Page 9 of Pregnant By the Bratva

He’s tall, with dark hair and sharp features, his eyes cold and calculating. He moves with a kind of confidence that sends a chill down my spine. There’s no mistaking it—this is a man who’s used to getting what he wants. His gaze locks on to mine, and I feel a jolt of fear in my chest.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound strong.

The man steps forward, ignoring my question as he studies me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze travels over me, taking in every detail, and I feel exposed, like he’s stripping away the layers of my disguise with just a look.

“Where’s the dean?” I demand, taking a step back, my heart pounding faster. “What’s going on?”

The men exchange a glance, a silent communication that only deepens my sense of dread. The one who stands out—he must be in charge—finally speaks, his voice deep, carrying a heavy accent that confirms my worst fears.

“Miss Preston,” he says slowly, his tone laced with something dangerous, “we need to have a little chat.”

His accent is unmistakably Russian, and that one detail sets off every alarm bell in my head. Russians. The Bratva. Kace’s enemies. My blood runs cold as I realize who they are—what they are.

I try to steady my breathing, to think clearly. I can’t let them see the fear, can’t let them know they have the upper hand. It’s hard to keep calm when the walls seem to be closing in on me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm. “If you’re looking for my father, you’re wasting your time. He’s not here.”

The man’s lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. “Oh, we know where your father is. You… you’re coming with us.”

Panic flares in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap, taking another step back. “Get out of my way.”

He takes another step forward, unfazed by my attempt to assert control. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Miss Preston.”

I glance around the room, searching for something, anything that could help me. There’s nothing—no escape, no weapon, just the cold, unyielding reality that I’m trapped. My mind races, weighing my options. Running isn’t feasible—I’d never make it past them. I can’t just let them take me. I have to do something.

Without thinking, I lunge for the door, but one of the men is faster. He grabs me by the arm, his grip like iron. I twist andpull, trying to break free, but he’s too strong. Desperation fuels me as I kick out, striking him in the shin. He grunts, loosening his hold for just a second, and I use the opportunity to wrench myself away.

Before I can make it more than a few steps, the leader—he must be the leader—moves swiftly, his hand shooting out to catch me. I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist, yanking me back toward him. I stumble, trying to fight, but his grip is unrelenting.

“Let go of me!” I shout, panic rising in my throat. I struggle against him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I try to twist out of his grasp. It’s no use—he’s too strong, too practiced.

His eyes narrow as he watches my futile struggle, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something like pity in his gaze. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, calculating look.

“Enough,” he says quietly, and before I can react, he swings his free hand toward me.

Pain explodes in my head as his fist connects with my temple. The world tilts, dark spots dancing across my vision. My knees buckle, the fight draining out of me as everything goes blurry. I’m vaguely aware of the floor rushing up to meet me, the sound of my own labored breathing filling my ears.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is the man’s face, impassive and unmoved by my fear. His voice echoes in the darkness that overtakes me, the cold, clinical tone of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

“Take her.”

Chapter Five

Ivan

The news comes through as I’m pulling up to the warehouse. Maxim’s voice on the other end of the line is as calm as ever, but there’s a note of satisfaction in it that tells me everything I need to know.

“It’s done,” he says simply. “We’ve got her.”

I allow myself a grin, feeling the thrill of victory settle in my chest. Finally, the first move in our plan is complete. Sophia Preston is in our hands, and with her, the leverage we need to bring her father to his knees.

I kill the engine and step out of the car, the cold night air biting at my skin. The warehouse looms ahead, an unassuming building from the outside, but within its walls, it’s anything but. This place has seen countless deals, countless exchanges of power. Tonight, it’s the stage for the beginning of the end for the Prestons.

As I walk toward the entrance, my mind is already working through the next steps. Kace Preston’s empire is vast, but every empire has its weaknesses. Tonight, I’m holding his most precious one.

The metal door creaks as I push it open, the familiar scent of oil and cold steel filling my lungs. I take the stairs down to the basement, each step echoing in the quiet. The air grows colder as I descend, the faint hum of electricity the only sound.

I meet Maxim at the bottom of the stairs. He’s waiting for me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells me he’s pleased with himself. He knows the importance of what we’ve just done, the weight of the prize we now possess.

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