Page 1 of Bratva Hostage

Prologue - Cecily

My back hurts from sleeping on a battered sofa, but I’ve had worse accommodations this past month. My father, Evan Thorne, drags me from one hiding place to another, claiming it’s for my protection, even though I know better. This is about his vendetta against the Barkov family, not about my safety. Every time I open my eyes in a new location, I feel more like a possession than a daughter.

I’m not sure what this structure used to be. The floor is warped, and the walls are covered in stains. There’s a pungent odor that makes my nose burn, and the few windows are blocked off by plywood. My father’s men patrol outside, making it impossible for me to slip away. I’ve tried escaping twice. The second time earned me a bruise on my hip when a bodyguard threw me down. My father claimed it was my own fault for trying to run. He expects me to wait around like a tame pet.

It’s worked, to some extent. I’ve learned to keep still and quiet, to act compliant so no one suspects I’m gathering fragments of information. If I’m to survive—and possibly free myself—I need every advantage.

I think of Seraphina, my older sister, who ended up married to Grigor Barkov for my sake. If she sacrificed her freedom to shield me from Father, then I owe it to her to stay strong. I might be stuck under his authority now, but I refuse to let him break me.

Footsteps echo from a dark corridor, and when I look up, a guard appears. “Your father wants to see you.”

I rise slowly and follow. After a month of captivity, I’ve grown used to these abrupt summons. Usually, he demands thatI sit quietly while he outlines his next move against the Barkovs or scolds me for any sign of rebellion.

We reach a cramped area that might have once been an office but now contains only a table and two mismatched chairs. A small lamp on the tabletop sends faint illumination in a cone, but the rest of the place is cloaked in murk. He doesn’t look up until the guard steps outside, leaving me alone with him.

He flips a page and sets it aside, and he scowls when he finally meets my eyes. “We can’t stay here much longer.”

I’m not surprised. Every time he thinks the Barkovs might close in, he panics and relocates to another hole in the ground.

“Where are we going this time?” I ask, trying to sound neutral.

“You know I’m not telling you that. Get ready. If I see even a hint of insolence, I’ll lock you in the trunk like cargo. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Without a word, I turn toward the corridor. As I walk, I pass a side window boarded with two thick planks, a reminder that Father leaves no path open for me to vanish. His men cluster near a battered van, loading crates. My father has allies scattered across the region, fueling his aim to undermine the Barkov empire. Lately, I’ve overheard him mention an upcoming shipping route he wants to sabotage, but the specifics are limited.

I return to the sofa and pick up my small duffel. My bag holds a few clothing items we’ve picked up along the way. The guard from earlier is stationed close by. He says nothing, he just glances in my direction whenever I move.

When the guard signals, I follow him outside. Father lingers near an old SUV with tinted windows. Four men circle the vehicle and scan the surroundings before they open the doors.

He waves me over. “In the back,” he orders. “No talking.”

When I climb onto the back seat, I keep my duffel on my lap. Father sits up front beside a driver I’ve only seen once before. Another vehicle idles behind us, presumably holding more of his men. Two months ago, I couldn’t have imagined traveling in these conditions. Now, it’s my normal routine.

We lurch onto a cracked road. I remain quiet as I tune into my father’s conversation. He speaks to the driver about timing and possible watchers. The driver states they’ve changed course twice to ensure no one is tailing us. Father snorts at that suggestion, then tosses a glare over his shoulder.

My thoughts drift to Seraphina again. I imagine her standing in the Barkov mansion, insisting they search for me. She wouldn’t rest until she knew my fate. That hope keeps me from falling into total despair.

Time grinds on. We pass crumbling buildings and vehicles left to rot in empty parking lots. We pull off the main highway onto a rural route, and about half an hour later, we stop at a decaying property marked by rusted gates. Father steps out and eyes the perimeter. Men from the second vehicle emerge to open the gates, revealing a single-story dwelling with boarded windows.

“Bring her,” Father tells one of the guards, jerking his chin at me.

I exit the SUV, duffel in hand. The breeze cuts against my cheeks. Soldiers circle the place, checking for signs of intruders.Father, phone in hand, confers with a tall man who seems to handle logistics.

I’m directed inside. A corridor leads to several small rooms, all empty except for discarded furniture. The guard picks one near the back and gestures for me to enter. It has a torn cot, a bucket in the corner, and a battered nightstand. I swallow my revulsion at the thought of having to use that bucket if we stay overnight. This is my new prison, at least until Father becomes suspicious of the next rumored threat.

He appears at the doorway minutes later. “Get comfortable. We may remain here for a few days. My men will keep watch, and if you try anything, I’ll have them restrain you.”

Anger burns in my chest. “I’m not the one causing trouble. You are.”

A flash of annoyance crosses his face. “You should be thankful you’re alive, Cecily. If the Barkovs get hold of you, they might not treat you as kindly as I do.”

“Kindly?” I nearly choke on the word. “You’re using me as a hostage. How is that kind?”

He stares, then softens his tone a fraction. “This is bigger than your feelings. If you cooperate, I’ll make sure you survive. If you defy me, I can’t guarantee what happens.”

He leaves before I can reply, locking the door from the outside. I wait until his footsteps fade, then sink onto the cot. My head pounds with frustration. Is there any chance Seraphina knows where I am?

At least I know she’s resourceful. If she has any inkling of my whereabouts, she’ll push the Barkovs to rescue me. She was always protective, scolding anyone who messed with me. Now, she’s tied to a man known for crushing enemies. Part of mewonders if she’s found a measure of peace in that marriage, or if she’s enduring it purely for my sake. I used to resent her for seeming distant, but now I realize how much weight she carried for both of us.

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