Page 2 of Captured By the Bratva

“Good night, Violet,” my father replies, his voice softer now. Caleb just waves, looking a bit sheepish.

As I make my way up to my room, I can’t shake the feeling that something big is happening—something that’s going to change everything. For now, all I can do is try to get some sleep and hope that tomorrow brings some answers.

Once in my room, I close the door behind me and lean against it, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. My room, at least, feels like a sanctuary. It’s modern, like the rest of the house, but it has my personal touches—a gallery wall of photos with friends, a comfy reading nook by the window, and my collection of vintage vinyl records.

I flop onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. My father’s sudden overprotectiveness has been driving me insane for the past month. Whatever’s going on, I’m the one bearing the brunt of his annoyance. I understand that he’s worried, but treating me like a child isn’t helping anyone.

Why can’t he just tell me what’s going on? Why is Caleb, of all people, backing him up on this?

My thoughts swirl as I change into my pajamas and crawl under the covers. Sleep doesn’t come easily. I toss and turn, my mind replaying the night’s events over and over. Tonight was supposed to be a fun, carefree evening, but now all I can think about is my father’s stern face and Caleb’s infuriating smirk.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I drift into a restless sleep, my dreams filled with shadows and whispers.

Chapter Two - Kirill

The room is dark, lit only by a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. The smell of sweat and blood fills the air, a grim reminder of the work being done here. I step inside, my heavy boots echoing off the concrete floor. The man tied to the chair in the center of the room looks up as I approach, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. His eyes, though swollen, still burn with defiance.

Dimitri, my right-hand man, stands to the side, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He nods at me as I enter, a silent acknowledgment of our shared purpose.

“Has he talked?” I ask, my voice low and steady.

Dimitri shakes his head. “Not a word. He says he’ll never reveal anything about his boss.”

I step closer to the man in the chair, studying him. He’s from the Black Serpents, a rival gang that has been encroaching on our territory for months now. We’ve been at war with them for years, but lately, their attacks have become more frequent, more brazen. This man knows enough to give us the advantage… if he decides to talk.

“What’s your name?” I ask, my tone almost casual.

The man spits blood onto the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Go to hell.”

I nod slowly, taking in his defiance. It’s admirable, in a way. Ultimately, it’s pointless. “Dimitri, remind him why he’s here.”

Dimitri steps forward, grabbing the man’s hair and yanking his head back. “You’re here because you messed with the wrong people. Now, you’re going to tell us everything you know about the Black Serpents.”

The man grits his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. “I’d rather die than betray them.”

I smile, though there’s no warmth in it. “That can be arranged. Before we get to that, let’s try something else.”

I motion for Dimitri to step back, and he does, though he keeps a close eye on our captive. I crouch down so that I’m at eye level with the man, my face inches from his.

“You see, you have a choice,” I say softly. “You can talk, and maybe we can find a way to make this easier for you. Or you can stay silent, and I’ll let Dimitri here continue his work. He enjoys his job, you know.”

The man swallows hard, his eyes flicking to Dimitri and then back to me. For a moment, I think he might break. Then he shakes his head, his jaw set with stubborn determination.

“I’ll never betray them,” he repeats, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I nod, a cold smile spreading across my face. “We’ll see about that.”

Reaching into my jacket, I pull out a sleek, silver knife. The man’s eyes widen with fear as he watches the blade glint in the dim light. Without another word, I plunge the knife into his thigh, twisting it slowly, savoring the sound of his scream.

“Where is he hiding?” I ask, my voice calm and steady as the man writhes.

The man grits his teeth, trying to hold back another scream. Blood pools around the knife, soaking into his pants. “I… I can’t….”

I twist the knife further, watching as his resolve crumbles. “You can. You will. Where is he?”

Tears mix with the blood and sweat on his face as he finally breaks. “Alright, alright! He’s… he’s at an old warehouse on Fourteenth and Maple. Please, just stop!”

I grin, satisfaction coursing through me. “Was that so hard?”

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