Page 7 of Captured By the Bratva

Caleb’s jaw drops as he feels for my father’s pulse. His face pales, and he quickly looks at me, concern etched in his features. “What is it?” I ask, panic rising in my chest.

Caleb is silent, his expression dread-filled. He looks back at my father, his hand still on his wrist, feeling for any sign of life. “Violet,” he says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “He’s not breathing.”

The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I can’t process them. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice shaking. “He’s just sleeping, right? He’s fine.”

Caleb’s silence is deafening. He looks at me, his eyes filled with sorrow and fear. “He’s gone, Violet.”

The reality crashes down on me, and I stagger backward, my legs giving way. Caleb catches me, his arms strong and steady, but my world is spinning out of control. “No,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “This can’t be happening.”

Caleb holds me tightly, his grip the only thing keeping me grounded. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I bury my face in his chest, my sobs wracking my body. The pain is overwhelming, a crushing weight that threatens to suffocate me. My father, the one constant in my life, is gone. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me the most.

Caleb’s arms tighten around me, his presence a small comfort in the midst of my grief. “We need to call someone,” he says softly. “We need to get help.”

I nod numbly, unable to find the strength to speak. Caleb reaches for his phone, still holding me close, and makes the necessary calls. His voice is steady, somehow, and it only makes me fall apart faster.

Time seems to blur as we wait for help to arrive. I cling to Caleb, my mind a whirlwind of memories and regrets. I think of all the times I should have been there for my father, all the moments I took for granted. The guilt is a gnawing ache in my chest, a reminder of how disconnected I’ve been.

When the paramedics arrive, they move with practiced efficiency, but I can see the sadness in their eyes as they confirm what we already know. My father is gone, and there’s nothing anyone can do to bring him back.

Caleb stays by my side, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. He doesn’t leave me, even as the paramedics and police go through their procedures. He’s there, holding my hand, offering silent support.

As the hours pass, the reality of my father’s death slowly sinks in. The shock begins to fade, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. I feel hollow, as if a part of me has been ripped away.

Caleb leads me to the living room, guiding me to the couch. “Sit down,” he says gently. “You need to rest.”

I nod, too exhausted to argue. He sits beside me, his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him, seeking comfort in his strength. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, “for being here.”

He looks down at me, his eyes filled with empathy. There’s something else there too. Something I can’t place. “You’re my responsibility now.”

We sit in silence, the weight of the night pressing down on us. I close my eyes, trying to hold on to the feeling of Caleb’s arms around me, the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. The world outside continues to turn, but for now, all I can do is grieve for the man who meant everything to me.

Chapter Four - Kirill

The opulent surroundings of the Black Orchid Club shimmer under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and the faint perfume of the escorts that hover around our table.

It’s a typical night out for me, Dimitri, and my brother Ivan. The music thumps rhythmically, and the chatter of the elite patrons blends into a symphony of decadence.

Ivan sits beside me, his features strikingly similar to mine but with an air of cool detachment that sets him apart. His dirty blond hair, like mine, is neatly styled, and his piercing green eyes scan the room with a calm, almost bored expression.

He’s always been the calm to my storm, the balance to my ferocity.

Dimitri, ever the watchful right-hand man, rises to take a call. He steps away, the heavy beat of the club music swallowing the sound of his footsteps. I lean back in my chair, taking a sip of my whiskey and letting my eyes wander over the scene. The Black Orchid is a playground for the powerful, a place where deals are made and alliances are forged. It’s my sanctuary, a place where I can relax and indulge in the pleasures of life.

One of the escorts, a stunning brunette with legs that seem to go on forever, leans in closer, whispering something suggestive in my ear. I smirk, acknowledging her with a nod but keeping my focus on the room.

Ivan, sensing my distraction, nudges me slightly. “You seem preoccupied, Brother,” he says, his voice calm and measured.

I shrug, giving him a sideways glance. “Just thinking. How’s business on your end?”

Ivan nods, his expression unchanging. “Steady. No major issues. I have a feeling things are about to get interesting.”

Before I can respond, Dimitri returns, his face unusually stern. He leans down, whispering something in Ivan’s ear, and then turns to me, his eyes locking on to mine with a seriousness that immediately puts me on edge.

“We need to talk,” Dimitri says, his voice low but firm.

I raise an eyebrow, gesturing for the escorts to leave. “Girls, give us a moment,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. They reluctantly scatter, casting curious glances as they go.

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