Page 7 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

I try to struggle, fight back, or do any of the things that women are supposed to do when they find themselves in situations like this, but the truth is that all the self-defense classes in theworld didn’t prepare me for the reality of being overpowered by someone who’s bigger, stronger, and clearly more experienced at this kind of violence than I am.

The last thing I see before everything goes dark is the brick wall of the alley spinning away from me as my attacker carries me toward what I assume is a waiting vehicle. The last thing I think is that I should have listened to Jessie when she told me to be more careful about working late shifts alone.

The last thing I feel is a sharp pinch in my neck, like a bee sting, followed by a warmth that spreads through my veins like honey.

Then nothing.

4

Nikandr

Sabrina is awake when we reach the safehouse, wide-eyed, furious, and fighting every second of it. The sedative has worn off enough for her to be fully conscious, but she’s unsteady on her feet, and there’s a thunderous headache written across her features. She tried to fight Viktor when he helped her from the car, nearly landing a solid kick to his ribs before I intervened.

I steady her with a hand on her elbow that she immediately tries to shake off. “Easy.”

The converted boutique hotel rises before us through the trees, all natural stone and elegant lines that suggest wealth rather than the fortress it actually is. It’s designed to look like a wealthy businessman’s weekend retreat, and the deception has served us well over the years. Security measures are built into every inch of the property, from bulletproof glass to motion sensors hidden among the landscaping.

Viktor pulls into the circular driveway, and through the windshield, I see Maksim waiting near the entrance with the expression he reserves for moments when he thinks I’ve made a catastrophically bad decision. His arms are crossed, his posture rigid, and even from this distance, I feel his disapproval.

She doesn’t resist when I help her walk from the SUV, but I can feel the tension coiled in her muscles like a spring under pressure. She lost her shoes in the process of subduing her and bringing her to the SUV back at the club. Her bare feet are already dirty from the ground, and she’s lost one of her earrings somewhere. She’s calculating distance to the tree line, memorizing the layout of the driveway, and looking for anything that might give her an advantage if she decides to run.

Smart woman. Unfortunately for her, I’ve thought of everything she’s thinking of and quite a few things she hasn’t. The property is surrounded by motion sensors, and the nearest road is miles away through dense forest that would be nearly impossible to navigate in the dark.

Maksim approaches us with a controlled fury in his posture. His expression flashes with irritation at the situation I’ve created. “We need to talk.”

I nod toward the building. “After I get her settled.”

He glances to the woman beside me, taking in her disheveled appearance and the way she’s holding herself like she’s ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice. “This wasn’t the plan.”

I keep walking toward the entrance. “Plans change.”

He falls into step beside me, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Not like this they don’t.”

She’s clearly listening to every word of our exchange, filing away information for future use. It occurs to me that bringing her here might have been a mistake, but it’s too late for second thoughts now. The decision was made the moment I saw her in that alley, the moment every instinct I’ve developed over thirty-four years of survival screamed she was the key to everything.

“What do you want? Why have you kidnapped me?”

The fury in her voice as she demands answers cuts deeper than any weapon might. She’s not crying or begging like most people would in her situation. Instead, she’s watching everything with calculating intelligence that makes me wonder if I’ve underestimated her completely.

Her voice is hoarse but steady, with an undertone of steel that suggests she’s not going to break easily, asking new questions when I don’t answer the first round. “Where the hell am I? What do you want from me?”

I don’t reply immediately. Not yet. First, I need to get her somewhere secure, where we can have a proper conversation without Maksim’s disapproval and without the risk of other staff members overhearing details they don’t need to know.

The interior of the safehouse maintains the upscale hotel aesthetic that provides perfect cover for our operations. The marble floors were imported from Italy, tasteful artwork adorns the walls and silk wallpaper, and the furniture implies wealth without being overly flashy. The lobby area features a reception desk that’s usually unmanned but equipped with surveillance equipment that would make government facilities jealous.

She takes it all in with the kind of wide-eyed appreciation that suggests she’s not used to this level of luxury, which is anothermark in the “not Irina Volkov” column. Irina grew up in wealth and privilege before she chose to throw it all away for ideology and revenge. This woman’s reaction to expensive surroundings feels genuine in a way that would be difficult to fake.

But then again, Irina is tricky. I can’t be too careful.

I lead her down a hallway lined with doors that look identical but serve very different purposes. Some are guest suites designed for extended stays, others are interrogation rooms equipped with soundproofing and restraints, and a few contain equipment that most people would prefer not to think about. The carpeting is thick enough to muffle footsteps, and the lighting is designed to be both elegant and functional.

The suite I’ve chosen for her is on the second floor, far enough from the main operations areas to provide some privacy but close enough that she’ll never be truly alone. The keycard system ensures every entry and exit is logged, and the hallway is monitored by cameras that are invisible unless you know where to look.

I slide the keycard through the electronic lock and push open the door, revealing a space that could easily pass for a high-end hotel room if you don’t notice the reinforced walls or know the bulletproof windows don’t open. The room is decorated in warm neutrals with touches of gold.

I step aside so she can enter. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

She moves into the room cautiously, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The space is larger than most apartments, with a sitting area that includes a leather sofa and matching armchair, a king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, and an ornatebathroom. Fresh flowers sit on the side table, and there’s a basket of expensive toiletries waiting in the bathroom.

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