Page 85 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

I will just walk away from this whole thing, quietly accepting whatever is…just is.

And I’ll find some way to move on.

But at least I learned about who I am, what I will and won’t accept for my life anymore. And things between me and my uncle are definitely going to change.

Chapter 22 - Alexei

My head is pounding with a heavy migraine before I even open my eyes.

What the fuck?

I roll over, onto my back, realizing I am on a bed.

Where?

What the hell happened?

What the fuck is going on?

My eyes feel so thick and stuck together that I am struggling to open them. I’m exhausted and groggy.

What…the…hell…happened?

I press my fingers against my eyelids and massage them for a moment, then slowly open them and wait for the blur to fade into actual images that I can understand.

The downstairs guest bedroom.

What in the world—

I try to sit up, but a wave of nausea hits me.

I lie back down again.

Oleg. That mother fucker. Oleg did this.

Anya and Oleg were insisting I let Clara go and I refused, and that fucking asshole did this to me…

The nausea and blurred vision are suddenly no longer my primary concern.

Clara.

Where is Clara?

I push up off the bed, woozy, almost losing my balance. How much fucking shit did that asshole drug me with?

I hold on to the wall as I hurry out in the passage.

“Clara?” I yell into the house. “Clara?”

No answer.

Nothing but silence.

On unsteady legs, I rush upstairs. All of her things are still here, but she is gone.

Oleg and Anya convinced her to go with them.

She left.

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