Page 57 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

“You tried to have me killed,” I spit.

“I didn’t try to have you killed,” he says, rolling his eyes. “If I had, you’d be dead. Know that, and stop being so dramatic.”

He paces back and forth a few times, rubbing his chin.

“You know,” he says, eyes finding mine. “I think you need some time to think this through. We’ll leave you alone for a moment.”

I watch as James and Devon leave through the door. A moment later, I’m alone in the room, with nothing but the dripping water to keep me company. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to slow my heart rate so I can try and figure out what I’m going to do next.

There’s rope around my arms and legs, covered with duct tape. It’s going to be very difficult to get off without something sharp to use. I look around the room and identify a piece of stone jutting from the wall that looks like it could work. I just have to get close enough to it—

My eyes snap back to the door when it opens, and someone slips inside.

“Olive,” I say, watching as she comes in, her eyes darting around. She has her arms wrapped around herself like she can’t stand the idea of accidentally brushing against the walls.

“Fiona,” she says when she finally focuses on me. “Oh my god—” she stops, putting a hand to her mouth for a moment. “You’re tied up.”

“Yeah, well, that’s usually what you do when you abduct someone.”

“Fiona, this is insane. Listen, I know that it’s shocking about my dad—I only recently found out myself—but he’s still the same man. He’s still the good person, you know.”

“Olive, what do you know about your dad.”

“He’s the leader of the Corsica,” she says, her back straightening a little. “He built the French mafia up from practically nothing. Here on the West Coast, he’s making a name for us.”

“What else? What kind of stuff?”

“Like…” she pauses. “It doesn’t matter. I know him. You know him. And all this stuff with the other mafia guy, I don’t know what he’s done to you—I don’t even want to think about it—but you know we will get them back for it. For hurting you. I just need you to come to your senses and tell my dad you’ll become a part of the Corsica with us.”

“I won’t.”

“Fiona,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I don’t—”

“Your dad does human trafficking. Do you know that, Olive?” I say, meeting her gaze with as much intensity as I can. “He is responsible for the death of a six-year-old kid. He planted a bomb in the facility where I was working just as a ploy to kidnap me—that bomb could have caught on jet fuel. Not only would it have killed many, many people, but it would have been an ecological disaster in the area. Could have started a forest fire.”

“That’s not true,” she says, shaking her head. “He didn’t—”

“Olive, I would never lie to you,” I say, leaning forward, the duct tape biting into my skin. “You know that. I love you. You’re my best friend. And I know you would never go along with this stuff. I know you.”

Olive shakes her head, then swallows hard, like it’s difficult for her to do.

“I just can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” she says, a sob ripping up her throat. “I don’t know what they did to you, how they brainwashed you, but I miss my friend.”

With that, she turns and walks out of the room. My heartbeat echoes in my ears.

I start to shimmy the chair over to the wall, rubbing my wrists against it to cut through the tape and rope. It rubs painfully against my skin, tearing it open and making it bleed, but I have to push through the pain. A full minute later, I have a hand free, and the second one comes off even quicker. After that, I’m able to pull the duct tape off and untie the ropes around my ankles, getting to my feet.

My body feels a little stiff, a little strange, and hard to control at first, but I make it to the door, glancing up and down the hallway. Both directions look equally viable, but out of some luck, I’m still able to smell Olive’s perfume, so I head in the opposite direction she went.

James must have sent her in to try and get her to talk to me. To try and convince me to abandon the Milovs and join up with his group. I shake my head as I walk, trying to shake out the pain in my leg. I must have been cramped up at some point, maybe in the trunk of a car after they kidnapped me.

I turn into another hallway, feeling like I’m getting closer to the exit, only to come face-to-face with the end of a gun.

“Fiona,” Olive says, and the word comes out like a sob, breathy and sad. “Come on. Please don’t make me do this.”

“You’re going to shoot me?” I ask, incredulous, glancing between her and the gun. She shakes her head, and I notice her hands are shaking as she points it at me.

I guess that having only recently found out about her dad and his true occupation, Olive hasn’t had much training with this weapon. In one swift moment, I turned around and trapped her forearm between my side and my arm, quickly getting the gun from her grasp. I kick away from her and spin, pointing the gun at her with steady hands.

---