Page 66 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

The name Andy had mentioned rang a bell in my head, and I was trying to recall where I’d heard it; then, it clicked. My mind raced back to the old picture of Dad with Vlad and a young man Babushka had said was called Joshua but that he had died early.

“Wait a minute, Joshua, as in Vlad’s friend? They were friends, weren’t they?” I asked.

He laughed. “Last time I checked, friends don’t kill each other. Vlad knows nothing about friendship, and for someone who’s so keen on loyalty, he lacks it.”

“I saw their picture—”

“I don’t care what you saw in the photo!” he snapped. “Vlad killed my brother…murdered him in cold blood, and he didn't stop there. He killed his one-month-old baby as well. He’s a monster!”

I knew Vlad was cruel and ruthless, but killing a baby? That was next-level wickedness. Was he truly heartless? How could he do such an inhumane act and still shut his eyes at night to sleep?

My heart was bleeding at this shocking revelation, and tears welled in my eyes. My lips quivered as I struggled not to break down crying. There was a pit in my stomach, and it was growing deeper by the second.

“Do you know?” he continued. “We didn’t even find their bodies. He must have burned them and warmed up his hands in the cruel, cold weather. Is this man you want to father your child?”

His question struck me like lightning, and I immediately started to have a rethink. If Vlad was capable of killing an infant, he truly was far gone.

This explained my grandmother’s resentment toward him; he was evil, and the man who I’d once felt safe around was suddenly the devil I didn’t want to have around me.

Vlad may be the devil himself, but right now, Andy is no angel. He’s going to kill you and the baby you’re carrying if you don’t do something real fast, my voice of reason said.

But what can I do now at this point? I’m strapped to a fucking chair.

“Listen, Andy, you really don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt anyone to prove a point.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, coming closer. “You see, Vlad isn’t the only person you’re connected to that’s involved in this.” He bent over to look me in the eye. “Looks like dear old Dad isn’t the man you think he is, either.”

My dad? No!

“What—what’re you talking about?” I stuttered.

“Your father isn’t just Vlad’s best friend; he was his accomplice in the murder of my brother and his child.”

Hearing him say those words hurt more than I thought it would, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. Everything was happening so fast, and it was scary. I loved and idolized my dad, so you can imagine how shocked I was to find out that he was just as bad, just as guilty as Vlad. This ripped my heart apart and messed with my head.

I tried to fathom what was happening, but I couldn’t—tried to find and make excuses for my dad, but there were none. Now, me and the baby in my womb were in grave danger for something we knew nothing about. We were at the mercy of this man, but with how much rage I saw boiling in his eyes, I knew he would show everything but mercy.

I had to do something—to try something, at least.

He rolled the blade over his fingers, and I watched the killer in him take the wheel. His face was squeezed into a frown, and his grip around the hilt of his blade tightened.

“The sins of the father have caught up with you,” he said with finality.

As he raised his hand over me, ready to strike, I was overwhelmed by a survival instinct. I didn’t know I’d done it at first, but with the adrenaline pumping through me, I kicked him hard in the groin. He groaned, reflexively dropping the knife as he bent to grab his balls in pain.

Considering how close he was to me, I threw my head back, and with everything in me, I slammed my forehead into his face. The impact was so powerful that he dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

The collision had hurt my head, but it hurt him more, and I could see that he was in pain, serious pain.

“Bitch! You fucking broke my nose,” he grunted, slapping a hand over it as it bled uncontrollably.

I struggled with the chair, but to avail.

He rose to his feet, burning with anger as the will to kill glared in those eyes.

Uh-oh, now he’s pissed.

“You’re feisty, I’ll give you that.” He wiped the back of his hand over his nose, spat out a glob of blood on the ground, and stepped forward. “But nothing and no one can save you from me now!”

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