Page 15 of Captured By the Bratva

I take a deep breath and sit back down on the edge of my bed, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. What should I do? Kirill’s message is short, but it implies urgency. I can’t ignore it, but I also can’t blindly trust him. My mind races with possibilities and dangers.

What do you want to talk about?

The response comes almost immediately.

There are things you need to know.

My heart pounds in my chest. What could he possibly know about my father’s death that I don’t already? The doctors said it was a heart attack, but given everything Caleb told me about the threats, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the story.

Why should I trust you?

A pause, then another message.

Because your father did.

I chew on my bottom lip, considering his words. My father trusted Kirill enough to involve him in his business dealings. And despite Caleb’s warnings, I can’t shake the feeling that Kirill holds pieces of the puzzle I need to complete the picture of my father’s last days.

Where and when?

Ten tomorrow morning. The Opal & Oak. Come alone.My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitation making them tremble. Meeting him alone feels risky, but I need answers. I can’t rely solely on Caleb, as much as I trust him. There’s a part of this mystery that only Kirill can reveal.

Fine. I’ll be there.

I stare at the screen for a long moment after his last message, my mind racing with what this meeting could entail. The mansion feels even more suffocating now, the shadows of my thoughts closing in around me. I know Caleb will be furious if he finds out, but I can’t let that stop me. My father’s death, the threats, Kirill’s involvement—they’re all pieces of a dangerous puzzle, and I need to see the full picture.

As I finally lie back down, I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me. Tomorrow will bring answers, I hope. But with those answers might come even more questions and dangers. I have to be ready for whatever Kirill has to say.

Chapter Eight - Kirill

I glance at my watch, noting the time with a twinge of impatience. She isn’t here yet. Did she decide to dip at the last moment? I scan the restaurant, the quiet hum of morning activity doing little to ease my restlessness.

For someone in her position, she should know better than to be late. My fingers drum on the table, and I let out a breath, trying to keep my thoughts in check.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Violet Harrison walks in, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me. She approaches with a purposeful stride, and I can’t help but notice how even in a modest mid-length dress, she exudes an understated elegance. The dress hugs her curves just enough for me to appreciate her figure without being overtly revealing. It’s a delicate balance, one that she manages effortlessly.

“Good morning,” she greets as she sits down opposite me, her voice steady but betraying a hint of nerves.

“Good morning, Malyshka,” I respond, the endearment slipping out naturally. There’s something about her that demands a nickname. It means baby girl.

Violet raises an eyebrow at the nickname but doesn’t comment on it. I can read emotions well, and despite her confident front, I see the flicker of nervousness in her eyes, the slight tension in her shoulders.

“You’re in danger,” I say without preamble, watching her reaction closely.

She tilts her head slightly, a skeptical smile forming on her lips. “Why should I believe you? How do you even know anything about my family’s business?”

I lean forward, my eyes locking on to hers. “Your father reached out to me before he passed away. He paid me a handsome amount to protect you, Violet. This isn’t a bluff or a game. He trusted me with your safety, and now it’s my duty to ensure you stay safe.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand to stop her. “You may not like it, but for me to fulfill my role, you need to follow my rules. This is not negotiable.”

Violet’s eyes flash with defiance, but she remains silent, weighing my words. I can see her mind working, trying to piece together the situation.

“Why would my father trust you?” she finally asks, her voice softer now, the skepticism giving way to genuine curiosity.

“He knew I could handle threats that go beyond the law,” I reply. “He knew I have the resources and the network to protect you in ways others can’t. Your father was a smart man. He saw the value in what I offer.”

Violet sits back, processing this. I take the opportunity to study her more closely. Her brown hair frames her face perfectly, and her eyes, despite the fear and uncertainty, hold a depth that’s captivating. There’s a strength in her that I admire, even if she doesn’t fully realize it yet.

“I don’t like this,” she admits after a moment. She scoffs in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right over me,” she says, her tone calm but laced with a feisty edge. “I can very much protect myself, and I don’t believe for a second that my father reached out to you. You’re playing some sort of game, and I don’t want any part of it.”

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