Page 54 of Bound By the Bratva

"When there's news? When there's news!" I screech the words out, swinging at the man's chest, pummeling him with my fists. "My son has been kidnapped. I'm not going to lie in bed waiting for updates like some helpless?—"

"Ma'am." The second guard's voice is gruff as he grips me by the waist and pulls me back from my fear-induced rage tantrum. "Mr. Vetrov took a full tactical team. He left armed and he hasn't checked in since. Right now, the best thing you can do is recover." I squirm and kick, fighting against his grip as the words settle in my chest like a stone.

Of course he's armed. This is Rolan Vetrov, and someone took his son. They might as well have signed their own death warrants.

The guards escort me back to the infirmary room with the kind of polite insistence that makes it clear I don't have a choice. I sink back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, listening to the steady beep of medical equipment and trying not to think about what Nikolai might be going through right now.

Is he scared? Is he calling for me? Does he understand what's happening, or does he think this is some kind of game?

The questions circle in my mind like vultures, each one more unbearable than the last.

Hours crawl by. The light outside the small window shifts from pale morning to harsh afternoon to the golden glow of approaching sunset. I drift in and out of sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see Nikolai's face, hear his voice calling for me.

Tears well up and drain from my eyes until I'm drowning in them, back in the car after the race when my sweet boy cheered about his Dancing Queen being so brave. And now I feel like a shell of a woman, just a husk of what my son deserves from me. I can't find him. I couldn't even hold on to him. I was supposed to be taking him to freedom, not hand delivering him to the fucking enemy whom I'm powerless against.

A knock on the door jolts me awake and fear bristles my entire body. One of the guards steps inside, his expression carefully neutral, but the weapon in his hand and the way he glowers at me aren't comforting.

"Rolan?" I ask, rolling over to see if they have news of his return.

"Ma'am, there's someone at the gate requesting to see you. Says it's urgent."

My heart leaps. "Rolan?"

"No ma'am. It's… a Pyotr Morozov. Says he's your father."

The hope that had flared in my chest dies instantly, replaced by something cold and bitter.Batya. Of course it'sBatya, showing up now when everything has already gone to hell.

I follow the guard through corridors I've never seen before, past rooms filled with medical equipment and security monitors. We move so slowly, I'm sure he's annoyed with me, but the bruising to my stomach and ribs makes it almost impossible to move. The estate feels different in daylight—less like a fortress and more like a hospital, all clean lines and sterile surfaces.

We emerge through a side door into the courtyard where I can see the main gate in the distance. Even from here, I canmake out a familiar figure pacing behind the iron bars like a caged animal.

Batyalooks smaller than I remember, his shoulders hunched beneath a wrinkled jacket. His hair has gone completely gray since I saw him last, and his face is pale and wild-eyed. When he spots me approaching, he grabs the gate with both hands and shakes it.

"Anya! Anya, we need to talk. Right now."

The guards unlock the gate just long enough to let him through, then lock it again behind him.Batyarushes toward me and grabs my arms, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"Batya, you're hurting me."

"Listen to me." His voice is urgent, breathless. "I made a mistake. A terrible mistake."

I try to pull away from his grip, but he holds on tighter. "What are you talking about?"

"The Zharovs. The people who took Nikolai." His eyes are wide with something that looks like terror. "They're not going to use him as leverage like I thought. They're not going to trade him for money or territory or anything else."

The world seems to tilt around me. "What do you mean?"

"They're going to kill him, Anya." The words fall from his lips like stones. "And when they're done with the boy, they're going to kill me too. That was always the plan."

For a moment, I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process what he's telling me.

"You knew?" The words come out as a whisper. "You knew they were going to take him?"

"I didn't know it would go this far!" He's crying now, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. "I thought… I thought they just wanted information. Leverage against Rolan. I thoughtthe debt could be covered, that we could work something out, that?—"

I shove him back with enough force to send him stumbling. "You sold us out. You sold out your own grandson."

"I was trying to fix things! I was trying to make it right!"

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