Page 21 of Stolen By the Bratva

After I set her on the only bed pressed up against the wall, I studied her injuries. She still hadn’t woken, but I wasn’t too concerned. Her stomach gurgled and growled, and with the tightness of her skin and the darker circles under her eyes, I assumed she’d simply fainted with all the commotion. Food and water would help, but all I could do was examine her head where she’d knocked it. I was no medical professional, but I wasn’t too worried that she wasn’t awake yet. Her chest rose and fell steadily with strong, deep breaths. I did my best not to linger and stare at the huge swells of her tits straining against the low cut of her gown. Her bloody gown.

Next, I tended to the graze on her arm. It looked worse than it actually was. Stitches would be overkill, even if I could do them myself. Although it bled quickly and a lot, I doubted her unconscious status was due to significant blood loss.

I dampened a cloth and cleaned up her arm. A long length of gauze from a first-aid kit in the bathroom helped to compress the wound, and that was the best I could do. Her gown was pink and red, ripped in a few places. But it would be fine for now. This apartment wasn’t stocked with much more than the bare essentials, but I didn’t plan to stay here long. I had a spare change of clothes, but they’d dwarf her.

I stood back from her and heaved out a long exhale. Finally, I could breathe. And think.

Reactions and recrimination would come swiftly. As we’d fled the church, I heard and witnessed the beginning of it. Pavel was threatening me, Sergei shouting just as furious demands. The uproar had filled the church immediately, and everything that would follow as a reaction would happen just as quickly.

Only now, behind locked doors and secure with Andrey’s bride, did I let myself think back on it all as I walked back and forth. My actions would set a ripple through our world, but I’d known that going into it. I wasn’t remorseful. Not an ounce of guilt hung over me that I’d intervened in a wedding.

Mila moaned lightly, stirring on the bed, and I paused in my pacing to look back at her. Maybe a small thread of worry remained for her. I hadn’t intended for her to get hurt, yet what she’d suffered seemed minor.

As I thought back further to what she’d said in the office, I wondered if she would wake up mad that I’d crashed her wedding or if she’d be grateful. With the way she’d spoken in the office, I had a hunch that she was apprehensive about the union between our families. Now knowing that she was the bride, though, that put a different spin on it.

A headstrong and feisty woman like her didn’t deserve to be used as a fucking shield for a cowardly man like Andrey.

I huffed, resuming my pacing while she slept. Now wasn’t the time to be idle. I was already deep into strategizing mode, trying to guess at how this could play out. How Pavel would be reacting. I’d ousted myself from my uncle’s favor, but that had been a long time coming, anyway. It felt damned good to be opposing that old fucker for once. I’d dreamed of overthrowing that bastard many times, and only the worry of what my father would have thought kept me from acting on it.

Today had been the last straw, and I’d stand by my choices.

My phone rang, and seeing that it was Ivan, I answered immediately. My brothers had been instructed to contact me when it was deemed safer, when they were away from the church.

“Ivan.” I put the phone on speaker so I could hold it lower and still listen out for Mila waking.

“You’ve caused war,” my brother greeted dryly.

I nodded, almost letting a smile cover my lips. “Good.”

A longer moan and shuffle on the bed drew my attention to the woman waking up in my bed. Mila winced, blinking her expressive eyes a few times as she rolled over to see me. I watched as she surveyed the room, her gaze clouded with both shock and confusion. When her angry stare landed on me, I couldn’t look away.

“Good?” Ivan replied.

“Yes. Good. War will shake things up.” I let Mila look me over, and I wondered if she remembered me from earlier, either at her wedding or yesterday. If she had any memory issues from that knock on her head, it could change what I’d tell her. “I welcome war,” I told Ivan. “That’s what we need before anyone can ruin our Family.”

Her lips twisted. Recognition dawned in her sharp eyes, and she scowled a fierce expression of red-hot anger.

The sassy spitfire was awake. I stalked over to her, curious whether she’d give me trouble.

I look forward to it. That same flame of challenge and excitement coursed through my veins, heating my blood with the allure of arguing with her again. Of seeing her riled up again.

“Call me with more news when you get it,” I told Ivan before I hung up.

Right now, I had other matters to tend to.

One furious bride who glowered at me and gritted her teeth, taunting me to tell her exactly how this would go.

10

MILA

Iwoke to a throbbing ache in my head. As I gingerly brought my fingers to probe at the tender spot on my brow, I felt the mussed tangles of my hair. Then the ache of an injury in my arm.

What—

Memories streamed back to me, reminding me of the hell that had happened at the church. The tight pressure on my skin came from the tightly wound gauze that pressed against my split-open flesh.

I had been shot. I was kidnapped. My wedding…

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