Page 55 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“What happened back there, Sasha?” he says again, and I turn my head towards him, but I don’t reply because my thoughts are chaos.

“Hey, are you listening to me? That didn’t make any sense, what you did. You put yourself in harm’s way when you could have taken the chance to get away and go home. You could have escaped.”

I return to my pacing. My father has discovered who has me. He managed to track us down and run us off the road. He’ll be hell-bent on getting me back, but not because of love or family or wanting me to be safe. It will just be an ego thing.

“Sasha. What was that about?” Leon says more harshly.

I sigh loudly and flop onto the sofa opposite him. He’s not going to stop asking. I lean forward and put my head in my hands for a moment, rubbing my face, trying to organize my thoughts.

Finally, I look up at him, and I know my eyes are fierce because I can feel it inside my soul. I mean what I am about to say with every piece of me.

“I’m never going back there. I don’t ever want to see that man again.”

It’s as simple as I can put it.

“Your father?” he asks in shock.

“I hate him. I’ve always hated him. He is the cruelest man I have ever met and will do anything to avoid going back there, including choosing to stay with a man who kidnapped me,” I snap bitterly at him. I know my words will upset him, maybe even start a fight, but at this point I don’t care. I need him to know exactly where I stand on this matter.

I can see his jaw muscles clench and unclench as he thinks about what I’ve said. Maybe, just maybe, he’s thinking back to everything I’ve said that never quite made sense to him. Maybe all the pieces are fitting together. Maybe not. Maybe he’s just pissed off that I insulted him by saying I’m only using him to get away from my father at this point.

I sigh and lean back on the sofa, waiting for the inevitable outburst of anger, followed by pain for myself.

“Why do you hate your father so much?” he asks, which is not the question I was expecting. I think I was waiting for him to tell me what a selfish bitch I was, not for him to ask me something about myself. Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe I need to be clearer.

“What does it matter? All that matters is that I choose never to go back there. I choose to stay with you, the lesser of two evils, but I promise you, when I get a chance, when I am in the right position, I will leave you as well. I am going to escape the entire mafia world—all of the sick things that happen to people who live in this world. It’s dark and evil and I want nothing to do with it. So, I will never go back to my father. And one day, I will get away from you and your world as well.”

My entire body is tensely defensive. I am glaring at him and daring him to challenge my words. Waiting for the backlash. But he looks…gentle. His face is calm. He is quietly thinking about my words, but he has absolutely no anger on his face.

“What did he do to you?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter.” My eyes grow dark and moody, and I can’t look at him anymore, the memories of what my father did flooding my thoughts. I try to change the subject. “Aren’t you angry that I insulted you?”

“Insulted me? Oh—no. Sasha, I just need to know what he did to you. It does matter. It matters to me.” His tone is so gentle, almost soothing. It’s strange, but it sounds like he genuinely cares.

I find my emotions flipping between raging anger and a complete breakdown.

Years, an entire life of frustration builds inside me, and I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve never let it out before.

I turn to look at Leon again, and he is just waiting patiently for me to speak.

“He’s a monster. A literal monster," I blurt out. I’ve been so desperate to admit that truth for an eternity. “Every single day of my life has been miserable. He brings me down every chance he gets. I’ve never heard a kind word from his mouth. He belittles me and mocks me. If I say anything back, anything at all, he hits me. I’ve had to hide away for weeks at a time to keep the world from seeing my bruises. He broke my arm, throwing me down a flight of stairs, and wouldn’t even let me see a doctor. He had one of his goons click the bone back in place and then plaster it. I’m lucky it healed alright, but that pain—that pain, I will remember forever.”

“Sasha—"

“He is the one who locked me in the basement for days without food, water or any kind of comfort. It was my own father. My own father. He tortured men in front of me, murdered them, and told me I was weak because I didn’t want to watch their pain.”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I blurt out story after story of what he has done to me over the years.

My heart is breaking as I speak, because the more I tell, the more I remember what I’ve been through, as though I've managed to block it all, tuck it away and pretend it didn’t happen. But now it’s suddenly all on the surface, right here, and pouring out of my mouth.

I hate Danil Balakin just as much as every single other person out there does, and I am ashamed to have the same name as him.

I pause talking because my voice is choked with tears. I’m fighting it because I know I am not supposed to show emotion. Or was that just some stupid thing my father taught me, forced me to believe—emotions are weakness.

“Sasha," Leon says my name again, more gently.

I am so deep in my own pain, and I can tell he is trying to call me back into the moment, away from that darkness before I slip all the way into it.

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