Page 10 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

Tears streamed from my eyes, and my lips quivered, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

“Padre,” Daniel called the priest’s attention. “Continue.” He looked at me, a mischievous, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

The priest hesitated for a moment, shaking like a leaf. But as soon as a gun was pointed at his head, he steeled himself and cleared his throat, ready to do as instructed.

And just like that, my wedding turned into a nightmare—one filled with chaos, pain, and suffering. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, a day that I would always remember for good. But Daniel stole that experience from me and forced me to marry him, slipping a blood-stained ring onto my finger.

I could say no, I could resist, but what end? Daniel had already beaten my fiancé half to death, and he wouldn’t mind staining the floor with my father’s brains. He was just that kind of man—cold, ruthless, and evil.

My jaw clenched, uncontrollable tears trickling down my cheeks as my heartbeat escalated, my pulse quickening. The choice was this: Say yes to this devil and spend the rest of my life in misery, or say no and paint the church red with the blood of my family, of those I loved.

My hands trembled, my whole body shuddered, and I sweated in uncomfortable places. Yet, despite the fear, terror, and confusion in my tear-filled eyes, this man simply looked at me and smiled, unfazed by my struggles.

This was the day I would die because it didn’t matter what choice I made; I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. As I weighed my options and held Daniel’s gaze, fear turned to hate, and my jaw tightened, my face contorted in disdain. Yet, he didn’t seem to give two shits.

Daniel had me trapped. He had my whole family in the palm of his hands. If I somehow managed to survive this humiliation, I’d hate him for the rest of my life.

That was a fact.

Chapter 5 – Daniel

I put my foot down, slamming on the accelerator as the city whooshed past my speeding vehicle. A smirk twisted on the corners of my lips as my grip tightened around the steering wheel. I stole a glance at my new bride riding shotgun, her head lowered with hands on her lap.

She’d been quiet all through the drive—obviously still processing the swift turn of events. What was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, in a jiffy, switched to her most horrible nightmare. What a heartbreaking predicament.

She should blame her ex-fiancé and her father because they were the reason she was in this mess, to begin with. As satisfying as stealing her on the altar was, there was still this pit in my stomach that wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. I still felt so much hatred for the O’Sullivans and the Callahans, even with their most precious bride by my side.

I hadn’t even had a good look at the girl yet; I was too busy planning the next phase of my evil plot. The O’Sullivans wouldn’t sit back and fold their arms—they’d try something, and I had to be ready for whatever approach they might take.

I’d already thought deeply about this; I’d done the math and calculated every possible outcome of my actions, and in every scenario, I was at least two steps ahead. The O’Sullivans and the Callahans together were no match for my master plan. They were in so much shock to cook up a good retaliation scheme.

Again, I had the upper hand.

The sun had set, and darkness had fallen over the cityscape. However, the streets were abuzz with loud music, flashy billboards, and twinkling skyscraper lights.

My new bride’s feminine perfume filled the car’s cabin, tinged with the underlying scent of her fear and anxiety. I could almost hear the sound of her heart beating, racing like a galloping horse. Her shoulders were slumped in dismay, and her eyes were fixed on her feet. She absently toiled with her manicured fingers.

A thousand thoughts must be overlapping in her mind at the moment. She must be thinking of a billion things at the same time. Killing me had got to be her most dominant thought because, despite her fear, I could also sense her hatred and anger, although she was more terrified than furious.

Again, her family was to be blamed for her predicament, not me. I wasn’t sure whether she knew that her ex-fiancé was a complete dick, an asshole who defiled an innocent girl without any sort of remorse. If she was aware of this, then she was just as guilty as he was. But if she wasn’t, then she should thank the heavens that she dodged a bullet. Liam was a pervert disguised as an honorable man, and her father went ahead to cover up for him.

They’d messed with my family—they’d messed with the Tarasovs—and it was stupid of them not to expect a rash reaction from us.

I glanced in her direction again, satisfied with her terror. It was awfully quiet in the car, with only the gentle hum of the engine punctuating the air. It was boring, and so I decided to toil with her for fun. “You know, you’re making mountains out of molehills,” I said to her, my voice low and even.

She raised her head and looked at me, her eyes shining with shock at the audacity in my tone. Bewilderment washed over her face, and her lips wouldn’t stop quivering. Her brows knitted together, forming faint creases between them, while her expression darkened ever so slightly.

I’d struck a nerve. Good.

“You wanted a wedding, and I gave you one. What’s the big deal?” I teased, my smirk broadening.

She glared at me but didn’t say a word. Instead, she looked out the window, avoiding my eyes. Before she tore her gaze off me, I caught a glimpse of something fiery in her eyes—a hint of defiance and stubbornness, probably something even deeper than that.

A few minutes passed, and she still didn’t speak to me until we approached a gas station. “I need to use the restroom,” she whispered under her breath.

“What?” I glanced at her again, my voice tinged with suspicion.

She turned in my direction and repeated herself, a little bit more audible this time. “I need to use the restroom.”

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