Page 84 of Bratva Prisoner
No. That doesn’t make sense.
“Keep watching,” I instruct. “There’s more to this than what it looks like.”
“Are you sure? Because from here, it looks like she changed her mind about wanting to be rescued.”
I close my eyes and remember every story she told me about Troy’s manipulation tactics. How he made her feel crazy for having reasonable boundaries. How he twisted her compassion into compliance. How he used emotional warfare to maintain control.
Of course, she’s acting happy. It’s a survival mechanism. Keep him satisfied, keep him distracted, wait for an opportunity to escape or fight back. The performance is probably costing her everything she has.
“I’m moving to your location,” I tell Akim. “Maintain surveillance but don’t engage.”
“Copy that.”
By the time I reach Akim’s position, my jaw aches from clenching my teeth.
“Third floor, northeast corner,” he reports, handing me binoculars. “They’ve been up there for about an hour.”
I focus the lenses on the indicated window and feel my heart stop. There she is—my beautiful, brave, stubborn kitten—sitting across from the man who’s terrorized her for months.She’s smiling at something he said, nodding like she’s genuinely interested in his conversation.
But I know her well enough to see the truth beneath the performance. The way she holds her shoulders is too straight. The slight stiffness in her posture speaks to hypervigilance. The fact that she keeps her hands visible on the table between them instead of relaxing them in her lap.
She’s not happy. She’s terrified and playing the role of her life to stay alive.
“I’m going in,” I announce.
“Maksim, that’s not the plan—”
“The plan just changed.”
I study the building layout while Akim coordinates with our other teams. The structure is old but well-maintained, with multiple entry points and clear sightlines from the street. Getting inside won’t be the problem; getting to Alyssa without alerting Troy will be the challenge.
“Give me fifteen minutes to get into position,” I tell my brother. “If you don’t hear from me by then, bring everyone.”
“Copy.”
The service entrance proves unlocked, probably because Troy’s arrogance convinced him no one would find this location. I move through the building using skills learned from decades in this business to traverse the corridors without detection.
The sound of Alyssa’s laugh drifts through the walls, and each note cuts through me like broken glass. She shouldn’t have to perform happiness for a monster. She shouldn’t have to pretend affection for the man who pointed a gun at her chest.
I reach the third floor and position myself near the stairwell, waiting for the right moment to make contact. Through a crack in the door, I can hear their conversation—Troy pontificating about some business deal while Alyssa provides encouraging responses that sound genuine unless you know what to listen for.
The opportunity comes when Troy excuses himself to make a phone call. I wait until his footsteps fade down the hallway, then slip into the room where Alyssa sits alone at a small table.
She looks up as I enter, and the shock on her face is quickly replaced by something that looks like panic.
“Maksim,” she breathes, rising from her chair so fast it nearly topples over. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you,” I reply simply as I rush closer to assess her condition. No visible injuries, no obvious signs of abuse, but the hollowness in her eyes tells a different story.
“You can’t be here,” she insists, glancing toward the door where Troy disappeared. “If he finds you—”
“He won’t. My brothers have the building surrounded.”
“No, you don’t understand. He’ll kill you the moment he sees you.”
The concern in her voice, the genuine fear for my safety despite everything she’s enduring, reminds me exactly why I fell for this woman. Even in captivity, even while playing the most difficult role of her life, she’s more worried about protecting me than herself.
“Let me worry about Troy,” I tell her as I reach for her hand. “Right now, I need to get you out of here.”
