Page 80 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
“Jennie!” Her voice is bright, a little too bright. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling Adrian’s oversized shirt tighter around me. “Hi, Zoe. Uh…hey. How are you?”
“I should be asking you that,” she says gently. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Violet and I were worried. We heard about the explosion.”
“I’m fine,” I say, instantly aware of how hollow and fake that sounds.
“Are you sure?” She presses. “I’ve been asking Lukin questions, but he’s been tight-lipped.”
“Adrian, too.” I roll my eyes. “Things are…complicated, he says.”
“Complicated is one word for it,” she mutters, and I can practically hear the side-eye through the phone.
I manage a weak laugh. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m safe.”
Zoe’s voice lowers a little. “How are you…holding up with Logan? I heard he was really hurt. By the time Kaz got to him, I mean. Will he be okay?”
I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks.
“What?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Logan was hurt?”
There’s silence on the other end.
“He was hurt?” I repeat, the words scraping my throat raw.
No one told me that. Adrian didn’t tell me that. He swore Logan was safe, swore he was protecting him. My heart lurches in pain. It physically aches, like something just snapped loose in my chest.
He lied to me.
I blink hard, the room suddenly spinning just slightly. He’s out there making promises to protect my brother—and hiding the truth from me?
The silence on the line stretches, and I know Zoe hears it. Feels it.
“You didn’t know,” she breathes. “Shit. Shit. Forget I said anything. I’m sure—I’m sure I didn’t hear that right.”
“It’s okay, Zoe.” I force the words out, though my throat feels thick.
She’s quiet for a second, then says quickly, “Uhm, I’ll call you back. It’s Sam—he’s crying.”
I don’t hear any crying.
But I nod anyway. “Sure. Go ahead.”
The call ends, and I just sit there, phone still in hand, trembling with anger and confusion.
And betrayal.
I don’t know how long I sit there processing it, but soon, the door creaks open. I don’t even look up at first. My hands are clenched into fists, my jaw locked tight. I know it’s him. I feel it.
Adrian steps into the room like nothing’s happened, shrugging out of his jacket, his expression calm—too calm for how I feel at the moment. He’s holding a gift bag, but I don’t register it.
He glances at me. “Hey.”
I lift my gaze slowly. “How’s Logan?”
He stops in his tracks.
There it is. The flicker in his eyes. The slight shift in his breathing. I see it.
