Page 40 of Pregnant By the Bratva

“Leo,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, trying to reach the part of him that’s still rational. “This isn’t the way. You need to let me go. You need to leave before it’s too late.”

There’s no reasoning with him now. He’s too far gone, too consumed by his obsession. As he pulls me closer, his breath hot against my ear, I realize with chilling clarity that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep me here, with him.

The door remains locked, and my heart pounds with a fear I’ve never known before.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ivan

I step into the house, expecting to find the usual scene—Sarah with our daughter, maybe reading or rocking her gently in her arms. Instead, I’m greeted by an unsettling sight: the maid is holding my daughter, cooing softly as she tries to soothe her. The sight immediately puts me on edge. Sarah rarely, if ever, leaves our daughter with the maids. She’s fiercely protective, always keeping a close eye on her.

The maid looks up as I approach, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Mr. Sharov,” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Mrs. Sharov… she left a while ago. Said she was going to meet her mother.”

Her words hit me like a cold slap. I feel a knot of unease tighten in my gut. I remember the day Sarah told me about her mother—the way her voice trembled with a mix of anger and pain, the way she looked almost haunted as she spoke of the woman who had abandoned her and her brother. That memory alone is enough to tell me that nothing good can come of this meeting.

I glance at the maid, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my mind races. “Did she say where she was meeting her?”

The maid shakes her head, looking down at the baby in her arms. “No, sir. Just that she needed to go. She seemed… anxious.”

Anxious. That’s not like Sarah, especially not when it comes to something as sensitive as meeting her mother. Thelast time she mentioned that woman, there was nothing but bitterness in her tone. If she’s gone to see her now, after all these years, it means something has pushed her to the edge.

I run a hand through my hair, the tension building in my shoulders. This isn’t sitting right with me. Sarah wouldn’t leave without a good reason, and the thought of her being out there alone, possibly walking into some sort of trap, doesn’t sit well with me at all.

The maid watches me closely, sensing my concern. “Should I do anything, sir?” she asks, her voice cautious.

“No,” I reply, my tone clipped. “Just keep an eye on the baby. I’ll handle this.”

I turn and stride out of the room, my mind already racing with possibilities. There’s no way I’m letting Sarah face whatever this is on her own. I pull out my phone and quickly dial one of my contacts, my mind set on finding her, on bringing her back where she belongs—safe, with me.

As I wait for the call to connect, I think about the last time we talked about her mother, about the pain that was still fresh in her eyes, even after all these years. There’s no way this meeting is going to end well, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

The unease gnaws at me, sharper with each passing second. I push through the front door and find Artem waiting by the car, his expression immediately shifting to alertness as he sees the tension in my stance.

“Artem,” I snap, my voice leaving no room for delay, “we need to move. Now.”

He doesn’t ask questions, just opens the car door, ready to drive wherever I command. I’m already dialing Maxim as I slide into the passenger seat, the engine roaring to life beneath us. The call connects, and Maxim’s familiar voice comes through, calm but laced with the readiness for action.

“Boss?”

“Maxim, I need you to find the location of Sarah’s old house. Her mother’s place,” I bark into the phone, my gaze locked on the road ahead as Artem speeds down the driveway. “Sarah went to meet her mother. Something’s not right.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, the sound of keys clicking in the background as Maxim pulls up the information. “Got it,” he says after a moment, his voice steady. “Her mother lives on the outskirts of the city, a rundown neighborhood. I’m sending you the address now.”

My phone buzzes with the incoming text, and I glance down to see the location pin drop onto the map. It’s exactly the kind of place I would expect—a far cry from the life Sarah has built, filled with the ghosts of a past she’s tried to leave behind.

“Get there as fast as you can,” I order, my tone brooking no argument. “Call for backup. I don’t know what we’re walking into, but I want us covered from every angle.”

“Already on it,” Maxim replies, and I can hear the faint sound of him relaying orders to our men in the background. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”

I end the call, my mind racing as I process the situation. This isn’t just about Sarah’s mother. There’s more to this, something lurking beneath the surface, and I can’t afford to underestimate it. If Sarah’s mother has any connection to thepeople we’ve crossed—or worse, if someone has coerced her into this—then Sarah could be in serious danger.

Artem doesn’t need any prompting to push the car faster, weaving through traffic with precision. My pulse thrums with a mix of fear and anger, each second stretching out, the urgency in the air thickening as we draw closer to the address.

My thoughts keep circling back to Sarah, to the look on her face when she talked about her mother, the pain that still lingered in her eyes. I won’t let that pain be the last thing she feels. I won’t let her be hurt again—not by her past, not by anyone.

The car screeches to a halt in front of the dilapidated house, and I’m out of the vehicle before it even fully stops. The place looks exactly how I imagined—run-down, forgotten, and filled with the ghosts of Sarah’s past. My heart pounds with a ferocity that I haven’t felt in a long time, my every instinct screaming at me to get inside, to find her, to protect her.

Artem follows close behind as I approach the door, his hand already on his weapon, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. I don’t bother with subtlety. There’s no time for that. I kick the door open with a force that sends it slamming against the wall, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit house.

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