Page 12 of Captured By the Bratva

My gaze flickers to his lips, searching for even a hint of a smirk, but they remain firm, unyielding. I feel a rush of heat crawl up my neck, followed by a shiver that makes my skin prickle.

“You’re... serious?” My voice trembles. I take a step back, bumping into the edge of the bookcase behind me. The sharp contact jars me, but it doesn’t snap me out of the surreal haze.

“Deadly serious,” he replies, his voice low and deliberate, like the final toll of a bell. The glint in his eyes sharpens, amusement giving way to something darker. Something absolute.

A nervous laugh escapes me, brittle and foreign. “You’re out of your mind,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears, drowning out reason.

My stomach churns, a sick cocktail of fear and disbelief tangling with something I don’t dare name. Something that feels a lot like the pull of gravity when you’re too close to the edge.

His lips quirk ever so slightly—not a smile, but a promise. “Quite the opposite.”

My heart slams against my ribcage, a frantic, caged thing. The room feels too small, his presence expanding, swallowing the air. I turn, dashing toward the door, desperate to escape the suffocating pull of his gaze. The smooth wood beneath my fingertips feels cool and solid, a lifeline against the chaos swirling inside me.

Before I can even twist the handle, his voice cuts through the air, cold and calm, stopping me in my tracks. “The doors are locked, Cathy. I told you, no one leaves without my permission.”

A chill courses through me, his words sinking in like ice. I glance over my shoulder, breathless, and meet his gaze. His face is composed, almost amused, as if he’d anticipated my reaction all along.

His eyes hold a quiet menace, a dark certainty that sends a fresh wave of fear pulsing through me. The realization that I’m truly trapped with him is like a vise tightening around my chest, my breaths coming shallow and quick.

“I’m head of the Bratva,” he says, his voice smooth and unwavering. “I take what I want, and I want you. For your part, you will soon come to see that you can’t resist me. Why fight the inevitable? You will marry me and give me an heir. I will give you the one thing you want more than anything else.”

His words wrap around me like chains, each one tugging at the last remnants of my resistance, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“What do I want?” I ask, my voice trembling.

As I turn back to face him, his dark smile spreads, a gleam of satisfaction lighting his eyes.

“The truth.”

He steps back from me, the shadows swallowing him, cloaking him in an aura of quiet, commanding power as he fades into the darkness.

“Welcome to your new home.”

7

IVAN

Her defiance amuses me. I see her chest rising and falling, anger flashing in her eyes as she backs away until she’s leaning on the locked door, not yielding an inch. She’s no clue how dangerous I am, how many I’ve killed.

So many men have begged for their lives at my feet. None would ever attempt to defy me this way.

There’s a fire in her that I hadn’t fully expected, and while it’s foolish on her part, it’s also intriguing. She isn’t like the others I’ve dealt with—so compliant, eager to please, willing to fold under the slightest weight of my will. They’re no sport at all.

Cathy stands there, injured and cornered, her pride refusing to let her submit. I feel a small tug of satisfaction watching her, knowing the power I have over her, over everyone, the power of life and death. The power of a God.

She moves with a slight limp, and I catch myself cursing Jimmy again for what he did to her.

The son of a bitch threw her from the car. Then he stopped and was about to do what? Load her back in and take her home? Pretend it was all her fault?

Whatever it was, his plans changed when he saw me. One hint of recognition in his eyes and he was gone.

I should have gone after him, ended this once and for all. But she would have died left alone in the street like that. I made a decision. I put revenge aside for her. Wondering why has filled my nights ever since.

Now she’s here, and I’m starting to get answers. It’s because of her innocence. That wounded animal look she gave me when she looked up at me that night. Whenever my father struck our guard dogs they’d give him the same look. That ‘What did I do wrong?’ look.

He threw her out of his car and she thought it was her fault. He sure did a number on her, same as on Elena.

“I want to leave,” she says, her voice firm but just short of a demand.

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