Page 43 of Bratva Prince
I loathed her. I fucking loathed her to the core. But god, did I want her. Regardless of my disgust, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her, as if we were connected on a deeper level.
Someone get the scissors because I’m about to cut this connection.
She wouldn’t have this control over my emotions any longer.
21
Willow
Nearly two weeks had passed since Ivan and I had our big fight. At least, I think it was two weeks. It was hard to distinguish time when there were no clocks or phones to check the date.
I had no idea what happened to my phone. Maybe it flew out during the crash? Hell, for all I knew, it could be somewhere on this island or in the middle of the Adriatic Sea.
What I did know was that not having my phone was more of a burden than I thought it would be. Set aside the obvious reasons, such as calling for help or keeping track of the days, but not checking my social media or joining Viktor on a video call was driving me crazy. And I won’t even think about how much I missed playing my farm simulator game. It might sound stupid, but I worked hard on those crops and by the time I could play again—assuming I’d ever be able to—my crops would be dead.
Maybe I should keep focused on feeding myself in real life and not some juvenile game, but it was the little pleasures that I looked forward to each day.
Like my iced macchiato on the way to school, or the cheeseburger I’d order when I didn’t feel like cooking dinner. Such little things are taken for granted—things we don’t even notice in our day-to-day lives. But when they’re gone, they leave a gaping hole in their absence.
What broke my heart was the lack of concern I’d had for being with others. Sure, I missed my mother and Viktor, but aside from them, I couldn’t trust anyone else. Not since Daria slept with Rolan. Not since my father planned an arranged marriage like we’re living in the Elizabethan Era.
And not since Ivan betrayed my trust.
Though we couldn’t stand each other, we had a symbiotic relationship for survival. Once we ran out of food, he took to hunting and fishing, being better at it than I was. I hated to admit it, but he was actually quite skilled in survival scenarios, and made a sturdy shelter. He always caught fish, even with his homemade spear he’d carved from a tree limb, and he always had the fire started before dark every night.
In return, I could climb trees to reach the fruits his massive fists couldn’t shake down from the trees. Once he showed me what to look for, I helped forage for berries and wild vegetables.
Like I said, a symbiotic relationship—we depended on one another to make our survival run smoothly. Even if we weren’t the least bit fond of each other.
No, that was a lie. I could still feel this magnetic attraction to him, as if he were begging me to come closer while pushing me away. Always the battle of push and pull with that guy.
He still didn’t believe I had nothing to do with Dominik or my father’s plans to steal his guns or whatever. No matter how much I insisted it wasn’t true, that didn’t stop him from reminding me about my evil seductress ways of tempting him and using my prowess to draw him in, only to stab him in the back.
Ironic, considering he was the one that screwed me over.
Did I believe that he was only acting out because he thought I was the one that started it? Despite the immaturity of it all, I did believe him on that.
But it wasn’t whether or not I believed him, it was the fact that he’d decided to carry out his plots against me. Whether there was validity to his beliefs didn’t matter—he wanted to screw me over and, to me, that was unforgivable.
We didn’t talk much, and when we did, it usually ended up in an argument. Somehow, we’d learned how to go about our routines and make the situation work, though. How is beyond me, but we’d lasted this long without rescue. I’m sure we could last longer—even though the thought made my stomach coil in disgust.
Once we ran out of food and water from the emergency kit, we were forced to make our own. We had various containers to collect rainwater, and our own desalination process for the saltwater. Though, I’d found a stream a little ways up the mountain and if we weren’t getting enough condensation from the saltwater to make drinkable water, I’d hike up to the stream to collect some water to boil.
Not that it was needed today, as the overcast sky opened up, releasing a massive downpour over the island. I rushed under the shelter, which barely contained the rain. Ivan showed up a few minutes later, jogging to get out of the rain.
“Are the rain bowls out?” He asked, referring to all the containers we used to collect the rainwater.
Coconut shells were my favorite because, not only did they offer a hydrating water when they were cracked open, but when they collected water, there was still a faint taste of coconut left behind.
“Yup. All in place. Like they are every day in case it rains,” I griped, earning me a frown from Ivan, making me grin in response. Was it petty? Absolutely, but I couldn’t help feeling a little pride every time I put him in his place.
Unable to fish with the waves so high, and not wanting to hunt and forage in the rain, we sat under the shelter in silence, watching as the waves picked up as the hours passed.
I fell asleep for a while—or maybe it was just a few minutes. It was still daylight, so I couldn’t have slept for long, but when I awoke, Ivan had gathered our things and packed them into the bag.
“What’s going on?” I asked as he looked like he was preparing himself for battle with his homemade spears and weapons tied around his back.
He glanced from me to the ocean, and back. Biting his lip, a sense of worry clouded his face. “We may need to move inland. The tides have picked up significantly, and if they continue to grow, it’ll flood the camp.”
