Page 83 of The Bratva's Captive

“I won’t ever approve of you,” she replied with too much snark.

“Should I be shocked?” I quipped.

She stared up at me, her lips pressed in a thin line.

“You’ve made it clear that you don’t approve of my being here,” I said, trying hard not to sound flippant. “Yet, I’m still here.”

And will be until your grandson changes his mind.It was interesting that Maxim had power even over her. At first, when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t a fan of my living in the building, I worried that she’d convince Maxim to get rid of me. But he hadn’t, and per what he said about never letting me go, it didn’t seem like anyone would be able to make him change his mind.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned coolly as I lifted my hand partly to see if the bleeding was slowing at all. It wasn’t.

“Did you black out when you were hit?” I asked instead of acknowledging what she’d said. I knew I wasn’t welcome. She didn’t need to rub in that fact. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d been invited to be here. Maxim kidnapped me and forced me to live here with him in this strange “relationship” that he wanted with me.

“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped.

“Yes. I’m aware that I shouldn’t get comfortable here. Believe me, the possibility of overstaying my welcome is on my mind.” I raised my brows at her. “It’s on my minda lot.”

“You’re not family,” she added regally. “You’re here as a whore for him to distract himself with.”

I didn’t react, clamping my lips shut as I checked the rate of her blood loss again. She hadn’t answered me about blacking out, but I doubted she had been unconscious at all. This was how she always was. Cool and stern. True to her nature—as far as I could tell.

“You won’t last here,” she advised. “Maxim can have his fun as he sees fit but?—”

A gunshot went off, and I stiffened at the loud sound. I didn’t flinch, but it was instinct to lock up. I held my breath. I didn’t apply any additional pressure to her cut.

Meeting her gaze, I saw how she’d gone still as well.

We were both tense with the lack of any other gunshots after that one.

As I waited for a clue to come to us in this small side room, I embraced the adrenaline rush of debating whether I should freeze here and hide. Run and get further away from danger. Or prepare to fight back in the name of self-defense.

I was too used to being high-strung with the need to survive. But with Anastasia wounded, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of seeing myself to safety. I’d need to watch out for this unloving and cranky old woman, too.

Men slowed to a jog outside the doorway, and a couple turned to join us. Seeing more of the suited Ivanov men calmed me. I wouldn’t have to rely ononlymyself to fight back, if the need arose. I wasn’t alone. Backup was available.

But before I could relax, I tried to keep my breath and voice steady as I faced them. “Is Maxim…?”

Please, no.

I couldn’t bear the thought of his being shot or wounded at all. He was too strong, too formidable, and too much of a force of power to be gone or hurt.

At the idea of his hurting,Ihurt, too.

The guard shook his head. “He is fine.”

“The intruder is down,” his partner said, sounding like he was reporting to Anastasia and oblivious to my concerns that the first man noticed on my face. I was decent at masking my emotions, but that fear of Maxim being killed or hurt overrode my efforts to look cool and calm.

I let out a long breath and focused back on Anastasia. Finding her narrowing her eyes and watching me closely, I worried about what she could be thinking.

If she noticed my reaction to the gunshot like that, was she assuming I was scared for her grandson? For myself? I wouldn’t put it past her to ridicule me as not being part of her family and this world because I was too timid and easily scared by a single gunshot.

I’d had a hard life, but notthathard. Seeing Maxim kill Lenny was my first experience of such morbid violence. I had adjusted quickly, though. I was coming to terms with it all.

“You can act and look as strong and fearless as you please,” Anastasia said as I stepped back to let the soldier take over. He eased up close with a bandage to handle the compression of herwound. “But make no mistake, Miss Black. You will never have a place here with my family.”

I held my head up, refusing to acknowledge her cutting words or nasty tone.

“Are you wounded?” the other soldier asked me.

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