Page 28 of Stolen By the Bratva

“Don’t waste your time asking to be released.”

I shut my mouth and sighed. We entered another stare-down and I wished for a witty comeback. Nothing came to me, and he raised his brows in silent question. I hated that my silence was basically an admission that he was in charge. But literally nothing came to me. I didn’t know what to say. “I meant I wanted you to talk.”

He grinned, dark and slow. “Because you’re deluded enough to think you’re in charge here?”

I didn’t respond, depriving him of the satisfaction.

If he didn’t want to kill me, he had to realize I was more worthy alive. And if he wanted me alive, I had to serve some kind of purpose. His act of kidnapping me had to be a step toward stopping the Valkov-Kastava union, but why? Whatever his reasoning, I wouldn’t fight it.

“I’ll help you.” I blurted it out too quickly, and he didn’t seem to be swayed by my offer. “What do you want?”

“From you?” He smirked. “I don’t trust you.”

“It’s not like I tied you up and kidnapped anyone. I’m the trustworthy one between the two of us!”

“You’re a Kastava.”

“And you’re a Valkov.” We were enemies and we knew it. “Or you were.”

He paused in sliding his legs off the bed to glower over his shoulder at me.

“Why are you defying your Family?” I’d heard his brother yesterday, how Pavel Valkov was out to get him now. Blurred memories of the church stayed in my mind, and I recalled how all the men shouted at him to stop. Alek had caused war by intervening at my wedding. He’d risked his family’s wrath in doing so.

“I’m not defying my Family.” He stood and walked toward the kitchenette.

“You are!” I protested, watching him grab some things and set them on a plate. “Your uncle isn’t pleased with you.”

Neither is my father.

He didn’t reply, preparing a couple of plates of simple foods. With a couple of water bottles tucked under his arm, he returned and shoved one plate toward me.

“Alek, why?—”

He shot me a stern look to shut up and I huffed out a breath. I accepted the plate, pleased that he didn’t skimp on the offerings. Crackers, cheese, nuts, and more dried fruit. It was the biggest meal I’d had all year.

Before he started on his food, he checked my wound. He uncoiled a bit of the gauze and checked that it wasn’t inflamed, then wrapped it back up.

I couldn’t make sense of him. He wanted me fed and well. Healthy and uninjured. I didn’t know enough about him, but I understood that he was a hard man. He wasn’t doting on me, but… something else.

Is he keeping me in good health because I need to be in good condition when he returns me to my father? The thought of that future didn’t fill me with comfort. I swallowed a bite and watched him pick up his plate. “Are you going to deliver me back to my father?”

He didn’t speak. His mouth was full of food as he peered at me dully, but his dry expression spoke volumes. As we ate, he didn’t tell me a single detail about any of his plans. “War was inevitable,” he stated instead. It was a cryptic reply, but I would take it for what it was worth—stupidity.

“Not before you burst into my wedding like that.”

He shook his head. “Our families cannot align. Not like they wanted it to. Therefore, war was inevitable, and change will follow.”

For the better or worse, though?

“You broke your Family’s loyalty, striking against the wishes of the rightful head of your bratva.”

He scoffed. “Spoken like a properly trained bratva woman, huh?”

“It’s true. You’ve ruined the loyalty by disobeying your?—”

His plate slid on his lap as he abruptly lowered it. “Ruined the loyalty? No, I fucking did not. And I’ve never felt that my uncle was a leader in any sense of the word.”

I blinked, digesting his words. This was a huge comment to share, a significant opinion. No one—and I meant no one—ever dared to speak against their Pakhan like that.

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