Page 20 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

“Don’t worry,” I reply, my voice steady. “She’s not going anywhere. I’ll keep her under control. By the time Kace realizeswhat’s happening, it’ll be too late for him to do anything about it.”

Ivan’s pleased silence on the other end speaks volumes. He’s a man who values loyalty, who knows how to appreciate a job well done. “Keep me updated,” he says finally. “Once Kace starts to squirm, I want to know. This will be the beginning of the end for him.”

We end the call, and I lean back, staring at the ceiling. The satisfaction of knowing that I’m closing in on Kace is like a fire in my veins, burning hotter with every step I take. Arlo’s death has haunted me for months, gnawed at me in ways I didn’t expect. Now I can see the finish line. I can see Kace losing everything, feeling the pain of losing his daughter before I finish him off.

I’ve waited for this. I’ll savor every moment of it when it finally comes.

Chapter Ten - Sophia

I sit with my back pressed against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest as my mind spins. My thoughts are a tangled mess of confusion, anger, and betrayal. Every word Maxim said runs through my head on repeat, like a cruel soundtrack I can’t escape. Worst of all, I remember him, Iknowhe was that guy I bumped into before.

This whole thing has been a setup from the start, how long has he been watching me?

More to the point, was my father really setting me up with a murderer? Was he that desperate, that reckless?

It doesn’t seem possible, yet the pieces are starting to fall into place in a way that’s too painful to ignore.

Kace Preston, my father—the man who raised me, who always told me I was his little princess, someone he would protect—was ready to hand me over to Jackson Miller like I was some piece of property. Not only that, but Jackson wasn’t just some businessman with a bad attitude. He was a man with blood on his hands, a murderer who bought his way out of trouble. The thought makes my stomach turn. How could my father do this to me?

It’s like I’m realizing for the first time that I’ve been nothing more than a pawn in his game. My mother handed me over to him when I was twelve, like some kind of business transaction. I was a tool, someone he could use to solidify alliances, to get money, support, whatever he needed to survive in this world. Kace didn’t love me—he never did. He just… owned me.

Tears burn the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Crying doesn’t change anything. It won’t make this nightmaredisappear. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fight the rising tide of emotions threatening to choke me.

And then there’s Maxim. A fresh wave of anger surges through me at the thought of him. He’s the one who shattered whatever illusion I had left about my father, and now, I’m nothing more than a prisoner under his watch.

Maxim Sharov.

The name alone sends a chill through me. The way he looked at me, like he could see right through me, like he knew every vulnerable part of me and enjoyed tearing me apart. I hate him for it. I hate how powerless he made me feel, how he stripped away everything in a few cold, calculated words.

He scares me. I can’t help it. His presence alone fills me with a sense of dread that I’ve never known before. But it’s more than fear. It’s the feeling of being trapped—trapped in his game, trapped by his revenge. I’m just another pawn, caught between my father’s sins and Maxim’s need for justice. I feel like a lamb in a den of wolves, waiting for the inevitable.

I shake my head, refusing to accept this. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to decide my fate. There has to be a way out. I glance around the room, searching for something, anything that could help me escape. I don’t care where I go, as long as it’s away from here, away from this nightmare.

My eyes drop to my ankle, and that’s when I notice it for the first time—a small, sleek metal anklet locked around my leg. My heart sinks as I touch it, the cool metal pressing against my skin. A tracking device. Of course.

Maxim is smarter than I gave him credit for. He’ll know wherever I go. There’s no way I can slip out unnoticed. Not with this thing on.

I stare at the anklet, feeling the weight of hopelessness settle over me like a heavy blanket. How did I not notice this earlier? The moment they brought me here, they ensured I wouldn’t be able to leave. I close my eyes, pressing my head back against the wall, frustration boiling inside me. I’m not even allowed to try. I’m trapped, physically and mentally. Maxim made sure of that.

Even with the device on my ankle, I know I have to try. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to use me, to destroy my life the way they’ve destroyed so many others. My father may have sold me off like some sheep, but I’m not going to just let them lead me to slaughter.

I stand up slowly, my legs weak from sitting on the cold floor for so long. My heart is pounding in my chest, but I push the fear aside. Fear won’t get me out of here. I need to think. I need a plan.

The first step is finding out how far I can get before they track me down. If I can create some kind of diversion, maybe buy myself enough time to at least get a head start, I might have a chance. I don’t know where I’ll go, but anywhere is better than being here—trapped under Maxim’s control, waiting for him to decide when my usefulness runs out.

I walk toward the door, my hand trembling as I reach for the knob. I can’t let them see me sweat. I have to act normal, like I’m resigned to my fate. The moment I get the chance, I’ll run. I’ll fight, if I have to. I refuse to be a prisoner any longer.

As I turn the knob, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever’s coming. I know it won’t be easy, and I know the odds are stacked against me. I have to try. I won’t let them win.

I won’t let Maxim destroy me.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching outside the door. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, my eyes darting toward the sound. The door opens, and Artem steps inside, carrying a tray of food. He’s tall, muscular, but his demeanor is different from Maxim’s. He doesn’t have that same cruel edge. Instead, his face is blank, almost businesslike, as he sets the tray on the small table in the corner of the room.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, his voice low but calm.

I don’t answer, just stare at him warily, my stomach twisting with unease. I’m not hungry. I’m terrified. The thought of eating makes me feel sick, and the sight of the food is just another reminder of how trapped I am. I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Artem looks at me, then down at the untouched tray. He sighs. “It’s not poisoned, you know.”

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