Page 15 of Captured By the Masked BRATVA
Liam leans closer, his voice a whisper meant only for me. “You’ve changed, Artem. Whatever you came here for tonight, it isn’t blood.”
He’s right. I came here to end something, and instead I’m standing in the middle of it, watching her, wanting her, planning a future that has no place in this room.
“Maybe I’ve finally found something worth more than vengeance,” I say quietly.
Liam studies me for a long moment, then gives a small nod. “Careful, old friend. Men like us don’t get to keep the things we want.”
He disappears back into the crowd, leaving me with his warning and the weight of what’s coming.
On stage, the next item is announced. The crowd murmurs. Someone laughs. And beside me, Elena takes a slow breath, steadying herself. For the first time, I wonder if the real dangerof the masquerade isn’t the secrets it sells, but the truth it forces into the light.
The auction ends the way they always do, with too many smiles and not enough truth. The final contract is signed in a haze of toasts and applause, and then the lights change.
The stage that hosted power plays and whispered numbers now glows under a darker, purple light. The music slows, heavier, the kind that drags heat through the air. The crowd changes with it; laughter turns low and intimate, movements closer, masks slipping in more ways than one.
It’s the part of the night they callthe descent. The polite leave early. The rest stay to prove they never were polite to begin with.
Elena’s hand tightens in mine as the first couple steps onto the stage in a blur of silk, skin, and spectacle. The crowd watches like it’s theatre, but I know the difference. This isn’t performance. It’s power. Ownership. The kind of indulgence that buys silence for the rest of the year.
She goes very still beside me. Her breath catches once, quiet but sharp enough that I feel it.
“You don’t have to watch,” I murmur, leaning down.
She doesn’t listen. Her gaze stays fixed on the stage, her expression unreadable.
The woman’s dress slides from her body in one liquid move, revealing she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Another man joins the stage.
“What is this?” she asks from beside me, unable to take her eyes from the stage.
“It’s whatever they want it to be. It’s all consensual.” I point to the dark haired woman on the stage. “She is married, but none of the men up there are her husband. At least not yet.”
Elena turns to face me her mouth parted in surprise.
“No,” I say, pre-empting the question. “I’m never sharing you, and I’d never expect you to do anything you didn’t want to.”
Another couple join the stage, the woman unzipping her own dress as she approaches the group. Wearing nothing but lingerie and her mask, she begins to kiss the naked woman passionately, fondling her breasts and grinding against her thigh. The crowd murmurs their approval.
The men undress while they circle the women like sharks. Another woman climbs the stairs, her red dress glittering darkly. She drops to her knees in front of a now naked man I recognise to be a senator and begins sucking his cock.
I know how this will end. More people. More bargains. More sex. It will bleed from the stage and infect everyone in the room. Those who had no intention of joining, won’t be able to resist.
“Come on,” I tell her, but she doesn’t move.
She shakes her head. “No. I need to find my father first.”
“Elena—”
“I have to tell him,” she interrupts, eyes shining through the mask. “I have to tell him that I belong to you now.”
The words hit harder than any weapon I’ve ever held. She doesn’t say it like surrender. She says it like a choice.
Every instinct in me screams to protect her, to drag her out before the room devours her, but I can see it, this is the moment she claims her voice back. The girl who came here hiding behind music and grief is gone. What’s left is a woman standing in the middle of the fire, daring it to touch her.
I reach out, tilt her chin up so she can’t look away. “You’re sure?”
She nods once, steady. “Completely.”
“Then I’ll stand beside you.”
