Page 59 of Bratva Hostage

He walks out with his guard following, and the lock clicks behind them.

I sit heavily on the bed. My hands are shaking, but I press them flat against my thighs and force myself to breathe.

I don’t have much time. I need to get a message to Dimitri. But how?

The guards won’t listen, and I doubt my father leaves anything unmonitored. But there’s one person who might help. Someone who’s been here longer than almost anyone. Someone who, despite her loyalty to my father, has always had a soft spot for me.

Marta.

While she was technically just a maid and not our nanny, she practically raised me. After my mother passed away, it was she who tucked Seraphina in at night. She’d sneak us treats from the kitchen when we weren’t allowed to leave our rooms. She never outright defied my father, but she was the only warmth in a house filled with coldness. Surely, when she realizes I’m here, she’ll come for me.

I don’t have to wait long. A few hours later, she enters with a tray of food, but she keeps her eyes downcast. But when she sets the tray on the nightstand and glances at me, she looks…sad.

“Marta,” I whisper, stepping closer.

She presses her lips together. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

“I didn’t.”

Her face falls even more, but she doesn’t ask for more information. She just exhales and turns toward the door.

I grab her wrist before she can go. “Please. I need your help.”

“No, Cecily.”

“Marta, listen to me.” My voice shakes, but I don’t let go. “You know my father. You know what he’s capable of. If you let him keep me here, you know how this ends.”

She closes her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I push. “He will never spare me, not if it suits him. He wouldn’t have spared Seraphina if she had stayed, and he won’t spare you if you ever get in his way.” I squeeze her wrist. “You know I’m right.”

She lets out a slow breath. I see the conflict in her eyes. The years of obedience warring with the part of her that still cares. But then she pulls her wrist free and grips the tray so hard her knuckles go white.

“Marta,” I whisper. “Please. I’m…I’m pregnant, Marta.”

She whirls to look at me. For the first time, her mask slips. I see the anguish there, the regret, the horror. She knows exactly what that means.

A tear streaks down her cheek. She lifts her gaze to the ceiling, swallowing hard.

And then, she leaves.

The door shuts, and I hear the bolt slide. The tears come before I can stop them. This isn’t how I thought things would go. I imagined Marta would sweep me away, whisk me to safety, and everything would be okay. Instead, I feel the crushing weight of the walls, the hopelessness creeping in.

My baby. My poor, helpless baby.

I wrap my arms around my stomach. There has to be a way out. I have to find one, for his or her sake.

But how?

I sink onto the bed and rest my forehead against the wall. The tears don’t stop, but I won’t let myself scream. If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I just have to hope that Dimitri will find me. That somehow, he can track me down before my father decides he’s finished waiting.

He has to.

I close my eyes, trying to remember what it felt like in his arms. That security. The peace. It feels so far away now.

Why the hell did I run away? I’ve always been so stubborn. So convinced that I can fix things on my own. And now I might lose everything, all because of my pride. If I had just listened to him, let him protect me, we might not be here right now.

I hate that I might never see Dimitri again. The thought cuts deep. I love him. God, I do. But there’s no chance to tell him now.

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