Page 30 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, taking a step back as if trying to escape the truth. “That’s not possible.”

Kristen steps toward me, his expression filled with sympathy. “It’s true. He passed away early this morning. I came here on his behalf. I would have said so earlier, but… you understand this makes us vulnerable.”

I feel like the ground has fallen out from under me. My body trembles, the knot in my throat tightening until I can’t hold it back anymore. I break down, the tears streaming down my face as I collapse to my knees.

My father is gone. The man who—despite all his faults—was still the one person who had been there for me. The one person I thought would never leave me. And now, he’s just… gone. The grief hits me like a wave, suffocating, relentless.

I barely hear the men around me, but their voices cut through the haze of my sorrow.

“Dead that quickly? Seems convenient,” one of Maxim’s men scoffs.

Another one steps forward, pulling out his phone to fact-check the news. After a few moments, he looks up, confirming what Kristen said. “It’s true, Boss. Kace Preston’s dead.”

Maxim grunts, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t seem surprised, but there’s an air of disappointment around him. He steps toward me, his presence looming, but I’m too consumed by my grief to care.

“I wanted him alive,” Maxim mutters, his voice low, almost to himself. “Wanted him to watch this all fall apart.” He exhales, clearly irritated by the change of plans.

Kristen kneels beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Please,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Let me take her to her father’s funeral. She needs to be there.”

Maxim’s eyes flash with something—annoyance, maybe even sympathy—but it’s quickly replaced with that cold, detached look he always wears. He doesn’t respond immediately, turning his attention to his men instead.

Before he can speak, the roar of an engine cuts through the air, and a car pulls up. The door opens, and Timur steps out, striding toward us with purpose.

Maxim raises an eyebrow, his irritation shifting to curiosity. “What is it?” he asks, his voice sharp, clearly frustrated by the interruption.

Timur’s face is serious, and as he gets closer, he glances down at me briefly before turning his attention to Maxim. “I have some news,” he says, his tone grim.

Maxim sighs, his fingers flexing as if he’s holding back his temper. “What now?” he mutters.

Timur leans in closer, speaking quietly to Maxim, though I catch fragments of their conversation. Something about… plans. About Kace. About timing. I can’t focus, not with the overwhelming grief crushing me from all sides, but I sense the shift in the atmosphere.

Maxim’s expression hardens as Timur continues, and whatever Timur’s saying, it’s serious. I can see the tension rising between them, but I’m too numb, too broken, to make sense of it.

All I know is that my father is gone.

Maxim turns to Artem and Timur, his expression unreadable, then jerks his head toward the car. Their voices break me from my stupor.

“We need to talk,” he says curtly, his voice laced with irritation. “Kristen, you’re coming with us.”

Kristen hesitates, glancing at me, and I feel a surge of panic. They’re going to talk, make decisions about me and my future, and I’m being left in the dark. I push myself up from theground, wiping my tear-streaked face. “I have a right to know what’s going on,” I snap, my voice stronger than I expected.

Maxim stops in his tracks, turning slowly toward me. His eyes are cold, hard, and his patience is clearly wearing thin. “No, you don’t,” he says sharply, stepping closer. “You’re staying in the car. This isn’t your concern.”

“I am the concern!” I argue, feeling my frustration and anger bubble to the surface. “You’re making decisions about my life, about my father’s—”

“Enough!” Maxim cuts me off, his voice booming as he towers over me, his presence suffocating. His eyes bore into mine, and for a second, I feel the weight of his fury pressing down on me like a physical force. “Get in the car, now.”

I freeze, my heart racing. The sheer force of his anger silences me, and though every part of me wants to fight back, wants to demand answers, I know I can’t win this battle. Not here, not now.

With trembling hands, I turn away and walk toward the car, swallowing the bitter taste of defeat. Two of Maxim’s men stand by the doors, their faces blank, not even acknowledging me as I climb in. They follow me inside, sitting in silence, their expressions impassive as if none of this matters to them.

I sit there, my body stiff with tension, watching through the window as Maxim, Artem, and Timur lead Kristen into a nearby office. The door closes behind them, and I’m left alone with the two guards, who say nothing. The only sound is the ticking of the car’s engine cooling down.

I hate this. Being shut out. Being treated like I’m just another pawn in their game. My father is dead, and I deserve toknow what’s happening next, but all I can do is sit here, waiting for them to decide my fate.

The minutes drag on, and through the windshield, I see Maxim’s men still stationed around the area, weapons at the ready. The car feels like a prison, and the silence is suffocating, but I can’t escape it. Not yet.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, the office door swings open. Maxim steps out first, his expression hard but focused. They’ve made their decision. I just don’t know what it is yet.

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