Page 47 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
“It’s one floor up. The worst you could do is twist an ankle.”
“It’s the fact that I’d betryingthat counts. You know, the effort,” I argue.
“You’re so weird. Sometimes I wonder if we’re really related,” she grins.
“Hey, that’s rude,” I laugh, following her downstairs. “Oh, wait, I need to pee. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
***
Walking through the hallway, I think about how grateful I am that Stef is around. She saves me from myself. Makes me laugh. Make light of difficult things. And she also thinks Diomid is super-hot. Imagine if I could tell her everything that really happened. I wouldn’t dare, though. I can’t pull her into my drama. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to keep that secret.
As I walk past my brother’s office, I hear a word that makes my entire body go rigid with fear and anxiety.
Auction.
“Yes, they seem to think there’s another auction being arranged for tomorrow night. Can you confirm it?”
My feet are glued to the ground, and I have to reach out and hold onto the wall to stop myself from collapsing as my head spins. The fear, the terror I felt when they had me, it all comes flooding back as though I was right back there.
They’re hosting another auction.
“Ok, so it is tomorrow night. No, she’s not leaving the house, but let’s keep our ears to the ground. Stay in touch. Thanks, man.”
Jaroslav hangs up, ending the call, and I fight the panic attack threatening to drown me.
Somehow, I manage to run back to my room and quietly close the door. Kneeling on my bedroom floor with my head against the carpet, I take slow, desperate breaths.
All of those women. Those innocent girls are going through what I went through. They’ll be sold to disgusting men. Tortured. Used. Hurt. I can’t bear the thought of it. I can’t ignore it.
It takes me a while to stop the wild, heavy beat of my heart and slow my body down enough to stand up.
Reaching for my phone, my hands are shaking as I type out a message to Diomid. We haven’t spoken since the day he dropped me off at home. But right now, I need his help. And he’s literally the only person I can ask to do this for me.
Me: Diomid, it’s me, Angelika. I know I’m asking a lot, but I need your help. I just found out that there is another auction tomorrow night. Please, I’m begging you, help me stop it. I don’t know how. But I can’t do it alone. I really need you. My brothers will kill me if they find out I’m even thinking about this, but the thought of those innocent women being sold… I can still see the faces of those men, the ones who were bidding. I’ve never been so desperate to stop something in my life, and I’m begging you. Help me stop this.
I hit ‘send’ and clench my hand into a fist to try and stop it from shaking. But it won’t.
“Hey, did you change your mind?” Stef asks, peeking around my bedroom door.
“Oh, no, I was just checking something,” I answer quickly, hoping she doesn’t notice how weird my voice sounds.
“Hurry up, Zakhar smelt the cheese and now he’s in the kitchen. If you don’t come soon, he’s going to eat it all, you know how he gets.”
I laugh, standing up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and plastering a smile onto my face.
“You sure you’re ok? You look a little pale.” Stef walks toward me, her brows knotted.
I wave my hand in dismissal. “I’m not pale. If anything, I’m more tanned than you, after my island escape. You’re just jealous,” I joke, pushing her toward the door.
She scoffs, snapping back, as cheeky as ever.
***
Downstairs, the rich aroma of melting cheese assaults me. My stomach churns. I’m too anxious to eat, but I need to. I can’t let them know I’m struggling.
Zakhar and Evengil are both there, making very quick work of the grilled cheese sandwiches Stef has already made. “You guys are savages. I have to make a whole new lot now,” she complains, slapping at Zakhar with the wooden spatula she’s been using to flip them in the pan.
“I’ll have another one, seeing as you’re making,” Zakhar says.
