Page 28 of Bratva Hostage

“If you’re part of this family, visiting your sister is less risky. We won’t compromise her or you by reuniting you too soon. Once we’re married, that changes.”

“That changes, because you’ll have me on a leash like a show dog.” I can’t keep the bitterness from seeping into every syllable.

He lowers his head for a moment, then looks at me with steely resolve. “It’s the only concession I’m making. Either accept the marriage or continue living in limbo. You can rail against me all you want, but this decision is final.”

I turn away and pace a few steps to burn off the fury simmering beneath my skin. My thoughts race back and forth. Part of me wants to scream that I’d rather risk everything than marry him. Another part remembers that phone call with Seraphina and how desperate she sounded to ensure my safety. A new wave of guilt washes over me. If marrying Dimitri means I can see my sister, maybe she’d want me to go through with it. But then I picture myself in a wedding dress, forced to vow loyalty to a man I barely trust. The thought makes my stomach churn.

Dimitri remains silent while I wrestle with my emotions. Finally, I turn, my voice low. “What if I run before the wedding? Do you think you can stop me?”

His reply is immediate. “You won’t make it off the property. My men will watch every exit, every door, every path. Even if you slip out, Thorne’s men wait beyond the gates. You’d be trapped between us.”

“So I’m cornered, is that it? You’ve removed every possible choice from my life.”

“I know it feels that way. But at least I’m keeping you alive. If Thorne gets you, do you honestly believe he’d let you stay free? Or see your sister again? He’d hide you away for his own ends, and nobody would find you.”

A cold shiver trickles down my spine. My father is capable of horrors I don’t want to imagine. I hate Dimitri for being right. “This is still wrong.”

“I won’t pretend it’s ideal.” He presses a hand over his face for a moment, then drops it. “I’m protecting you the only way I know how. Fight it all you want, but you’ll see it’s necessary.”

“I hope you enjoy living with someone who despises you, because that’s what you’re signing up for.”

He steps closer, ignoring my attempt to maintain distance. “Hate me if you have to, as long as it keeps you alive.”

I glare up at him. He’s so certain, so unyielding, and it ignites every rebellious bone in my body. My voice drops to a low hiss. “Then enjoy your forced marriage, because I won’t smile for you. I won’t share your bed willingly, and I won’t be the docile bride you imagine.”

“As if I could ever imagine you a docile,” he replies with a low chuckle. “I’ll let you calm down. Tomorrow, we finalize the details. Be ready.”

I swallow the acidic reply clawing at my throat. He slips out, leaving the door open behind him, as if to taunt me with the knowledge that I can’t escape.

I stand there with my heart pounding and tears of rage burning at the corners of my eyes. The gall of him, ordering me to marry him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe in the twisted Bratva realm it is, but to me, it’s just another prison. Another noose around my neck. My father forced Seraphina into a marriage for his gain, and now Dimitri is using me as a pawn in his war with my father. I can’t breathe for the fury choking me.

A snarl rips from my lips as I sweep my arm across the desk, sending papers tumbling to the floor. An inkwell topples, and liquid splatters across the polished surface. The entire act does little to soothe my anger, but I relish the momentary release, the small show of defiance.

I step around the mess, ignoring the scattered papers. Dimitri claimed he was not like my father, but at least my father never pretended it was for my protection. He never spouted lines about caring for my well-being. He just took what he wanted.

Dimitri’s brand of tyranny is different. He frames it as saving my life, and maybe he’s not wrong that my father is a bigger threat. But at least with him, I know the enemy I face. Here, I’m wrestling with a complicated mixture of safety and oppression. He’s saving me, while also binding me.

I force myself to breathe deeply and count to ten. Once my shaking subsides, I think about Seraphina. My sister is out there in a safehouse, possibly as frustrated as I am, though in a different way. If marrying Dimitri means I can finally see her, hold her, and be certain she’s truly alright, how can I outright reject that possibility? And yet, how can I accept a forced marriage under these circumstances?

Conflicting emotions battle in my mind. I feel tears threatening again, but I blink them away. I’ll never let Dimitri see me cry over this. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s pushed me into a corner. I remember the vow I made to myself the day he brought me here: I’d fight for my freedom, no matter how impossible the odds.

If he wants a war of wills, I’ll give him one. I may not have an army, but I have my own resilience. I’ll bide my time, seeking any opportunity to slip away or sabotage his plans fromthe inside. Let him boast that making me his wife solves all his problems. I’ll prove him wrong.

I close my eyes for a second, breathing through the onslaught of emotions. Tomorrow, everything shifts. Tomorrow, Dimitri will expect me to yield. I won’t. He might drag me into some twisted ceremony, but I’ll be plotting every second. That’s my promise to myself.

I open my eyes, feeling steadier than before. If a marriage is inevitable, I’ll turn it into a battlefield. He’ll see just how resilient I am, how impossible it is to tame me. Father tried. Father failed.

Dimitri will fail, too.

Chapter 11 - Dimitri

I hurl a stack of papers against the wall as soon as I’m alone, sending them fluttering across the floor. My office door is closed, but I half-expect one of my brothers to barge in and question my sanity. If anyone did, I’d claim this is just another day dealing with Barkov business. That would be a lie.

I should feel detached about this upcoming marriage, the way I usually handle important deals or expansions of our territory. That’s how I’ve trained myself—no room for emotion, no space for anything that might compromise my focus. Yet I keep picturing the way Cecily scowled when I told her she’d be my wife. I keep replaying how she spat her outrage at me, and it’s killing me.

I rub my palms over my face and inhale through clenched teeth. If he were still around, my father would have called this a moment to prove that I’m capable of doing anything for the family. Duty first. Always. The thought grates on me because I haven’t felt entirely dutiful about this choice. I’ve felt something else, something I shouldn’t crave.

A knock sounds on the door. “Dimitri?” Aleksei’s voice. “We need to finalize the steps for tomorrow.”

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