Page 4 of Trapped By the Bratva

Nothing had added up about the whole situation, but between recovering from that hit to the head, keeping up with college, and working as much as possible, as usual, I lacked the time to follow up.

It was weird that Becca had never reached out to me again, and it was times like now that I thought of the sweet mother and daughter. Becca was more like a sister to me than Melissa ever was. And little Emily was such a joy to babysit. I fantasized that I could be the “cool aunt” to an adorable baby like her and that I could have a compassionate sister like Becca to talk with.

Since that day, I'd had nothing but stress. Demands from my sister. More expectations at the understaffed hospital. I’d dropped out of school because my headaches had taken so long to subside.

My life was nothing but a series of hardships, and I wished from the bottom of my heart for that man to come back and take care of me again. I was so desperate foranyoneto care about me that I was clinging to him like an enigmatic dream guy, something from my imagination.

I didn’t get his name, and I doubted I’d ever see him again. If I were smart, I’d knock it off with wishing for a run-in with a hardened man like him. He seemed like a dangerous stranger, but no matter how much I dismissed him and what happened that day while babysitting, I couldn’t forget the recall of feeling so safe when he was near.

That sense of security was a luxury that I bet I’d never have again.

Slowly, I pulled my fingers out of my ears and waited to see if Melissa had given up. It was quiet out there in the hallway, but I knew better than to assume the coast was clear to go shower or find some crackers and applesauce for a tiny dinner in the kitchen. I’d rather starve and be stinky than face her.

I stood and walked to the door. My foot landed on a creaky floorboard, and Melissa went at it again, pounding her fists on the door and yelling all over again.

I groaned and dropped face down onto my bed, praying that someone like that mystery man could just appear again, like he had before, and give a shit about my well-being.

Keep dreaming, Hannah. Keep dreaming.

2

DMITRI

Iclenched my teeth as they carried me onto a clean bed. Like a limp, useless lump of weight, I lay there helpless while the nurses and techs hurried. As a team, they rushed to accommodate my size, switching me onto something more adapted to transportation.

“Sorry, sir,” one young man in scrubs said. He didn’t sound too apologetic, not really, but he’d noticed how hard I tried to keep my grimace in.

I grunted, not bothering to speak as they moved me onto the other gurney. What would words do? Nothing could be said.

You’re sorry that you’re stuck helping me?

You’re sorry that I was tortured, disfigured, and pushed close to death for almost a week?

It was bullshit. No amount of confessed sorrow would do a goddamn thing.

“Hey.” Maxim nodded at the team moving me as he entered the room. “Sorry I’m late.”

I rolled my eyes. “Enough with the fucking apologies.”

My youngest brother opened and closed his mouth, thinking twice about speaking up again, at least not in a conversation with me. “We’re ready to go, then?” He held the hand of the slender brunette who’d found me at the warehouse. Nadia was supposed to marry the oldPakhanof the Avilov Family, but somehow, along the way of Maxim retrieving her and bringing her back to her father, they’d had a change of plans.

She had yet to leave his side, always holding his hand, and that told me enough. Another sister-in-law to welcome into the family. As if her weird introduction hadn’t been telling enough. When she found me in that dark room, she told me she was Maxim’s fiancée.

While I was curious about how they’d met, how she’d come to find me, and why, that intrigue paled in comparison to the deep-set anger that remained at a low boil in my blood.

How dare those fucking Kastavas capture me. And how dare Erik Avilov make it his personal pastime to torture me without mercy.

Until I could pay them back in kind, this fury would reside in me.

“We’re ready to fly out?” Maxim asked the doctor in charge.

Nadia furrowed her brow at me. It wasn’t a wince, but she was clearly uneasy about making eye contact.

“What?” I snapped.

“Areyouready to fly out?” she asked.

I appreciated her consideration. It seemed that she had an intuition to make sure I was making choices of my own, andI surmised she’d been deprived of that right to be so quick to observe it when it happened to someone else.

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