Page 51 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

Maxim’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cups my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him.

“I’m not a man who shows it easily,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do.”

His words send a jolt through me, and I feel my heart twist painfully in my chest. I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. Instead, I just nod, the weight of everything too much to process.

We stand there in silence for what feels like forever, his thumb gently stroking my cheek as he holds me in place. His eyes, always so guarded, seem to soften for just a moment, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

Does he feel what I’m feeling? Does he understand how confusing this all is for me?

Eventually, he pulls away, his hand slipping from my face as he takes a step back. “You need to rest,” he says quietly, his voice returning to its usual commanding tone. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Maxim pulls me closer once again, his hands steady against my trembling body, and for a brief moment, I let myself sink into the warmth of his embrace. It’s a strange feeling, this sense of comfort coming from someone I thought I should hate. Someone who kidnapped me, someone who forced me into this life.

But as his fingers trace down my arm in a soothing gesture, the world outside fades away, and I find myself gripping on to him like he’s my lifeline. My tears have slowed, but the weight of everything still lingers heavily on my chest.

“You’re safe with me now,” he murmurs, his voice a low promise that makes something inside me stir.

I want to believe him. More than anything, I want to trust that I really am safe with him, despite everything we’ve been through. The fear, the uncertainty—it clings to me like a shadow.

He steps back slightly, his hand resting on the small of my back as he guides me toward the door. “Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As we walk past Fernando’s lifeless body, I glance at Maxim, still feeling the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.

He isn’t the monster I thought he was.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Maxim

I enter the room, the weight of the day still hanging heavy on my shoulders. The door clicks shut behind me, and the low hum of the evening fills the space. Sophia steps out of the bathroom, her wet blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She’s wearing one of my shirts, the fabric clinging to her still-damp skin, and for a moment, I just watch her. The sadness in her eyes hasn’t left since the warehouse.

She’s been through hell today, killing a man for the first time. Kace kept her sheltered from the darker parts of this world, but this is the reality. The Mafia doesn’t spare anyone, not even its princess. The moment she became my wife, she stepped into my world—the Bratva world. Death, betrayal, blood—it’s all a part of the life we lead. Sooner or later, it was bound to find her.

As I look at her, I can already see it. Strength. Resilience. The edges of her innocence have been chipped away, but beneath it, something powerful is beginning to form. She’s handling it better than most would. Better than I expected. I can see the fire in her, and I like it. More than I should.

Her eyes meet mine as I step farther into the room, and I can see the question lingering in them—the weight of everything we both haven’t said. I cross the room, stopping a few feet from her, and for a moment, we just stand there, the silence heavy between us.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice quieter than usual.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze lowering to the floor. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I keep thinking about… about him. That man. I never thought I’d be capable of something like that.”

I nod, stepping closer to her. “You did what you had to do. It wasn’t your choice—it was his. You fought back. And you survived. That’s all that matters.”

She looks up at me, her eyes soft and vulnerable in a way that tugs at something deep inside me. “I still took a life, Maxim. How do you live with that?”

I pause, letting the question hang in the air. It’s not an easy answer. There’s no simple way to explain the way this world hardens you over time, how each kill becomes a little easier, a little more justified in your mind. She’s not ready for that truth yet.

“You don’t,” I say finally. “You never fully live with it. You just learn to survive. To protect the ones you care about. And sometimes, that means getting your hands bloody.”

She bites her lip, processing my words, and I can see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. There’s still something else weighing on her. Something more.

I take a deep breath, knowing this conversation is far from over. There’s something I need to address—something that’s been lingering between us since the moment she walked in on Hailey. The last thing I want is to give Sophia any reason to doubt me.

“About Hailey,” I begin, my tone serious. “I need to explain.”

Sophia’s eyes flicker with uncertainty, and I step closer, holding her gaze.

“Hailey and I….” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “We had a fling in the past. It wasn’t serious. It never was. She came to my office today because she wanted something from me, but I’m not interested in her anymore.”

Sophia doesn’t say anything, but I can see the doubt in her eyes, the shadow of jealousy that still lingers.

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