Page 16 of Bratva Hostage

“A mistake?” she supplies.

“I told you, you’re here because of Seraphina. That’s all. We want Thorne neutralized, and we want you safe.”

She exhales, and her eyes move to the floor. “Fine.” Before she steps away, she speaks without looking at me. “I hate that I don’t know who to trust anymore. Even my own sister seems to be against me.”

My stomach twists at the pain in her voice. “You can trust me.”

She continues down the corridor without replying. I stand there, torn between wanting to chase after her and reminding myself that she’s not mine to chase. She’s a mission, a responsibility, an obligation to my family. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

Later that night, I’m back in the study, re-checking intelligence reports on Thorne. Akim provided some updates from an informant who believes Thorne is hiding near the docks. The information isn’t confirmed, but I note it for future reference. My phone buzzes with a message from Maksim, telling me the courier meeting is set for tomorrow. Everything is under control, yet I feel on edge.

I toss the folder onto the desk, pressing my fingers to my temples. My mind drifts to the conversation with Cecily. She asked me why I treat her as if she’s fragile one minute and then trap her the next. I didn’t have a good answer.

I walk to the window and stare out at the grounds. Guards stand at their posts, watchful and steady. Thorne is still out there, plotting. I can’t lose sight of that, no matter how much her kiss haunts me.

She’s a distraction I don’t want—a complication that ties my thoughts in knots. I remember her expression from earlier, the flash of pain that crossed her face when she confessed she doesn’t know who to trust. Part of me wanted to ease her fears, to reassure her. Another part of me wanted to stay as far away as possible. She’s off-limits. She’s Thorne’s daughter, and I have no business wanting her.

Yet I do.

I grit my teeth at the admission. My father always told me that desire is a weakness if you can’t control it. Right now, I’m not controlling it at all.

A knock on the door drags me from my thoughts. “Enter.”

The door opens, and Cecily steps inside. She avoids my eyes at first. Something about her stance suggests she’s not here to fight.

“I wanted to ask about the docking reports,” she says, gesturing to the papers scattered on the desk. “One of the guards told me Thorne might be near the water. Is that true?”

I rest a hand on the desk, measuring my response. She’s never taken an interest in our operations before, aside from pushing for her own release. “We’re following leads. Nothing is confirmed.”

She moves closer, and I fight the urge to step back. “Do you think he’s planning to attack the estate?” she asks quietly.

I exhale as I observe her face for any hint that she’s trying to get more information than she’s entitled to. “He might. He knows you’re here, and he wants to break the Barkovs in any way he can.”

“So he’d come for me, using the estate as a battleground?”

“Possibly. We won’t let that happen.”

She looks down at the files silently for a moment. Then she looks up at me with those hazel eyes, and I have to hold my breath. “Is it just business for you? Protecting me, fighting him, all of it?”

“It’s more than business,” I admit. “He hurt my family. He put you and Seraphina in danger. This is personal.”

She nods. “I thought so.”

She glances at the desk as she taps her fingers against the back of a chair. I watch her, and a strange warmth settles in my chest. This isn’t the fiery confrontation from earlier. It’s almost…calm. An uneasy calm, but calm nonetheless.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m…trying to understand what’s going on.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“I’m still angry,” she clarifies, though there’s a hint of apology in her tone. “Angry about all of this, about not having a choice.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I know.”

She lifts her eyes to mine again, and for an instant, we’re not captor and captive, not exactly. We’re two people caught in a complicated web, each trying to figure out how to survive.

“Sometimes, I think I hate you. Other times, I’m not so sure.”

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