Page 40 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

“What does she want this time?” Timur asks as we step into the hallway, his voice casual, but I can tell he’s curious.

“She always wants something,” I reply, my tone clipped. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”

Artem smirks, clearly amused by the situation. “She must’ve been quite the distraction at some point if she’s still calling.”

“She was,” I admit, a tinge of annoyance creeping into my voice. Hailey was fun for a while, but she started to get clingy, demanding more than I was willing to give. Now, she’s just a distraction—one I can’t afford.

“Cut her loose,” Timur says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You’ve got enough on your plate already. Fernando’s going to take every ounce of focus we have.”

“I know,” I mutter, my jaw tightening. He’s right, of course. The last thing I need is Hailey complicating things when I’m trying to take down one of the most dangerous men in the Mafia.

I glance back at my phone, wondering if she’ll call again. She always does.

“Leave it for now,” I say, dismissing the thought. “We’ve got more important business.”

Artem and Timur exchange a look but don’t press further. They know better than to question me when I’ve made up my mind.

We make our way out of the building, the cool evening air hitting me as we step outside. The sky is dark, the city lights flickering like stars in the distance. I pull out a cigarette and light it, the familiar burn of smoke filling my lungs as I take a deep drag.

Fernando’s days are numbered. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes just how badly he’s fucked up. When he does, it’ll be too late.

“You really think Fernando’s going to show his face at this gala?” Artem asks, breaking the silence.

I nod, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “He loves to flaunt his power. He’ll be there. He won’t be able to resist.”

“Good,” Timur says, his tone cold. “I want to see the look on his face when he realizes what’s coming.”

I smirk, the image of Fernando’s smug expression turning to panic flashing in my mind. “You will.”

The next few days will be crucial. Every detail has to be perfect. Every move has to be calculated. Fernando won’t see us coming until it’s too late.

“I’ll have everything ready,” Artem says, his voice filled with confidence. “Fernando’s downfall is going to be something to remember.”

“It better be,” I reply, crushing the cigarette beneath my boot as I flick it to the ground. “Because once we take him down, there’s no turning back.”

Timur grins, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “We’ll make sure it’s a clean hit. One that sends a message to anyone else who thinks they can cross us.”

I nod, my mind already racing through the plan. Fernando’s death will shake the underworld to its core, and when the dust settles, the Russians and Americans will be stronger than ever.

I’ll be the one holding all the cards.

As we walk to the car, my phone vibrates again in my pocket. Another call from Hailey. I ignore it, my focus now entirely on what’s to come. Fernando won’t know what hit him, and once he’s gone, I’ll deal with every other loose end—including Hailey.

For now, all I need to do is stay the course.

Because power isn’t just about control.

It’s about making sure everyone knows exactly who holds it.

Chapter Twenty - Sophia

I wander around the mansion, my steps aimless as my mind drifts back to the thoughts that seem to consume me more and more lately—my father, the wedding, this life I’ve been forced into. There’s a heaviness in my chest that hasn’t lifted since his death. I still can’t believe he’s gone, that I’ll never hear his voice again. Marrying Maxim was the only way to secure the future of the American Mafia and avenge my father, but sometimes, it feels like I’ve lost myself in the process.

As I continue walking, I find myself in an unfamiliar part of the estate. I push open a door, and it leads to a hidden garden, tucked away behind high walls and overgrown hedges. The air smells faintly of damp earth and wilting leaves. I step in, surprised by what I find—a neglected sanctuary, the once-beautiful plants now drying out and shriveling from lack of care.

My heart aches at the sight of it. I always had a passion for gardening, something that felt like my own little escape from the chaos of life. In college, I was heavily involved in environmental conservation efforts and even participated in a few NGOs. It was the one place where I felt like I could make a real difference. Seeing this garden like this—it feels like a reflection of my own life, withering away, ignored and forgotten.

I kneel beside one of the dying plants, running my fingers over its brittle leaves. “You’re not getting the right nutrition,” I murmur to the plant, frowning as I examine the soil. It’s too dry, too compact. These plants need water, care—life.

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