Page 1 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

Prologue - Sophia, Ten Years Ago

My mother’s heels click loudly against the pavement as we walk. I trail behind her, my heart thudding in my chest as I take in the towering mansion ahead. The gates had opened for us without a word, and now we’re headed inside, past thick walls that make me feel small, even though I’m almost as tall as her already. I don’t know where we are or why we’re here, but something in the air feels wrong. Tense. Heavy.

She hasn’t said much since we left the house, her face unreadable, set in that stern expression she wears when something serious is happening. I’m used to that look. It usually means trouble. It’s strange to be here, whereverhereis. We’ve never been anywhere this nice before, and I have no idea what business my mother has at a place like this.

We stop in front of the massive wooden doors, and before I can catch my breath, they open, revealing a tall man in a black suit. He nods at my mother without a word and gestures for us to follow. The inside of the house feels even more intimidating than the outside—large chandeliers hang from high ceilings, and the walls are lined with paintings that seem older than anything I’ve ever seen.

I try to stay quiet, to make myself as small as possible as we follow the man down a hallway. My mother walks with confidence, her back straight, her head held high, like she belongs here. I wish I had that kind of certainty.

The man leads us into an office, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the figure sitting behind an enormous desk. He’s tall, even sitting down, his presence filling the room. His dark hair is neatly combed back, and his piercing eyes focus on my mother with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. I feellike I shouldn’t be here, like I’m intruding on something I don’t understand.

My mother steps forward, her heels clicking on the marble floor before stopping in front of his desk. I stand a little behind her, keeping my gaze low.

The man looks at her, his expression unreadable. “Do I know you?” His voice is cold, controlled. There’s no warmth in it, no curiosity. Just business.

My mother’s chin lifts slightly. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as he studies her face. “Should I?”

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance, maybe. Or something else I can’t quite place. She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “We’ve met before. It was years ago. You visited my brothel.” Her voice is calm, almost too calm, like she’s rehearsed this moment over and over in her head.

My heart stutters, and I blink, my mind struggling to keep up with the words she’s saying. I glance at her, confused, but she doesn’t look at me. Her focus is entirely on the man in front of her. My stomach twists in knots. Something’s wrong.

The man leans back in his chair, his eyes sweeping over my mother’s face before flickering toward me. His gaze lingers for a second, and I feel a cold shiver run down my spine.

“Go on,” he says, his voice colder now.

My mother steps to the side, and for the first time, I realize she’s moving to put me in front of her, presenting me. “This is your daughter.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stand there, frozen, my mind scrambling to understand what’s happening.His daughter?How can that be possible?

I look up at the man, who’s now staring at me. His eyes roam over my face, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something in his expression—recognition. His jaw tightens, and he glances back at my mother.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s no conviction in his voice. It’s like he’s saying the words because he feels like he should, not because he believes them.

My mother takes a step forward, her voice steady. “Kace, she’s yours. I had no reason to find you before now, but look at her. She looks like you.”

I stand there, my whole body tense, wishing I could disappear. This can’t be true. It doesn’t make sense. I barely know anything about my father—my mother’s never talked about him—but this man? The cold, powerful figure sitting behind the desk? He’s nothing like I imagined.

The silence in the room is suffocating. The man studies me again, his eyes sharp and calculating. I can feel him dissecting every part of me, every feature, like he’s piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know he had.

“You’re saying….” He finally speaks, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You’re saying she’s mine.”

My mother nods, her gaze unyielding. “You know she is.”

For a long moment, he says nothing. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable, but I can feel the weight of his realization sinking in. He knows. The truth is written all over his face.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. “She’s the spitting image of my sister. The family always had strong genes,” he says, his voice hard with finality. There’s no question in it, no uncertainty. Just fact.

I don’t know what that means for me, but I know my life just changed forever.

The room feels impossibly still, the weight of Kace’s words sinking in like stones dropping into water. I stand there, frozen, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened—whohe just said I am. His daughter. I glance up at him, this stranger who suddenly holds the key to my entire identity, and feel a strange mix of fear and curiosity.

Kace shifts in his chair, his eyes still on me, but his expression hardens as he turns to my mother. “I’m going to offer you money. You’ll take the money,” he says, his voice cutting through the thick silence, “and in return, you’ll disappear from her life. Permanently.”

His words hit me like a slap. I blink up at my mother, my heart pounding, waiting for her to protest, to say something—anything—that would make this moment feel less like a nightmare. I want her to fight for me, to argue that she belongs in my life. Instead, her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite name—relief, maybe?—and she nods.

Just like that.

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