Page 89 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“Here you go, Sasha,” she says softly as she places the water next to me. For a second, she lifts her hand, wanting to reach out and touch me. Her eyes are narrowed, filled with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

My father grabs her arm and yanks her away from me. “Enough of that. Get away from her. All I asked for was water. I don’t want a whole ceremony,” he snaps angrily.

Marie looks as though she wants to cry. It’s been so long since I last saw her. My heart breaks for her; she’s been stuck here this whole time, and all I want to do is hug her. She was my only source of comfort.

“Well, basically, my plan was a complete success.” My father carries on talking about his brilliant plan as though it’s the only thing that matters. He hasn’t even asked me if I’m okay. Shit. The syringe. They injected me with something. What was it? Would it be harmful to my baby?

I rest my hand over my stomach as anxiety rushes through me.

And Leon. Leon will definitely try to get me back. He’s going to put himself in danger to try and rescue me.

I bite my lower lip. I don’t want him to get hurt. What if something happens to him? My father has so many guards. Looking around, I can see men walking outside the window. They’re patrolling the perimeter of the property in full force. I think he’s even hired extra guards because there are a lot of new faces here.

He’s ready for Leon.

He’s prepared because he’s expecting him to come and find me.

As I pick up the glass of water with shaking hands, my father is still telling me how brilliant his plan was, how easy it was easy for him. He’s so self-obsessed.

But—would he maybe soften if he knew I was pregnant? Would he consider not hurting Leon if he knew I was carrying his baby?

“Dad?” I say, drawing hit attention towards me and interrupting his rant.

“What?” he barks.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Well, spit it out, I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Dad, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. Leon is the father.”

He cracks up laughing, a loud guffaw that bursts from his mouth.

“And?” He shrugs his shoulders as though what I’ve told him means less than nothing.

“And…Leon is going to be the father of my baby. We need to make a truce with him and his family. For the child’s sake. We can make some kind of agreement and—"

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“For the sake of your grandchild,” I say angrily. “Aren’t you even slightly happy that your daughter is pregnant?”

“Oh, darling Sasha, my slow, weak, pathetic daughter—of course, I’m thrilled that you are pregnant. Over the moon, actually.”

“You are?” I say, filled with hope.

“Yes, because now I can use the vermin you’re carrying to control that Leon Dubrov. I’ll be able to get him to do whatever I want, forever. I mean—it’s the most incredible type of control. I can use that kid to bring him to his knees. I will destroy him,” my father says excitedly. “This is by far the best news you could ever have given me.”

“Dad. You are talking about my baby.” I want to cry, seeing his reaction and having the truth sink in like this.

“Yes,” he nods, not understanding why I’m upset.

“Your own family. Your grandchild,” I keep trying to reason with him, but the more I do, the more I can see it’s a lost cause. My father doesn’t care that he is going to be a grandfather. He doesn’t care that I’m going to be a mother.

He doesn’t care about anything except for the fact that he can use this little life to control someone else. That’s all he wants. Power. The ability to have a hold over someone.

I can feel the tears stinging my eyes and I try to blink them away, knowing he will mock me for crying. But then I realize I don’t care if he does.

Why should I care about a man that doesn’t care about me?

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