Page 50 of Forced Bratva Wife

When I turned around, I could see the person who’d snuck into Lev’s room. He wore a black ski mask and black clothing that covered up every part of his body. Clearly, he was a professional because I was left with zero identifying details.

Call for help, moron!

Reason kicking in, I scream out for the guards, but there’s no response. I sent them away to get supplies, unknowingly shooting myself in the foot.

I ran for the door, but before I could get there, the man’s burly arms were around me again. I thrashed and kicked to get him away, fighting dirty and digging my nails into the flesh of his arms as best I could through the thick fabric.

It wasn’t enough, and the cloth, no doubt soaked in chloroform, was pressed to my mouth again. I struggle harder, trying to hold my breath so I don’t inhale the fumes. But there’s little I could do against the natural urge to breathe. All this fucker needed to do was wait, hold onto me and just wait.

Several seconds passed, and sure enough, my involuntary need for air took over, and I sucked in a breath through my nose. My vision swam immediately, and at once, the world started spinning.

By sheer luck, my bawled fist connected with the man’s jaw as I clung to the last of my consciousness. I scrambled up as he flung backward, heading straight for the door. My legs shook underneath me, however, and I was clumsy as I tried to climb over the chaise and get to the door,

My attacker appeared to be in no better shape, as he stumbled and fell over the object while pursuing me. Blood gushed from his nose, and I silently congratulated myself for breaking it.

I took off down the hall once I got the door open, stumbling along like a drunk as the chloroform flooded my veins.

I hadn’t breathed too much of it in, but consciousness was still beginning to fail me.

Just make it to someone. Make it to anyone, dammit.

At once, the floor came up and greeted me with a hard slap as I tripped over my own damn feet and fell. The impact sent pain blooming through my cheek, and I knew I would have a wicked bruise.

Pound, pound, pound.

The intruder's footsteps boomed down the hall toward me, and I tried to pull myself up off the beautiful carpet and run.

It wasn’t working.

Between the drug and the impact to my face, the world was too blurry, my limbs too heavy, and my speed way too fucking slow.

He was on me in a flash, pressing that damned cloth to my nose again and holding it there with everything he had. My eyes watered, the sting making them burn, and the pressure on my cheekbone ached. I tried to hold out; I really did, but as more of the chemical entered my bloodstream, I passed out.

The last cohesive thought I had was praying to God that I’d left enough evidence behind to give Lev something to go of when he came to find me.

Because I knew he would.

Chapter 23 - Lev

Sergey’s house was in a chaotic state of violence and panic. There were several men scattered throughout the lawn, injured or dead, and there were still more running through the halls inside the estate. My men and I swarmed through the home like locusts, taking out the remaining asshole who looked to be assaulting the Vadim household and staff.

My main goal was to locate Sergey, but aimlessly wandering the corridors wouldn't help me achieve that. The only way I could gather any information about this place was by finding the family leader.

“Fan out. Take out the fuckers causing this bullshit. If you find Sergey, radio me.”

We were all equipped with walkies for easy communication, and since we’d been given the time, we all made sure to don our lifted bulletproof vests as well. Pietor hurried up, his gun leveled at the hallway just ahead of us.

“Information, Lev. We need it.”

I sighed, grumbling to myself about the unfortunately correct statement.

“Find one to question. We want information about what Pavel’s up to.”

My men nodded in unison and then took off down the several halls that splintered off from this main vestibule.

Pietor stayed with me, and as we rounded another corner that led to the upper east wing, we spotted one of the intruders crouching behind a broken desk that had somehow made it out into the hall.

Nailing the fucker in the leg, Pietor slowed him down, and I shot through his hand when he went for his piece. We hurried over, and I kicked the gun away to be out of reach of our new friend, and Pietor pinned him to the desk, stepping down on his leg wound.

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