Page 53 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
He raised his head again, a glint of shock and suspicion flickering in his gaze.
I drew a deep breath, hesitating before him, my eyes searching his depths for answers to the questions I was yet to ask. “How are you?”
His expression softened by a whisper and then hardened again in less than a second. Maybe my question and the concern in my tone had shifted something in him. Maybe he never expected me to ask him that.
He bit down on the inside of his mouth. “What am I supposed to say?Fine?” He scoffed, walking round to the other side of his desk.
“That would be a default reply,” I said, “but I’m genuinely asking how you are.”
He chuckled lightly. “That’s a first. So, what, you suddenly care about my feelings?” The sarcasm in his tone couldn’t be any more obvious.
“Val, I’m trying here,” I said, my voice low but defensive.
He paused, brows yanked up in disbelief, his gaze unwavering. “Ironic, isn’t it? You want me to see that you’re trying when you never saw me doing it.”
Harsh, but true.
“Can we not fight?” I said softly, pleading with my eyes. “I just wanna know what’s going on—I wanna know how you’re holding up.”
He wiped a palm over his face, fingers absently drumming on the table. Val hesitated, as if thinking for a while. He met my gaze again and said, “Sit down.”
My heart skipped a beat, already afraid of what he would say to me. Was I strong enough to handle this conversation—whatever it might be?
I sat in the visitor’s chair, hands on my lap as I watched him sink into his leather armchair on the other side of the desk.
“I’m a traitor now,” he blurted out, going straight to the point.
“What?” My heart stopped for a moment, eyebrows rising in shock.
“At least that’s what the Bratva’s labeled me.”
My brain went blank immediately, and I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable by the news. “Wait a minute. I’m confused. Is it because of Luka? Because last time I checked, he was the traitor, not you.” The words tumbled out of my mouth in a frantic rush.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Well…” I gestured with my hands, “uncomplicate it. Make it make sense to me.”
He looked at me in silence, as if saying,Calm the fuck down.
I exhaled softly and braced myself for his explanation.
“The council of elders that attempted to decide your fate has decided mine,” he said.
Those mean-faced old bastards! My hatred for them just doubled right now.
“Elder Akim wanted you dead or sold off to the highest bidder. He claimed you were trouble and that your presence around me painted a bad picture of our organization.”
My fingers clutched the fabric of my baggy jeans, my jaw tightening at his words. What the hell did the so-called Akim mean by that? I was the victim in this situation, but inhisbook, I was the troublemaker?
Val continued, “Akim wanted me to get rid of you because he had another woman in mind for me to marry.” He paused, letting the words sink in first. “And when I refused to play his game—when I decided to take you as my wife—he was pissed.”
“But that’s not fair. You’re a grown man, and you should make your own choices,” I said.
“Akim’s marriage proposal was supposed to build an alliance between the Bratva and another organization,” he explained, his voice still as calm as always. “I’m labeled a traitor because I put myself before the Bratva, and the Bratva always comes first.”
“Bullshit.” I leaned in, hands on the table, as I looked into his eyes. “You weren’t created to do the Bratva’s bidding for the rest of your life. You were created to be in control…not to be controlled.”
His brows drew together as though he saw the sense in what I just said.
