Page 54 of Bratva Hostage

Part of me wants to pull her into my arms and promise that this is only temporary. Once I figure out who’s in that car, I’ll ease off. But I don’t know how long that might take, and every second she’s exposed is a second she could end up in Thorne’s line of sight.

“Do you really think the situation is that bad?” she questions.

“I think we’d be fools to assume otherwise.”

“I can’t do this. I won’t let you treat me like an invalid. If you truly believe in me, you’d know I wouldn’t carelessly wander into a sniper’s scope.”

“All it takes is one second of inattention, one stray bullet—”

She lifts a hand, cutting me off. “Stop. I’m tired of hearing how close I am to dying. I’d rather die on my feet than be caged.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive because I—” I break off, forcing myself not to reveal the depth of my feelings.

She notices, and she squints at me. “Because you what?”

“Because it’s my job to protect everyone under my roof.”

She barks a bitter laugh. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that’s the only reason.”

Her accusation hits home, but I can’t let her see how much it rattles me. “That car is still out there,” I say instead. “And until I know what it’s doing, the house remains on partiallockdown. You can stay in the interior quarters. I’ll assign guards.”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “This is exactly why I said you were no different than my father sometimes. You might not be as cruel, but you’re just as controlling.”

That hurts more than I expect. But maybe she’s right. Maybe I am controlling, out of a fear I can’t fully admit—fear that I’ve let her in too deep and now can’t bear to lose her.

She turns on her heel. “I’m done with this conversation.”

I step forward, wanting to stop her, but my phone buzzes again. A text from Maksim:The car’s gone. Another from a guard says:Clear perimeter, no sign of intruders.

I open my mouth to inform her the threat is gone, but she storms off before I can speak, stomping through the hallway and vanishing around the corner.

I guess this is how it ends tonight, with her furious and me convinced the only way to keep her breathing is to keep her under lock and key. I watch the space where she disappeared, and every fiber of me wants to chase after her, to beg her to forgive my iron grip on her freedom. But I can’t. If I chase her, I don’t trust myself to keep my feelings to myself.

So I stand still and let her storm away, listening to the echo of her footsteps in the silence. The worst part is knowing that tomorrow might bring the same argument, the same fear, and the same longing.

Because I’m falling for her, and it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever faced.

Chapter 20 - Cecily

I find out I’m pregnant on a Tuesday. Maybe that’s too mundane a day for something so colossal, but there it is. The test in my hand confirms what I can hardly wrap my head around.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub in my private bathroom, knees quivering, staring at a tiny plastic stick that changes everything. My heart pounds like it’s trying to break free from my rib cage. Two faint pink lines tell me that, despite the war raging around us, a baby is on the way. Our baby—mine and Dimitri’s.

It started with a nagging suspicion a few days ago: the obvious late period coupled with fatigue and a wave of nausea. I tried blaming it all on my nerves. When those symptoms refused to go away, I confided in Mila, one of the younger maids who’s been assigned to help me with errands. She’s the only one here who seems to treat me like a friend instead of the boss’s wife. I asked her to be discreet, and she promised.

She returned from a trip into town late last night, handed me the small box, and whispered, “Good luck.” Now, the proof stares back at me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.

A child changes everything. I have grown fond of Dimitri; somewhere between the forced marriage and the nights we’ve shared, my heart betrayed me. But I hate this environment. The Bratva’s shadow threatens to swallow any chance at a normal life.

The child isn’t even born, and I’m already terrified. Will it grow up confined the way I have been, moving from guarded hall to guarded hall? Will it learn that violence is the norm, that bullets and deals and territory define one’s existence? I swallowthe lump in my throat and lean against the sink. For a second, my vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall.

No. I won’t let my child endure what I have. I need a plan.

I hide the test in a pouch of toiletries under the bathroom sink. Then I splash water on my face, trying to steady myself. If Dimitri figures out I’m acting strange, he’ll press for answers. And if I tell him, I know exactly what will happen: more guards, more restrictions, more fear.

Yet part of me longs to run straight to him just to see his expression when he finds out. A baby might be the last thing either of us expected, but it might also be the only untainted thing in this entire war. I imagine his arms around me, reassuring me. Then I recall how he’s locked down half the estate to keep me “safe.” He doesn’t trust me enough to walk by a window without having a meltdown. How will he react if he finds out I’m carrying his heir?

I let out a shaky breath and exit the bathroom. I tiptoe down the corridor, passing one guard who nods at me, and head downstairs, trying to appear casual.

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