Page 60 of Captured By the Bratva

I catch a subtle movement at her side, and my gaze shifts to the small pistol concealed in her hand. She’s holding it with a confidence that surprises me, her knuckles white around the handle. But Jimmy doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on his own fury, too blinded by his need for control.

“Money’s the only reason anyone could ever stand you,” he spits, stepping closer, his eyes glinting with malice. “You think you’re brave, Cathy? You think you’re better than me? You’re still just the pathetic little nobody I should have left behind.”

The room feels charged, every nerve in me ready to move, to strike. But before I can react, Cathy’s hand tightens around the gun, her stance unwavering.

Jimmy finally notices the gun in her grip, and his face contorts with rage. “You think you’re tough now, holding a weapon?” He lunges forward, hands outstretched, intent on taking her down. “I know you won’t do it. You’re a weak, pathetic piece of shit and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Time seems to slow. I could shoot him. This is my chance.

I have faith in her. She doesn’t flinch. With a fierce, determined look, she lifts the pistol, her movements calm, precise. The shot rings out in the room, sharp and final.

Jimmy stumbles back, clutching his chest, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. His hands shake as he looks down, his fingers covered in his own blood. He staggers, his breaths shallow, as if trying to understand how he ended up on the other end of her fury.

His voice is a choked whisper, fading, barely audible. “You… you really…”

But Cathy doesn’t lower her gaze. She stands strong, watching him without a trace of fear, and I see the unspokenstrength in her posture, the triumph in her silence. This is Cathy taking back her power, her life.

Jimmy’s knees give way, and he collapses to the floor, his face a mixture of terror and regret as he draws his last breath.

The life fades from his eyes, leaving him still, motionless—a man who once held so much power over her, now nothing more than a broken figure on the ground.

I step forward, my eyes still on Cathy. She stands there, gun lowered, her breathing steady, shoulders squared. I see the strength she’s found within herself, the resilience that’s brought her here.

Her gaze finally shifts to me, her expression softening, and I reach for her, pulling her close. She leans into my embrace, her hand gripping my shirt tightly.

“I underestimated you,” I murmur, the weight of my words hanging in the air. “I thought you needed protecting, that you’d break if you had to face him alone. But you’re stronger than I ever gave you credit for.” My fingers tighten gently on her arms, unable to mask the pride and awe I feel.

Her eyes soften, and despite everything, there’s warmth in her gaze. “You wanted me safe,” she whispers, her voice a bit unsteady but resolute. “But I needed to prove to myself that I could face him… that I wasn’t powerless anymore. Thank you, Ivan—for letting me do that.” She places her hand over mine. “I know that was hard for you.”

I nod, my chest tightening as I look at her. “You’ve proven yourself a Bratva queen,” I say, my voice filled with a respect I rarely extend to anyone. “I see that now. You’ve more than earned your place as my wife.”

Her gaze drifts down to Jimmy’s lifeless body, still lying cold and unmoving on the floor. A shadow of doubt crosses her face. “What am I supposed to do now?” she whispers, almost to herself. “I’ve killed a man, Ivan.”

I place a steady hand on her shoulder, watching her closely. “Killed who?” I ask, letting a faint smirk tug at my lips. She looks up at me, confusion flickering in her expression, and I nod to my men, who are already moving in to remove Jimmy’s body.

Turning back to Cathy, I add, “He was never here. Twenty witnesses will swear he’s been in Chicago the last two months.”

She stares at me, the realization settling in. This world may be dark and dangerous, but I will shield her from it with everything I have. Whatever she’s done, whatever weight she thinks she has to carry, I’ll bear it with her.

Once Jimmy’s body is gone, a quiet falls between us. I loosen my grip on her arms, taking a half step back, though every instinct tells me to keep her close. My voice softens. “You’re free now, Cathy. Free to leave or stay. The choice is yours.”

Her eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

I hold her gaze, willing her to see everything I feel. “No more control, no more ties, nothing holding you here but what you choose,” I say. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. You’ve earned that choice and you’ve got enough money to make it in this world. But if you stay, we raise our child together. What do you want to do?”

43

CATHY

Istep into my old apartment, and it feels smaller, as though the walls have inched closer together since I last stood here.

I pause, letting the quiet fill my ears, eyes roving over the details of my life laid out in carefully placed furniture and knick-knacks that, once upon a time, I thought would make me feel at home.

A vase sits on the windowsill, wilted petals curled sadly in its mouth, remnants of some forgotten attempt to bring life into this space. I walk over and lift it, the brittle leaves scattering, and I realize how fragile this place, and my time here, has been.

Ivan was right. Jimmy hasn’t been back here. None of my things have been destroyed. Not a single one.

I have enough money to live anywhere, do anything.

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