Page 37 of Bratva Hostage

He doesn’t have to ask. I’m too exhausted to move. My whole body is buzzing, and an odd sense of peace has settled over me. My thoughts are silent. All the rage and resentment I’ve felt have faded into a state of numbness.

I glance over, watching him. He looks exhausted. Sweat still gleams on his chest. His hair is damp, and his expression is softer than usual. He’s gorgeous.

The thought takes me by surprise. I’ve hated him from the moment we met. And yet, I’ve also seen glimpses of kindness, moments when he’s proven himself honorable and strong. Now that the adrenaline is fading, those memories rise in my mind, mingling with the ones that are fresher. I’m not sure what to think.

But he still hasn’t made good on his promise to let me see Seraphina.

“Dimitri,” I say, and he rolls his head to look at me. “About my sister.”

He blinks, and a shadow crosses his face. “Right. I’m going to keep my word. You’ll see her soon.”

“How soon? You said it would be today. I understand something came up, and I’m trying to be patient, but—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Tomorrow. I’ll bring you to see her tomorrow.”

A cautious relief trickles through me. Tomorrow. Finally, I’ll see her again. I can’t wait.

Chapter 15 - Dimitri

Today is the day Cecily sees her sister. This single trip demands more caution than half the missions I’ve led. We’re traveling light, no bulletproof convoy or gaudy show of power. We need minimal fanfare so Thorne’s men won’t notice Cecily leaving the estate and follow us to Seraphina, thereby putting them both at risk.

“We’ve mapped the route,” Aleksei explains. “I hope you’re ready to dodge any watchers who might be lurking.”

“I’m ready,” I answer as I nod toward the row of vehicles. Two SUVs, a driver and guard in each, plus me and Cecily. “We keep it small. That’s the entire point.”

He isn’t convinced. “Your plan is workable, but if Thorne intercepts…”

“I won’t let that happen. Our men are posted along the route, discreet but prepared. If someone tries to follow, we’ll know.”

“Grigor wants his protocols upheld. Seraphina’s safety is a priority for him, and we can’t compromise it.”

“I’m fully aware. This visit is about bridging a gap, not exposing them.”

“Fine. I’ll keep an eye on everything from here. Signal me if there’s an emergency.”

Without another word, Cecily climbs into the rear seat of the lead SUV. I follow and take the spot next to her. Our driver, a young man I trust, glances in the rearview mirror. I give him a nod, and we pull out with the second SUV behind us.

The estate gates open on command to let us slip onto a quiet road. Cecily stares out the window, clearly anxious, judging by her posture.

I clear my throat and tell her, “As promised, we’ll keep a low profile. No big convoys or flags that scream Barkov.”

She gives the barest tilt of her head. “I appreciate that. I don’t want Seraphina’s safehouse to become a target.”

A part of me wants to reassure her further, but I leave it at that. There’s no way to guarantee anything in this world. We ride in silence for several minutes, heading west. Occasionally, the driver updates me about a turn or cross street. I keep an eye on the mirror, watching for suspicious vehicles. So far, no sign of anything unusual.

Eventually, we approach a quiet residential area. It looks ordinary: small houses with gardens and winding lanes that never see heavy traffic. This anonymity is exactly why Grigor chose it for Seraphina. Maksim’s SUV follows us closely, turning whenever we do.

We pull up to a familiar single-story house with a modest porch. Grigor’s guards keep watch. Their presence is subtle—a man cleaning up branches on the side, another leaning by a shed. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was a casual suburban scene.

Cecily leans forward in her seat. “This is it?”

“Yes. Seraphina’s inside.”

The SUV stops, and I jump out first to inspect our surroundings. The second SUV pulls in behind us. Maksim steps out, taps his phone, then signals that everything is clear. I help Cecily out of the vehicle and guide her toward the gate. She pullsher arm free but doesn’t snap at me. We’re both on edge but for different reasons.

We enter the yard. One of Grigor’s men comes up to tell us, “They’re waiting inside.”

“Thanks.” I glance at Cecily, who purses her lips as she eyes the house. It must be surreal seeing her sister’s location guarded by men with guns who aren’t employed by her father.

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