Page 7 of Forced Bratva Hostage

I pop my AirPods in and turn the music up while I curl my hair and do my makeup. There is a faint blue mark across my cheekbone from Van’s ring. With an angry scowl, I blot concealer over it and refuse to let it upset me any more than it already has. There’s nothing I can do about it now. And I want to enjoy tonight.

Every now and then, I take one of the AirPods out and listen for a few seconds, just making sure everything is still okay, but the house is quiet.

It’s half past twelve when I slip the gorgeous dress onto my body and wiggle my hips to straighten it. In the mirror, I turn to the left and the right, admiring how amazing it looks on me.

The low light accentuates the dark, iridescent glimmer. In the club, it’s going to look ten times more amazing when the colorful lights catch against it.

Grabbing my clutch and my heels, which I will only put on when I’m far away from the estate, I glance around my room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

A low tap—just one, brief sound—at my window makes me turn towards it and squint into the darkness outside. Tonight is usually dark. It’s strange. It’s like someone stole the moon from the sky or painted a thick, dark cloud right over it.

For a second, I think I see movement, but not outside; it looks like—what the fuck?

A dark figure springs towards me, hidden in the shadows of my thick bedroom curtains. He’s tall, solid and dressed head to toe in black. And he’s so fast that I barely open my mouth to scream before he’s clamped his hand over it, blocking out any sound.

I kick at his shins and swing my hands, using my heels like a weapon, aiming for his head. He swipes me off my feet, and I land hard onto the floor, face first against the soft carpet with the air knocked entirely out of my lungs.

I hear tape as he pulls a strip of it using his free hand and his teeth.

Then it’s over my mouth, and around my wrists and around my ankles. He slides a blindfold over my eyes.

Then the beast of a man lifts me off the floor as though I weigh nothing. He flings me over his shoulder.

My heart is racing. I hear him opening my window. He can’t be trying to get out this way—not with me in his arms. He’s going to kill us both. I don’t dare move. Not now. I don’t want to die like this.

But somehow, he doesn’t kill us. There is a soft thud when his feet hit the grass beneath my window. Then he’s jogging, and his shoulder is digging into my ribs. Pain shoots through me with each movement and I try to shift. I start fighting again.I twist and turn and thrash my body around like a fish out of water.

He grabs my legs and pins them to his chest. His strength is shocking—terrifying, actually. But one of the guards has to hear me. They have to see something. How the hell can someone walk right into the estate and walk right out again with a whole entire human being over their shoulder and not be seen?

It’s impossible.

I start screaming, muffled and soundless against the gag.

He growls at me to stay still and shut up.

I hear a car door opening.

He throws me inside.

What the fuck. We’re already out of the estate. How is this possible?

I start kicking at anything near me. The back of the seat, the car door—anything and everything.

The engine starts and the car pulls out onto the road.

Chapter 3 - Andrei

“We are on our way to you,” I say into the phone pressed against my ear as I drive away from the Enzo estate.

Tatiana is still kicking and going wild in the back of the car. I can’t fucking believe how much fight that girl has in her. I did not expect her to be as feisty as that.

On the other side, the priest’s voice comes through, strained at the edges. “No, sorry—I had an emergency and I had to leave. We need to reschedule.”

“What? No. You can’t. I need this done tonight. That was the deal,” I say, my stomach knotting tightly. The marriage documents need to be signed tonight. I need her tied to me immediately to stop anyone from being able to interfere. Marriage, in the bratva world, is one of the strongest bonds two people can share.

If she’s not married to me tonight—right now—I can’t take her home to the mansion I’ve prepared. The risk would be too high.

“I’m really sorry, Andrei. It wasn’t in my control. We need to reschedule. I hope you’ll understand.”

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