Page 24 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride

She was here. That was for sure.

Judging by the looks of things, she’d left in a hurry; perhaps someone had tipped her off that I was coming. Alessia was on the run again. My lips curled into a shallow grin, intrigued by her determination to evade me.

“Sir,” one of my men called my attention. “We’ve searched everywhere in the house. She’s not here.”

I turned around to meet his gaze, and for just a moment, my gaze shifted to the cup of tea on the table. Without a word, I headed toward the piece of furniture and picked up the cup, lifting it to my face. It was still a bit warm. This only meant one thing: It hadn’t been long.

“Spread out. Find her,” I ordered, my voice deep and husky. “She can’t have gone far.”

“Boss,” Andrei called, rushing up to me. “You might wanna see this,” he said, extending an iPad displaying a blurry image of a woman in a car. “I tampered with the CCTV cameras in the streets, and look who I found driving up the highway.”

My eyes squinted at the woman in the aerial photo. The shot was taken from an angle that captured her face as she looked out the window in the driver’s seat.

It was her. It was my Alessia.

“We have her exact location, sir,” Andrei added, his tone laced with conviction. “She’s heading out of town.”

“Good job.” I patted his shoulder and raised my head. “Now, let’s go hunting.”

The engine growled beneath me as I tightened my grip on the wheel. My convoy fanned out behind me in synchronized formation. The landscape blurred past—trees, fences, distant barns—swept aside by the speed of their pursuit. I leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed behind tinted windows, scanning the stretch of road ahead.

Then I saw it, the same vehicle from the footage Andrei had shown me. It darted along the two-lane highway like awounded animal running from a predator. It was her. It was Alessia. I was sure of it.

My expression darkened, and I slammed on the accelerator, the engine roaring as I surged forward. The speedometer needle climbed to three digits, and my grip tightened around the steering wheel. Despite the howling wind, my focus was unshakeable, eyes on the target—the prize.

Within seconds, my car pulled alongside hers, our windows nearly level. I glanced in her direction, glaring at her pale features, eyes wide with alarm. Fear was evident in her gaze, and her breath hitched. She had one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other on her belly.

Our eyes locked.

My gaze was cold steel—unforgiving and unreadable. However, something savage burned beneath the surface. Hers was pure panic, fear laced with a flicker of disbelief. I watched her lips tremble slightly, eyes misting. She tore her gaze off mine and slammed her foot on the gas, her car lunging forward.

A sly smirk played on my lips, but I didn’t blink. I let her believe, for a moment, that she could escape again. That hope could exist. That freedom was within reach.

As her vehicle accelerated onward, I gave the signal—a slight nod to the man in the SUV beside me.

He nodded back and stuck his gun out the window, aimed the barrel upward, and then squeezed the trigger. A bullet rang out, tearing through the air, a warning. But she still didn’t stop. He looked at me again and nodded. This time, he aimed at her vehicle, and with one precise shot, he fired. The gunshot shattered through the air and met its mark.

I could almost hear her screams as her vehicle jolted hard, the rear tire bursting in a spray of rubber and sparks. The vehicle spun violently, screeching as it spun out of control. She struggled with the wheel against the momentum, her vehicleskidding off the road. Its tires screeched loudly before slamming into a street lamp with a sickening thud.

The impact crumpled the car’s hood, steam rising from it as one headlight flickered out.

I eased my vehicle to a halt just a few yards ahead, and the rest of my convoy closed in around me. Quietly, I stepped out of the car, my footsteps slow and deliberate as I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt.

The wreckage was just ahead, and seconds later, I stood across from it, watching her with a blank expression.

Her head was slightly bleeding at the side, her hands wrapped protectively over her belly. Weakly, she turned to face me, fear and anxiety flickering in her gaze. I glared at her, my jaw tightening as I pondered what to do to her. She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling in sheer terror. There was nowhere else to go. The chase was over, and she’d been caught.

Without a word, she pushed the door open and struggled to step out of the vehicle. The moment both her feet touched the ground and she straightened, my expression darkened, and my eyes widened slightly. Her stomach was huge and swollen. She was…pregnant?

My scowl deepened, forming creases between my furrowed brows as I tried to process this shocking revelation. A mix of confusion and fury surged through me as I took slow, menacing steps forward. Had another man touched her? How dare she give what was mine to someone else?

I felt an incredible amount of rage sprinting across my whole body. It was a blend of jealousy and anger. And at this point, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do to her.

Her chest heaved with rapid breaths as I halted before her, my fury growing by the second. I looked down at the roundness of her belly, then met her gaze again, my face contorted into a frown. My hand snapped out, gripping herjawline as I leaned in, eyes boring into hers. “You’re pregnant?” I questioned, my tone dripping with venom.

She struggled to nod beneath my grasp, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Who’s the father? Who’s responsible for this?” I asked, my blood boiling in my veins.

---