Page 82 of The Bratva's Captive

“What about Grandmother?” Nik asked as I led the way toward where the men said the intruder lay dead.

I shook my head. “She can wait.” That was how much I knew deep down that Sloane would keep her company until I could come to them. She was almost like a partner like that, but I nipped the beginning thought of reliance and trust toward her.

“Miss Black was with her,” a soldier said, overhearing us as he flanked us on the way toward the killed intruder.

“Sloane?” Nik furrowed his brow, looking at me for a moment.

I nodded, too angry and alarmed by what had happened tonight to give him any encouragement to talk about her. We had bigger issues on hand.

“Huh.” Nik smirked as he continued striding down the hall with me. “I’m not surprised.”

“That someone snuck in to kill Father?” I growled.

“No. That Sloane would stick with her. She’s not afraid to help or show her loyalty to the family,” he replied.

I wasn’t ready to agree with that yet. Sloane wasn’t afraid. She’d had too hard of a life to scare easily.

But the matter of her loyalty to the family?

I wasn’t sure when I’d believe with all my heart that she was fully truthful and loyal to me. How could she be when she put so much effort into seducing me tonight?

33

SLOANE

Blood oozed from the small gash on Anastasia’s forehead, but she didn’t do more than wince slightly as she got to her feet. I kept my hand on her cut to stem the bleeding, and with my other hand, I helped her stand and get out of the way as men rushed down the hallway. They ran in the direction where Maxim had taken off.

Please, please be okay.

I couldn’t bear the idea of his being wounded. I didn’t wish him ill, not after all he’d done for me and how much he’d made me care for him. I was his captive, but he was something more than just my captor at this point. I’d been prepared to tell him that before that stupid alarm went off.

“You can release me,” Anastasia said. Her tone was clipped and curt, as usual. I bet she’d talk like this to whoever she was near no matter who they were. Being hurt was never fun, and it’d put anyone in a shitty disposition.

But that was also how she treatedme. That lack of warmth was only more evident as I ushered her toward another roomthat was probably a former library with all the bookshelves that hosted décor instead.

“If I let go, it’ll bleed faster,” I replied calmly.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she shot back.

“And I’m not offering one. It's a fact that head wounds bleed like crazy.”

She glowered at me as I helped her into a chair, as though she hated the possibility that I could be right.

She wasn’t in any mood to ease up on the separation between us. She was in charge, as a member of this family, and I was the outsider. She had clout and mattered, and I was inferior as a “guest”.

Because I didn’t have to spend much time with her—not directly—I’d fallen into the habit of ignoring her snippy attitude with me. This was different. While I didn’t enjoy putting up with her prejudice against me and her cruel tone, I was made of tougher stuff than most others.

I could handle her.

One cranky old woman wouldn’t reduce me to tears or get under my skin.

When more men ran past, I tried to listen for what was going on out there. If someone had broken in to cause trouble, they’d be outnumbered. All those Ivanov men were armed and trained, and I knew we’d be safe with them all on the alert now.

But I only cared about Maxim returning to me, safe and sound.

“Release me,” Anastasia repeated.

“I’m not holding you in place,” I replied matter-of-factly. “I’m compressing the wound. As soon as someone else you’d approve of shows up, I’ll let them take over.”

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