Page 58 of Bratva Hostage

I inspect the room for the hundredth time. It’s not a dungeon or the cell I envisioned it would be, but it’s no better. A bedroom, if you can call it that. The walls are bare, and there’s minimal furniture. There’s a dresser and a bed with stiff sheets that smell like mothballs, a single window locked and covered from the outside with what looks like plywood, and a door I already know is bolted shut.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. A day, maybe longer. I slept at some point, but not well. The worst part is that no one has told me anything. No questions. No threats. Just silence. That terrifies me more than anything else. My father doesn’t ignore problems. He doesn’t wait.

So why is he waiting now?

I press my hand over my stomach. The gesture is instinctual. Protective. I barely had time to accept what I learned before I was taken, but now, it’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely. My father can do whatever he wants to me, but my baby—Dimitri’s baby—will not grow up under his rule. I won’t allow it.

I sit on the bed and stare at the door, willing it to open. I need information. I need something to tell me what he plans to do with me. Killing me outright doesn’t seem like his style. I’m more useful as leverage, but for how long?

The lock turns.

I shoot to my feet, bracing myself as the door swings open. A man steps in first—one I recognize as one of my father’s guards. He has the same dead-eyed obedience I remember from childhood.

And then, my father walks in.

Evan Thorne is a man who has always carried himself like he owns every room he steps into. Even with his graying hair, there’s an aura of control around him, the kind that comes from decades of ruling with an iron fist. His expression is unreadable as he clasps his hands behind his back and studies me like I’m some insect under glass.

I don’t speak first. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“So,” he finally says, “you’re alive.”

I stare at him. “Disappointed?”

He huffs out something that might be amusement. “Not yet. But you are becoming a problem.”

“Just now? I’d think marrying into the Bratva would’ve bumped me to the top of your list months ago.”

His eyes darken, but his smirk doesn’t waver. He steps closer, and every instinct screams at me to move back, but I don’t. I plant my feet. I won’t let him see fear. “Tell me, Cecily, do you think Dimitri Barkov actually gives a damn about you?”

A muscle in my jaw twitches, but I keep my face blank. “Why do you care?”

He chuckles. “Oh, my dear, I don’t. But you should. Because if you think he’s going to burn his entire empire down to get you back, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I say nothing. I won’t play his game.

His smirk fades. “You’re not Seraphina. You never had her fire. You’re just a girl who was too naive to see where this path would lead.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, did he ever actually promise you a future? Or did you just assume?”

I don’t answer. It doesn’t matter what Dimitri said or didn’t say. I know what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. And even if I was wrong, even if Dimitri never comes for me, I won’t let my father be the one to break me.

Evan watches me for a moment longer before sighing, like I’ve already disappointed him. “You have two options, Cecily.”

Here it is.

“You can stay here, under my protection, where you belong.” His voice is smooth, coaxing. “I’ll let you have your freedom. You won’t be locked in this room forever. But you will sever ties with the Bratva.”

I scoff. “And the second option?”

“You die.”

A chill runs through me, but I don’t let it show. “Wow. What a generous choice.”

His smile vanishes. “You don’t understand the position you’re in. Dimitri won’t be able to save you. You can tell yourself whatever fairy tale you want, but the second he has to choose between you and his empire, he’ll pick his empire. His real family. Men like him always do.”

I don’t break eye contact. “And men like you always underestimate the people you think you own.”

For a second, just a second, something moves across his face. Annoyance, maybe. But then he smooths it away, and he exhales like I’m exhausting him.

“Think about it,” he urges as he turns for the door. “I’ll be back soon. Maybe by then, you’ll have realized where you belong.”

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