Page 18 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

“What… what are you doing?” My voice is barely a whisper, the words slurring together as I try to fight the darkness creeping in.

Artem’s face hovers above me, his grin still in place, though now it looks more like a predator’s smile. Cold. Calculating. “It’ll be over soon, Sophia,” he says, his voice distant, like it’s coming from the other end of a tunnel. “Just relax. You’re not going to remember any of this.”

I try to scream again, to thrash, to fight, but my body is failing me. The warmth spreads faster, dragging me down into a thick fog. My knees give out, and I collapse into his arms. The world spins, the sounds around me growing fainter, distant. I can hear my heartbeat, pounding erratically in my ears, but even that begins to fade, drowned out by the thick blanket of unconsciousness.

I reach out, my fingers barely brushing the gravel beneath me as I slip further into the darkness. Artem’s grip tightens as he lowers me to the ground, his voice now nothing more than a murmur as he says something I can’t fully hear.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is his face, calm and unmoved, as if this was just another day. Just another task. Then, there’s nothing. No sound, no light. Just silence.

Chapter Nine - Maxim

The door creaks as I push it open, stepping into the dark bedroom with Artem following close behind. The only light comes from a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long, eerie shadows across the cold concrete floor. My eyes settle on the figure lying unconscious in the middle of the bed—Sophia. She’s sprawled out in her gym clothes, looking small and fragile against the harsh backdrop of this place.

Artem walks over to a corner, his heavy boots echoing in the silence, while I stand there for a moment, watching her. She’s beginning to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly regains consciousness. My jaw tightens. This is Kace Preston’s daughter—his blood, his legacy—and yet, looking at her now, I see none of him. She’s different. Innocent, even.

It pisses me off.

Sophia groans softly, her body shifting as she comes to. She blinks, confused, her hand weakly pressing against the cold floor as she tries to sit up. When her eyes finally focus, they land on me. The fear in them is immediate, a flicker of terror that grows as she takes in her surroundings.

“W-where am I?” she stammers, her voice shaky. Her gaze darts between me and Artem, who stands calmly by the door, arms crossed, watching. “Why… why are you doing this?”

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at her. Why? The question gnaws at me because the truth is right in front of her, but she looks so clueless. So unaware of the world her father has created. She’s nothing like him—at least, not outwardly. That doesn’t change what she is.

“This is because of your father,” I say, my voice cold, clipped. The edge in my tone is sharp, sharper than I intended. Itake a step closer, towering over her as she looks up at me with wide, fearful eyes.

Her lips tremble. “My father? What does he have to do with this?”

A surge of anger courses through me. How can she be this naive? How can she not know? Kace Preston is responsible for my father’s death, for countless others, and yet here’s his daughter—sitting on the cold floor, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes, as if she has nothing to do with any of it.

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I kneel down, bringing myself to her level. “He’s done more than you can imagine,” I say, my voice low and hard. “You—you’re going to be the key to ruining him. To making him pay.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and she shakes her head, her voice breaking. “No… please. Whatever he did, I don’t know anything about it. He’s my father. I… I love him.”

I scoff, my patience thinning. “You love him? Do you even know the kind of man he is? The things he’s done?” I lean in closer, my face inches from hers. “Your father is responsible for my father’s murder. For that, I’ll destroy him. I’ll take everything from him.”

Sophia’s sobs fill the room, her shoulders shaking as she cries. Her tears, the raw emotion—it stirs something in me, a flash of irritation. She’s making this harder than it needs to be, yet I can’t ignore the way she clings to the idea of her father, even though he’s a monster. It’s almost pathetic. Almost admirable.

“What should we do with her once we’re done with Kace?” Artem asks from behind me, a twisted grin playing on his lips. He’s enjoying this, watching her crumble.

I don’t answer right away, my gaze still locked on Sophia as she falls apart in front of me. Her sobs grow quieter, but they don’t stop. She’s thinking about her father—about losing him. I can see it in her eyes. Despite everything Kace is, she still loves him. That love, that loyalty, disgusts me. It’s the same loyalty that destroyed my family.

I rise to my feet, stepping back from her. “She’ll die before Kace,” I say, my voice void of emotion. “He’ll suffer, knowing that his daughter is dead because of his actions. He’ll live long enough to feel the weight of that misery. That will be his punishment.”

Sophia lets out a small gasp, her tear-filled eyes widening as my words sink in. She shakes her head, her voice hoarse. “No, please… don’t….”

I ignore her. Her fate is sealed, and so is Kace’s. They’ll both pay, one after the other.

Artem crosses his arms, his grin fading into a more serious expression as he watches me. “Cruel, but effective,” he says with a nod, clearly satisfied with my decision.

Sophia’s sobs continue, filling the room with a quiet, desperate plea. It’s a pitiful sound, but it won’t change anything. Not now.

She’s no longer the princess of the Preston empire; she’s a pawn, and I’ll use her to end Kace once and for all. As I reach for the door, her voice cuts through her tears, surprising me.

“My father is not weak,” she blurts out, her tone trembling but defiant. “He won’t let all of this happen. He’ll find me, and when he does, you’ll regret this.”

I stop, my hand resting on the doorknob. Slowly, I turn to face her, her tear-streaked face a mixture of fear anddesperation. Despite everything I’ve said, she’s still holding on to some fantasy that her father will swoop in and save her. Pathetic.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” I take a step closer, the cold, hard truth forming on my tongue. “That your father is some invincible man who’s going to save you?”

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