Page 32 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

We can’t call Boris or Ivan. That would defeat the entire purpose of why we followed Lev. The goal isn’t to get Damien in trouble. It’s to get Damien the help he needs.

Now, there’s only one person I trust enough to not face consequences from. My brother, Gael.

“Let me call Gael. We need help, and fast,” I say, dialing again.

“But—,” Damien protests, his voice strained.

“Gael is my Lev,” I explain. The doubt fades away from Damien’s eyes, and he mutters, “Do it.”

I dial Gael’s number, praying he’ll answer. “Gael, it’s Gen. I need your help right away. Damien’s hurt, and the cops are after us.”

“What? Where are you?” Gael asks, concern lacing his voice.

“An alley to the East of the emergency exit near this underground fighting ring. I’m sending you the exact pin on your phone. Please, follow the directions and hurry. We don’t have much time.”

“Stay put. I’m on my way,” he says before hanging up. I feel grateful. I know Gael has tons of questions, but he won’t ask them until we’re safe. Right now, that small act of kindness is the difference between life and death.

I glance at Damien, his face pale and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Fear settles in my chest as I realize just how badly injured he is. But I won’t let it show—not now when he needs me to be strong.

“Help is coming,” I assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his damp forehead. “Just hang on, okay?”

“Never thought I’d owe you one, Genevieve,” he murmurs, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Let’s just get you out of this mess first,” I reply, my heart swelling with newfound protectiveness for this man whom I married with the intention of never caring for.

***

“I’ll be there in two. Come out,” Gael calls me.

I help Damien up. He feels warm to my touch, like he’s burning up. I hold my breakdown at bay. I only need to stay strong for a few more minutes, then I’ll have my brother’s support.

We step out of the abandoned store and stay at the back of the alley. A car enters, its lights bright in our eyes. I shield Damien’s eyes from the light, not wanting his head to hurt.

Finally, Gael’s car stops right in front of us. He jumps out, his eyes wide with worry as they land on Damien.

“Get him in the car,” I order, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fact that I’m panicking. Together, we manage to hoist Damien into the backseat, where he collapses onto the leather upholstery. Gael gets in the front, and I sit in the back with Damien. I gingerly lift his head and place it on my lap.

“Where are we going?” Gael asks, glancing at me through the mirror as he starts the engine.

“Take us to one of my unmanned Zolotov hideouts,” Damien instructs through broken breaths. “We can’t go home. Some of my guards might be loyal to Boris.”

“Why can’t Boris know?” Gael frowns.

“Just do as he says,” I tell Gael through gritted teeth. I’m afraid the more Damien speaks, the more energy he’ll lose.

Damien brings a trembling hand to the air, his knuckles bloodied. “M… my phone. Open the notes. There’s a list of addresses under ‘hideout’.”

I nod, sending the first one I find to Gael. I then turn to Damien and lean down closer to his ear. Without thinking, I kiss his forehead, just the softest graze of my lips against his skin, and whisper: “You’re safe now.”

He tries to smile, but all I see is pain.

“Don’t move,” I mutter, placing my hand softly on his shoulder. “Just rest.”

When I look up, I observe Gael’s eyes darting from the street to us. “Genevieve, perhaps we can go to ours. Dad will want to know what’s going on,” Gael says, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he says the words.

“Gael, don’t tell him,” I reply firmly, meeting Gael’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “This is our mess, and we’ll handle it. Right now, we need to focus on getting Damien better and I don’t want more stress in this situation. I don’t want Dad’s wrath. Damien is now MY husband, and I call the shots. Is that clear?”

Gael seems hesitant, but he nods in agreement, knowing that I’m right. We drive in silence, the tension hanging heavy in the air. I keep glancing at Damien, his labored breathing a constant reminder of the urgency of our situation.

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