Page 88 of Bratva Prisoner
The sound of approaching footsteps makes us both tense, but it’s only Dmitri appearing in the doorway with his weapon drawn.
“Building’s secure,” he reports. “Three tangos down, no casualties on our side.”
“Good. We need to move fast,” Maksim replies, keeping one arm around me while he addresses his brother. “Alyssa has intel on a trafficking operation. Children are being held at a converted manufacturing facility on the east side.”
“How many?” Dmitry demands.
“He said a dozen,” I whisper. “Kids between eight and fourteen.”
“Fucking animals,” Dmitri spits. “I’ll coordinate with the others. We can hit the location within the hour.”
“Make it thirty minutes,” Maksim corrects. “Every second those children spend in captivity is too long.”
The next hour is filled with tactical planning. Maksim’s brothers converge on our location with enough firepower to level a city block, and I provide every detail I can remember about Troy’s operation.
“You did good, little sister,” Aleksei tells me as we prepare to move out. “Getting that intelligence took real courage.”
The praise from the eldest Barkov brother means more than he probably realizes. These men have accepted me as family, and now I’ve proven I can contribute something valuable to their world beyond just being someone who needs protection.
I sit beside Maksim in the back of an armored SUV on the ride to the holding facility, watching him check his weapons. The man who kissed me so gently two days ago has transformed into something lethal and focused, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Stay in the vehicle once we arrive,” he instructs without looking at me. “This is going to get messy.”
“I want to help,” I protest. “Those children—”
“Will be safest if you let us handle the extraction. Please, Alyssa. I can’t focus on the mission if I’m worried about your safety.”
When we arrive, Maksim and his brothers move as one unit, each taking assigned positions around the perimeter while I watch from the relative safety of the vehicle.
What follows is fifteen minutes of controlled mayhem. Gunfire sounds from multiple directions as the Barkov team systematically clears the facility. I count each shot, each shout, and each moment of silence that might indicate someone has been hurt.
When the shooting finally stops, the quiet feels almost oppressive. Minutes crawl by before Maksim’s voice crackles through the radio.
“All clear. Package secured.”
Package secured. That’s how he refers to a dozen traumatized children who’ve been freed from a nightmare I can barely comprehend. But even the clinical language can’t hide the emotion I hear beneath it, the fury that promises these crimes won’t go unpunished.
The children emerge from the building in a ragged line, most clutching blankets provided by the extraction team. They range in age from maybe seven to fifteen, and their faces are hollow with the kind of trauma that will take years to heal.
“It’s over,” Maksim says as he reaches the vehicle where I’m waiting. Blood stains his shirt, though I can’t tell if it’s his or someone else’s. “Troy’s entire network is finished.”
I throw myself into his arms without caring about the blood or the weapons he’s still carrying. His body against minefeels like coming home after the longest, most terrifying journey of my life.
“I love you,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m sorry it took almost losing you to figure that out, but I love you, Maksim.”
“I love you too,” he breathes as his arms wrap around me like he never wants to let go. “God, Alyssa, when I saw him on top of you—”
“But you got there in time. You saved me, and we saved them.” I pull back enough to look into his face, where I see exhaustion and relief warring in his blue eyes. “It’s really over.”
“It’s over,” he confirms, cupping my face in his hands. “And now we can finally start the rest of our lives.”
The kiss that follows tastes like promises and new beginnings, like the end of running and the start of something permanent. Around us, his brothers coordinate the cleanup operation while emergency responders tend to the rescued children. But for this moment, none of that matters.
All that matters is the man holding me like I’m the most precious thing in his world, and the knowledge that I’ve finally found where I belong.
Epilogue - Maksim
Planning the perfect proposal for a woman who once told me she’d rather jump off a cliff than trust another man with her heart requires a certain level of irony.
