Page 1 of The Bratva's Captive

1

SLOANE

Every day was the same. No matter what, nothing ever changed in this miserable existence that I was supposed to call alife.

I’d wake up exhausted, get ready for work, and head into Stanley’s to strip and dance all night just to stagger back to this tiny shit hole of an apartment so I could get up the next day and do it all over again.

And again.

There was no change to this constant catch-up game of paying off debt, and I saw no hope that I’d ever win at it.

How depressing. Working without any end in sight. Forever.

I had zero enthusiasm to hurry out the door and get to the club so I’d have enough time for makeup and getting ready. And it was evident, how robotic I felt in rushing to grab my bag and get out the door of my apartment.

Everythingwas exactly the same, including my lack of punctuality. I had the same routine, the same route back andforth from Stanley's, and still, I would be late. It didn’t matter how prepared I tried to be so I wouldn’t be so stressed to get to work on time. I wasalwaysbehind because of the endless sleep deprivation I battled.

Outside my door, I shoved it shut to lock it. Like usual, it didn’t click closed, so I had to ram my hip against the surface to force it to fit in the junky frame that I doubted my landlords would ever care to fix.

“What the—” I paused after banging my body against the panel. Flapping up from the force of air that moved with my impatient push, a piece of light-yellow paper snagged my attention. It had been taped to the door, and the familiar header of the apartment complex was overly bold in its contrast with the pale hue.

No longer invested in the effort to properly close and lock my door, I tugged on the bottom of the notice and skimmed it quickly.

What the actual hell?

Anger built swiftly at what the message indicated. I’d reread it later, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what this brief note said. Rereading it wouldn’t change the fact that the lazy, cheap, money-hungry landlords wanted to up the rent. Again!

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growled to myself, narrowing my eyes as I zoned out and stared at the message taped to my door this morning when I’d been sleeping—or trying to.

Next to me, my neighbor opened her door. With a baby on her hip and a bag of trash in her hand, she wasn’t able to stop her toddler from rushing out the open door. Banging a spoon on a pot, he carried his typical loudness from her apartment to the hallway. Each clang of metal on metal served to worsenmy headache, one I didn’t want at all on my way into the club. Stanley’s blared music like any other strip club would, and I could usually tune it out. But this kid…

I gritted my teeth as I watched him dart by. In a diaper and a dirty T-shirt, he marched with that pot and spoon held overhead, drumming and shrieking to some kind of music he had in his mind.

That was one half of the reason I couldn’t sleep. Between his loud toddler days of tantrums or playing or screaming or drumming and his younger brother’s colicky crying, I had no peace to sleep. Worse was his mother’s shouting at her boyfriend. And then next door in the other direction, that cacophony competed withthatneighbor’s music that he turned up first thing in the morning as he worked out in his apartment.

“Sorry,” the mother said, not really meaning it. Maybe she had good intentions and she was genuinely apologetic about her sons’ making such a ruckus, but she was too beat down and exhausted from life to make any amends. “They’re being a little loud today.”

I huffed before I could stop myself. I wasn’t laughing at her, and it wasn’t fair of me to react with sarcasm, but she was joking, right? Her baby and toddler were loudeveryday. Since the walls were so thin and I heard it all, I was well aware that she neglected them, refusing to help them and insisting that they learn to cry it all out and figure it out.

I had no clue what a baby was supposed to figure out on his own, much less a toddler, but I knew better than to impart unsolicited advice for another woman.

The mother narrowed her eyes. “I said sorry,” she snapped, interpreting my huff as a reason to fight. “You’ve got no idea how hard it is to be a single mother. To be a mother at all.”

“You got me there.” I used to daydream about having a family, but I had enough logic not to wind up like that, single and destitute. Having to pay back outrageous debt from when my ex-boyfriend, Derick, ran off with my credit cards kept me from getting back on my feet enough to even consider starting a family.

But that didn’t mean I would judge a mother for becoming one at all. I wished I had a baby and toddler like her, but with the ability to care for them properly. I wanted a child of my own to enjoy and teach and watch them grow up, but not when I wouldn’t be able to provide for them.

Glancing at the baby she held, I refrained from sighing and trying to explain I didn’t hate her or her kids for being the reason I was so chronically sleep-deprived. Picking a fight with my neighbor wasn’t something I had time for, either.

She raked her tired gaze up and down me, then smirked. “You got no damn idea how hard my life is.”

Oh, and mine isn’t?We all had our problems. But I knew better than to remind her of that.

“You just take off and dance all night.” She hoisted her baby up higher and glanced at the toddler drumming and marching, now screaming too. “You got no idea what it’s like to be stuck at home with kids and no decent man to help at all. You got no damn idea, you lucky bitch.” Shaking her head, she grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him to turn in the direction she wanted himto go. After casting me one more rude look, she yanked her trash bag off the floor and headed to take it outside.

She was right. I didn’t have an idea what it was like to raise children, but that was because I had gone out of my way to avoid letting that happen yet. Derick wasn’t the sort of man to have a child with. He wasn’t even the sort of man to keep in my life as a boyfriend. Cheating, lying, manipulative, he was a lousy excuse for a man. Worst of all, he was too damn controlling.

Walking outside to begin the journey to the club, I held the strap of my bag tighter and shoved the rent increase notice into it. I didn’t want to think about having to pay more to the landlords who didn’t give a damn about the building that was crumbling down. But with Derick on my mind, I didn’t want to think about how much debt I was drowning in from his theft.

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