Page 9 of Forced By the Bratva

She breathed in and out slowly. I waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. “Jones caught me. He took my money and told me if I didn’t comply, he would have me killed.”

Standing, I surveyed the area. It was so quiet. I could hear my heart racing. I wasn’t sure what to do with the information she had just provided. But she was married to me now, and I couldn’t take the chance of Jones finding her. I had to protect her from the likes of him.

Clearing my throat, I spoke out. I was furious at Jones, confused and overwhelmed with tons of emotions I couldn’t quite place. “I’m sorry for the predicament. But we are married now, and I want to help you.”

The words had barely left my mouth when she bounced up and shoved me back hard. I fell backward as she went running again. This can’t be happening, I thought as I sprinted after her again.

This time, I grabbed her around the waist. Turning her to face me, I took hold of her arms. “What are you thinking? We’re in the middle of nowhere! You have no place to run to princess; stop this ridiculousness.” I spat at her, feeling my anger flaring.

Chapter 5 - Alyssa

“He knows who you are; he wants you. Can’t you see this was all a ruse to get to you!” I spat at him, trying to pull free from his grip. “Just let me go, please, Jones is going to make life difficult for us both if I stay,” I added, feeling my tears on the verge of erupting again. His grip was solid but didn’t hurt.

Piotr just stood holding my arm, staring off into the darkness. I thought he was in a trance for a moment, and we would be standing outside here all night. Then he looked at me, and I saw the rage in his eyes.

He picked me up and flung me over his shoulder with incredible speed. My heart raced as I wasn’t sure what he would do to me in a fit of rage. His arms and chest were hard as rocks. Yet, his touch was gentle. “Please, just let me go,” I begged softly as he lowered me and pushed me back into the car.

Strapping me in, he glanced at me. He spoke in a deep, authoritative tone. “Stop trying to run.” There was a flicker of something in his gray eyes as he spoke. I couldn’t quite place it through. It seemed like a mixture of anger and sadness. Folding my hands in my lap, I felt a fluttering in my stomach. I quickly turned my gaze down to my lap. I didn’t feel comfortable with him seeing something that wasn’t there.

“I’m not going to hurt you. But I will throw you in the boot if you continue this stubbornness. Do we have an understanding?” He breathed out.

I nodded in agreement without looking up. He slammed the door shut and got back behind the wheel. I could hear him taking deep breaths as we pulled away. I didn’t know this man, but the tone of his voice was enough to make me comply.

We sat in silence as he drove home. Staring out the window into the blackness, I wasn’t sure where we were going. I had never been to this area before. Pulling up to large iron gates, he pressed a button, and they opened. In the distance, I could see the towering mansion. It was bigger than any of the places Jones owned.

I gasped as he pulled up to the three-story mansion. It looked like a castle, and I couldn’t wait to see it in daylight. The lights surrounding the place lit up the area quite magnificently. But there were still dark spots.

The garage door opened, and he pulled the car in next to two motorcycles. I knew one was his but wasn’t sure about the other one. The light inside was not as bright as the outside but was sufficient. Piotr got out, moved around the car, and opened my door. He held out his hand as he spoke. “Your new abode, my lady.”

The calmness he portrayed caught me slightly off guard, but it was nice. Taking his hand, I allowed him to guide me to a door leading into the mansion. Stepping inside, we entered a large kitchen. To the side was a long table with seating for about sixteen people.

Yet, it was in an immaculate condition and appeared to be rarely used. It was like something out of a fairytale. The table had large engraved wooden legs with a glass top. The chairs were made of the same wood with carvings on them. They had dark red fluffed seats and backs. I thought they might be comfortable even though they didn’t look at it.

Before us was an island suitable for about eight people. Beyond that were some fridges, cupboards, counters, two large basins, and a dishwasher. On my right was another long countertop with cupboards and drawers underneath it. These ended at a large six-plate stove.

The entire room appeared to be sparkling. I had never seen a place so clean before. It brought a sense of coldness. I couldn’t believe anyone was living here. Piotr turned me to the side and led me through an open archway. We entered another big room that appeared to be a living area. This area also had a large table with multiple seats.

Somewhere outside, through the open double glass doors, I heard voices. There was another man and a woman. They were talking reasonably loudly, and she was laughing. Yet, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Glancing around, I made mental notes of everything as I needed to find my way out later.

“We’re home,” Piotr called out as we walked around the table to the door.

A blond man with shocking blue eyes and a woman with reddish-blond curly hair appeared in the doorway. I remembered the man from the parking lot. He brought the car. But out of fear and because it was dark, I didn’t bother to look at him then.

I estimated that both were a bit younger than Piotr. The man was also reasonably built and could be slightly taller than Piotr. His face was clean-shaven, highlighting his strong jawline. There were no obvious tattoos I could see. Although, he didn’t seem the type. He appeared too rigid and stern.

The woman didn’t have any visible tattoos either. She was wearing pink shorts with a black bikini top. Her curls lay over her shoulder like soft ocean waves. She scanned me up and down with her hazel eyes before stepping closer.

She held out her hand as she spoke but didn’t seem thrilled with me. “I’m Mila, nice to meet you.”

Shaking her hand, the man who had brought the car and taken the motorbike spoke up. “Konstantin, nice to see you again.” His voice was loud and more upbeat than either Piotr's or the woman's. His smile seemed more sincere than hers.

“Alyssa,” I replied, shaking his hand as well. I wasn’t pleased to be there and didn’t say so. It was an unnecessary formality if you asked me. Most people didn’t feel it but used it because society believed it was needed.

“Welcome to the home of the Ungodly Brothers. We’re an underground organization working in conjunction with the Morozov Family. The Morozov Bratva.” Piotr said.

Glancing from him to the other two, I realized I was trapped. I’ve heard of the organization and knew very well who the Morozov family was. These weren’t the type of people you messed with.

Trying to swallow the knot forming in my throat, my heart rate increased. I was in over my head, and who knew what would happen to me. If I wanted to get out of here alive, I felt sure I would have to play nice. I would conform to their wishes until I could find a way out.

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