Page 8 of Forced Bratva Bride

A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, staring up at me defiantly.

God, she was good. I watched her face, studying the stubborn set of her jaw. Either she was the most accomplished liar I'd ever encountered, or she was telling a partial truth. Neither possibility changed my plans.

She must know something. She was the only sister to Gastone, Carlo, and Dino. She was a valuable tool, a trove of information waiting to be discovered. I knew what I had to do.

I would need to keep her around indefinitely. Day by day, second by second, I had to push her until she grew tired and broke. She was the key to uncovering her family’s plans, and there was no way I could let her go before I had all the answers, or at least some satisfactory ones.

I watched her nervously flicker her gaze to me and avert it again. I watched as she hunched into herself, her arms wrapped tight against her stomach. I watched every heave of her chest, every sign of her distress.

And I felt bad, I did. But not enough. “Your answers are of no use to me,” I said, coldly, as the detachment set into me.

Her breath caught. “What does that mean? What are you going to do?”

I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed her arm, my decision having been made.

“You had your chance to talk,” I said. “Now we do this the hard way and will keep doing it the hard way until you give me what I want.”

I yanked her toward me. She gasped, immediately struggling against my grip.

“Let go of me!” She twisted, her free hand coming up to claw at my face.

I caught her wrist before her nails could make contact, squeezing just hard enough to make her wince. “Don't make this worse for yourself,” I warned.

“You're insane,” she hissed, her earlier composure fracturing. “My brothers will kill you for this!”

“They can try.” I began dragging her across the living room, toward the hallway that led deeper into the mansion. “Many have tried before them, and frankly, they’re the ones dead.”

She fought me every step of the way. She was kicking and pulling. She even attempted to bite my arm at one point. I growled and jumped back to save my skin, but kept my grip on her tight.

God, she fought like a wildcat. Her hair whipped across both our faces, and her voice echoed threats she would never fulfill. She lashed and thrashed with all her might to get free, but I was stronger.

“Please,” she begged me when she lost her strength to fight me as I forced her down the corridor. “Whatever you think I know, I don't. I swear on my mother's grave.”

“Don't,” I growled. “Don't bring your dead into this. It won't help you.”

We passed through the kitchen, where two of my men stood guard and watched me drag a woman through the house without giving out a reaction. One opened the heavy door that led to the basement stairs without being asked.

Larissa's struggles intensified when she saw the darkness beyond. “No,” she gasped. “No, please, not down there.”

There was something in her voice, a vulnerability that shone through. She seemed truly petrified, and for a moment, I weakened and let my mind consider alternatives. But then I thought of my family. I needed the best fighting chance to protect them, and if she feared the basement, perhaps she’d break faster.

I pushed my doubts away. “Last chance to tell me what your family is planning.”

“I told you, I don't know!” Her voice broke on the last word, tears finally spilling onto her cheeks.

I hardened my heart against the sight. “Then you leave me no choice.”

The stairs were steep, forcing me to half-carry her down them to keep us both from falling. At the bottom, I flipped a switch that illuminated the converted space from basement to prison. There were metal bars to hold her in a cell, which contained a cot, a sink, and a small enclosed toilet.

Larissa went rigid when she saw it. “You can't keep me here,” she whispered, her voice hollow with disbelief. “People will look for me.”

“Let them look.” I propelled her toward the cell, fishing the key from my pocket. “By the time anyone traces you to me—if they ever do—you could be here for years.”

I unlocked the door and shoved her in. She grabbed the bars, trying to hold the door open, but I was stronger and pulled it shut. Her feet slid against the floor as she clung to the door with every dying hope.

At last, I managed to shut the cell door, and it locked automatically. She stumbled, steadied herself against the wall, and then whirled to face me, her hands wrapping around the bars.

“You won't get away with this!” she said with pure fury. “My brothers will tear this city apart looking for me and when they do, you’ll realize what a mistake you made, you hear me?”

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