, but I wasn’t that stupid. I wouldn’t rise to his bait. We were right next to the station. Police officers and detectives would be swarming the area. Using guns would ensure that all the cops—including Murphy—would come running and intervene.

Sergei had already worked out some kind of a deal with the law enforcement to set the Valkov Bratva up. They would side with Lev here, not me, and I didn’t need to risk any more obstacles to getting Mila back in my arms and to safety.

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