Page 59 of Captured By the Bratva

He releases my hand, his expression transforming back into a cold, controlled mask as he steps out, closing the door firmly behind him.

The echo of the alarm fades away, leaving nothing but an eerie silence hanging in the air.

42

IVAN

Cars grind to a halt outside the compound, tires screeching as they line up like an army ready for battle. Men in dark suits spill out, guns drawn, faces hard with intent.

I feel the familiar adrenaline kick in, my focus sharpening. My men form up beside me, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed. Each one knows what’s coming; they don’t hesitate, don’t question. The sound of guns loading fills the tense silence. We’ve trained for this. We’re all prepared.

My grip tightens on my own weapon as I scan the scene. Jimmy’s men are well-armed, but they’re not ready for what they’re about to face. This is my home, my ground, and I protect what’s mine. I won’t lose here.

A familiar figure steps out of one of the cars, flanked by his own entourage. Jimmy. He stands there, smug and relaxed, as if he’s already won. His voice carries across the courtyard, dripping with false diplomacy. “This doesn’t need to be a war, Ivan. Hand Cathy over, and no blood needs to be shed.”

“You made it a war when you hurt Nik.”

“She belongs to me. Give her back. Now.”

The rage that’s been simmering inside me ignites. The thought of him even getting close to Cathy sends a dark pulse through me. I steady my weapon, my voice cold and unyielding. “Over my dead body.”

Jimmy’s smile sharpens, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Suits me,” he replies smoothly.

The signal is given. His men raise their guns. I give my own signal, and in the next heartbeat, chaos erupts.

Gunfire tears through the courtyard, bullets zipping past me and ricocheting off stone. My men and I move as one, our line unwavering as we fire back, closing ranks to protect the house.

I dart behind a column, take a quick shot, then shift, moving smoothly from one piece of cover to another, picking off Jimmy’s men with deadly precision. My aim is steady, my focus absolute—there’s no room for mistakes.

One of his men falls, then another. The ground is littered with shells and dust, a heavy cloud settling over the scene as the smell of gunpowder thickens the air.

But this isn’t enough; Jimmy is still out there, lurking, and every instinct in me is set on one thing: reaching him before he reaches Cathy.

The fight pushes gradually inward, into the mansion’s grand entryway, bullets ripping through walls, shattering chandeliers, and splintering furniture.

The house feels alive, echoing with every shot, each impact magnifying the intensity. Dust and smoke hang like a fog, but my movements are calculated, sharp. I’ve fought through worse, and I know every corner, every hallway here. This is my ground.

I catch a flash of movement by the staircase—one of Jimmy’s men, gun raised, zeroing in on Anya, who’s cornered near a doorway. They rush her and she screams. I don’t think. I aim, and the shot rings out, swift and precise.

A man falls, his weapon clattering against the marble floor. Anya’s eyes meet mine, wide with relief, as the others rush back into the shadows.

My mind locks back onto my objective. I can’t let Jimmy slip past. I advance through the haze, leaving a trail of his men downed in my wake, each one a step closer to him.

My instincts cry out. He’s going for Cathy. I sprint for her room. The attack on Anya was a feint. They got the keys from her in the chaos.

The moment I burst into Cathy’s room, the tension hits me like a wall. Jimmy stands there, his face twisted in fury, a predator closing in on his prey.

My gun is leveled at him, finger ready on the trigger, but Cathy steps forward, her hand raised in a silent command for me to wait. Her expression is fearless, defiant, with a steel I haven’t seen before.

“Wait,” she says, her voice carrying across the room, steady and unyielding.

I pause, my eyes narrowing, but there’s something in her stance, a calm confidence. Respect flickers in me, though every protective instinct screams for me to end this myself. Cathy steps closer to Jimmy, facing him with her chin held high, the fire in her gaze unwavering.

“I’m not under your control anymore, Jimmy,” she tells him, her tone cutting like glass. “You kill me, you get nothing. I’m not afraid of you.”

Jimmy’s lip curls, sneering with contempt. “Look at you,” he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. “Acting like you’re something special. Don’t flatter yourself, Cathy. You’re nothing but a naive little girl. Do you think anyone would want you for anything but your money? You’re not exactly a prize.”

I see Cathy’s jaw clench, her fists tight at her sides, but she doesn’t back down. The insult doesn’t rattle her. Instead, hervoice only grows colder, more certain. “I’d rather die than go anywhere with you again, Jimmy. You get nothing. Leave and you might get to live.”

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