Page 63 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

My brows furrowed, and the pit in my stomach told me otherwise. Based on the fact that I wasn’t in the condo and Yaro wasn’t there, I had the feeling that wasn’t the case.

“What are you talking about?” I managed to say, aware of how my voice wavered.

He dropped his hands and shrugged. “Your father just wanted you to be safe and to be free of the Levovs. They kidnapped you, but you didn’t deserve that. So I decided to help.”

Even with the clarification, it didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t seen my dad in months, and he certainly did not attempt to do any sort of ‘saving.’

Feeling exposed under his eyes, wearing only a thin pajama set, I crossed my arms and looked at him oddly, confused.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m Pietro. My father is an old friend of your dad’s, who we can’t find at the moment no matter how hard we try. But it was his wish for you to be free again,” he said simply as if he had accomplished the greatest favor for me.

Staring back at him, I tried to place that name. It was familiar.

My mind raced back to the interrogation, and it clicked at once.

Pietro Bruno, the one who orchestrated the hits. The one behind Yaro’s stress for the last few months.

I froze immediately, far too aware that I was in the same room as someone willing to reach the lowest of lows to ruin the Levov name.

I couldn’t believe it.

Yaro had warned me someone might try to use me like a betting chip one day, and while it seemed like a valid concern given his work, I never thought I would find myself in that position.

I assumed I was safe enough in the condo, but it seemed Pietro and his men had found a way to make it happen, even if I couldn’t remember it.

But if he really wanted to free me as he said, then that could be my chance to escape. I just had to play my cards right.

Taking in a discreet breath, I did my best to find my voice again. “I want to leave. If you intend to do what my father wanted, then you’ll let me go.”

Pietro didn’t budge. Instead, he tilted his head and studied me through the dark room. “I can’t let you go yet. Not until everything is over.”

While it sounded like he intended to eventually, the thought of being confined at his will made me want to get out even more. I felt squeamish, caught between fight or flight.

Shaking my head, panic rose in my chest. “You can’t keep me here like this. I need to go home.”

He kissed his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Your dad said you were always blind to what was good for you, and I see that already. But soon enough, you’ll understand.”

Hearing his condescending tone felt like cold hands wrapping around my neck. That need to fight only grew the more I listened to him talk, but I was at a disadvantage. I was in an unfamiliar place—likely his home—with no clue of how far I was from home. I was unarmed, but Pietro had a gun holstered against his upper thigh.

The thought of tricking him and somehow securing the weapon for myself crossed my mind, but he was much bigger than me. Even if he wasn’t quite as muscular as Yaro, he was tall and likely strong enough to fend me off.

Despite the adrenaline in my system, I didn’t have the energy to put up the fight I needed to.

I didn’t know what to do.

That helplessness made me angry and upset all at the same time. My hands continued to shake as I looked at him.

“I want to see my husband,” I said, rigid with every word.

A sigh came from Pietro, and he shook his head. “I can’t do that, Grace. You know that.”

While it was a long shot, that denial made the emotions course through me. My whole body shook, and I felt prepared to explode. I needed out. I wanted Yaro.

“Let me see him!” I shouted at him, leaving my patience behind.

But Pietro only continued to shake his head absently as he backed himself closer to the door. “Yaro isn’t good for you. I’m sure he has brainwashed you by now, but you need to detox yourself of him.”

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