Page 2 of Bratva Hostage

Grigor and his brothers are ruthless enough to challenge Father. Of course, if he suspects they’re coming, he’ll tear me away to yet another hole. My father is cunning, but so are Grigor and his brothers. The moment they pinpoint him, a war is inevitable. Father must realize that too. Perhaps that’s why he’s so restless, always searching for a better hiding place.

Eventually, my eyes grow heavy. The stress has worn me down. I rest on the cot, tucking my arms under my head. My dreams are jumbled: memories of Seraphina braiding my hair when I was younger, Father shouting in the distance, the Barkov name echoing like a threat I can’t outrun.

I wake to find the place silent, except for a faint thud in the hallway. My guess is that guards are shifting positions or unloading supplies. I sit up, massaging the crick in my neck. A wave of emptiness settles over me. Days blur together in these hideouts. It’s always the same pattern of waiting, traveling, waiting again.

Time edges onward. A guard drops off a small plate of canned food. It’s salty, but it keeps the hunger pangs away. I force it down, telling myself I need strength to endure. After eating, I pace around, listening for any clue about my father’s next meeting. Nothing. The men outside speak too quietly to catch anything of use.

Eventually, I settle on the edge of the cot and fidget with a loose thread in my shirt. My father said we’d be staying here for a few days, and I wonder if he truly believes this location is secure. He must, or he wouldn’t take the risk of letting his menunpack the car. He’s always on edge, always suspecting that the Barkov family might arrive at any moment.

A commotion in the corridor makes me look up. Two guards exchange curt words about a delivery. I catch only fragments: something about extra ammunition, maybe a crate that needs to be unloaded. I doubt it’s good news for me. More supplies just give Father another reason to dig in. He might even plan a direct strike against the Barkovs from here. I haven’t gathered enough details to confirm, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

The door creaks open, and Father appears without knocking. “You look restless,” he observes. “Not planning anything foolish, I hope.”

I straighten my spine. “I’m not the fool here.”

He sighs. “You never did know when to hold your tongue.” He steps further into the room and crosses his arms. “We have more men arriving tonight. I suggest you stay out of their way.”

“More men?” My stomach tightens. “Why?”

“Don’t pretend you care about my business. But if you must know, I’m reinforcing our position. We’ll stay put for a while. If the Barkovs think they can corner me, they’re wrong.”

I bite back a retort. Challenging him openly won’t change anything, and it might provoke another lecture or worse. Instead, I keep my tone neutral. “What do you want from me?”

“Cooperation. And silence. You may hate me, but we’re still family.” He turns to leave, pausing to glance back. “Don’t get ideas about sending messages or sneaking out. My guards won’t let you take two steps beyond that door.”

The instant he’s gone, I exhale through clenched teeth as fury thrums in my veins. Family? He threw that word around even when he bartered Seraphina away to the Barkovs, and now he’s doing the same by holding me captive. If this is family, I’d rather not claim him at all.

I move to the window and nudge the plywood a fraction, hoping to see something of the outside. All I see is darkness and a swath of dead grass. No sign of deliverance. Still, I refuse to despair. Seraphina once managed to forge a path through his traps. She won’t stand idly by while I’m stuck in this dead-end situation.

A rap on the door startles me. It’s the same guard who brought my meal. “You good?” he asks. It feels like a pointless question, but I nod anyway. He disappears into the hallway, leaving me alone again with my tangled thoughts.

I settle onto the cot, pressing my fists to my temples. I can’t allow Father’s threats to consume me. If I’m not careful, resentment and hopelessness will bury every ounce of courage I have left. Instead, I hold onto the hope that Seraphina is out there, working behind the scenes. She may be forced to play by Barkov rules, but she’s never lacked determination.

Somehow, I’ll endure. Even if Father locks every door, even if he rallies an army, he won’t break my resolve. And if the Barkovs arrive in force—or if Seraphina manages to pry me out of here herself—I’ll be ready. I just have to hang on a little longer.

Chapter 1 - Dimitri

Evan Thorne’s name has been circling my desk for four months, and every new report feels like a personal affront. I hover over the worn folder spread out in front of me, rereading details on his activities. He’s clever, I’ll grant him that, but he’s also stupid enough to draw unwanted attention. We just haven’t been quick enough to corner the old bastard. Today, that changes.

I reach for the top page and skim the latest intelligence. He’s been moving from one hiding spot to another, dragging his daughter, Cecily, along. If it weren't for my sister-in-law, Seraphina, I might have let him self-destruct on his own. But Seraphina cares deeply about her younger sister. We are family now, which means I can’t allow that concern to go unanswered.

A knock on the door interrupts me. My brother Maksim enters, carrying a slim file. He places it on my table and fixes me with a direct look.

“New developments?” I ask.

“We suspect Thorne has hired extra muscle. One of our informants caught wind of a deal he made to acquire more guns.”

“Perfect.” I tap the open folder with two fingers. “He’s arming himself for something bigger, and we can’t let him gain the upper hand. We need to secure Cecily before he turns her into a bargaining chip.”

Maksim gives a grim smile. “We both know he already has.” He thumbs the edge of the file. “Seraphina is anxious. She asked me for an update just this morning.”

“That’s why we’re launching the extraction now. No more delays. Is Aleksei ready?”

Maksim inclines his head. “He’s coordinating the team. Akim is prepping transport. Nikolai is tying up loose ends from the last run.”

“Good. Thorne’s threats have spread far enough. Time we show him what happens when he targets our family.”

Maksim and I stride out of the small office. We pass a row of men stationed by the hallway walls. Each belongs to our specialized group within the Barkov Bratva, trained for swift operations. My father once called us the blade of the family, though I keep that memory locked away. My father is gone, and now the Barkov legacy rests with Aleksei, Grigor, Nikolai, Akim, Maksim, and me.

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