Page 2 of Kidnapped & Bred By The BRATVA
And yet he keeps walking.
Four other men stand too, chairs scraping back against the old stone floor. Brothers, I realize dimly, cut from the same cloth. They follow him without hesitation, forming a shield, their dark suits and cold eyes daring anyone to intervene.
No one does.
The groom doesn’t move. Relief flickers across his face as he steps back from the altar, as if he’s been saved from a burden he never wanted.
My father’s fury crackles in the air, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. The man carrying me doesn’t slow. He doesn’t falter. He owns every step he takes, and the church, the guests, the chaos… it all belongs to him now.
The heavy doors crash open as if summoned by his will alone. Outside, sunlight blinds me, and then I’m jostled as he moves down the steps, each stride decisive, commanding. Somewhere nearby, an engine roars to life.
“Put her down!” My father’s voice follows, raw with desperation. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know who she is?”
The man doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
Because in the way his body claims me, in the way his grip tightens every time I shift, I know exactly what I am to him.
His.
The car door swings open, and I’m thrust inside, sprawling across dark leather seats that smell of new polish and danger. Before I can gather myself, he’s beside me, filling the space with his presence, his thigh pressing against mine. The door slams shut, muffling the shouts from outside.
The brothers pile in, their movements efficient, practiced. The engine growls, the car lurches forward, and just like that, the church, the wedding, my father, they all fall away.
I sit there, breathless, trembling, my hands fisting in the folds of my gown.
Across the seat, he turns his head, and once again, his gaze locks with mine.
Not a stranger. Not anymore.
A captor. A savior. A man who decided, in front of everyone, that I belong to him.
My pulse pounds, wild and unsteady, but I don’t look away. I can’t. His scar catches the light, a wicked slash that only makes him more dangerous, more compelling.
That’s when I know for a fact, I’m no longer a pawn in someone else’s game.
I’ve been seen.
Claimed.
Kidnapped.
Roman
The music changes and I rise to my feet as the doors to the old chapel swing open.
The moment I see her, I know she’s mine.
It’s not a thought. Not an idea I wrestle with, weigh, or question. It’s a fact. As undeniable as the blood in my veins, as certain as the beat of my heart.
She walks toward me, veiled in white, satin clinging to her soft body, eyes wide with dread. She doesn’t belong to the man waiting for her at the altar, my pathetic cousin who would rather choke on glass than take a wife and give up his playboy ways. She belongs to me. She always has, even if I didn’t know her name until this second.
Olivia.
My cousin’s voice doesn’t hide his disgust. “Look at the size of her. Jesus Christ, they never told me she was a hippo.”
I want to put a bullet in his head.
