Page 93 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
It’s eating me alive.
The only message we’ve gotten was the video. Just that. Just the sight of her bruised and unconscious, tied to a chair like she was some sort of disposable bargaining chip. The memory of it claws at my chest like a beast that won’t settle.
Lukin’s been tearing the network apart on his end, squeezing every contact we have. Every single lead we uncover? It loops right back to us. It’s like chasing shadows through a hall of mirrors—every angle pointing inward. That’s because the bastard who did this was close enough to use all our resources, so he has nothing that could lead directly to him. No one outside the family circle could’ve pulled this off.
I clench my jaw so hard I hear something pop.
“She’s okay,” Kaz says finally. His voice is low. He says it like he wants to believe it himself. “They didn’t take her to kill her. They took her to draw you out.”
I don’t respond. Because I know he’s right.
They want me desperate. They want me reckless. They want me weak.
And I’ll give them none of it.
But I will find them—and I will end them.
As we pull up to the facility, Zalar is already waiting by the reinforced doors, flanked by two men. His face is tight, unreadable. The kind of look he only wears when things are serious.
I don’t ask any questions. I just follow him inside. Because today, someone is going to bleed.
The moment I step into the holding cell, the air changes. Damp. Sterile. Heavy with sweat and fear.
Alexei is slouched in the metal chair, wrists chained behind him, blood dried at the corner of his mouth. He looks up as I enter. The second our eyes meet, he straightens like he remembers who the fuck I am.
He should.
I trained him.
I protected him.
I handpicked him for my inner guard.
And he gave her up.
Kaz lingers behind me, arms folded, jaw ticking. Zalar’s in the far corner, silent, unreadable. I don’t say a word as I walk to the table and sit down directly across from Alexei. The guards shut the door behind us with a clang.
He tries to speak first.
“Boss, I didn’t—”
I slam my fist onto the table, and the sound is thunderous. His voice cuts off.
“No,” I say, quiet. That dangerous, calm sort of quiet I know scares the shit out of men like him. “You don’t talk. Not unless I tell you to.”
He nods quickly, swallowing hard.
I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. My voice lowers, but my tone stays sharp.
“You were supposed to die before they touched her. You swore your loyalty to me, Alexei. You took an oath. And you let her—” My jaw clenches. “You let Jennie get taken.”
His eyes flinch at her name. I watch that guilt flicker behind his panic.
“I didn’t know. They paid me off just to move a camera for a few minutes. I didn’t know it was her they were after. I swear, Boss. I swear on my life—”
“You already gave that up the second you said yes.” My voice is ice.
I stand slowly and walk around the table. He’s trembling now. He’s still chained to the chair. Breathing heavy. Face pale. Sweat sliding down his temple. His eyes flick to my hands when I pull on a pair of leather gloves.
