Page 12 of Virgin Bratva Prisoner

It hits my skin with a cold blast that helps to push my thoughts out of my head for a moment. I take in a long, slow breath, enjoying the crisp coolness of it. The club was so smokey from the dance floor I didn’t actually realize how much I just needed a breath of fresh air.

“Oh, it’s cold,” Jenna complains, rubbing her hands over her arms.

“I rather like it,” I reply.

“Oh, you’re one of those weirdos who likes the winter more than the summer.”

I laugh. “No, I like them both. But the fresh cool air does wake you up nicely and clear your head.”

“Ok, well, I don’t want my head cleared. I want to dance more.” She laughs, “Where did you park?”

“It’s around that corner. You guys don’t have to walk me. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be silly. Our Uber is still going to be a while so we will definitely walk you.”

We all chat as we make our way towards my car. I really like all of them. They are great people and it makes me excited again for the year ahead. We’re going to have so many stories after we graduate.

I pull my car door open. “This is me guys. Thanks so much.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. We can go for a coffee and chat about our schedules,” Jenna says, then pulls me close to hug me goodbye.

I say goodbye to Blake and Matthew as well, then climb into my car and pull the door closed behind me.

I watch as they all walk away, chatting at laughing together.

I’m really looking forward to a hot shower, and then climbing into bed.

I had so much fun tonight, but I’m more of a home girl than a party girl.

I’mhappyto be less interested in partying so that I can focus fully on my doctorate.

I pull out into the road, yawning loudly.

Tomorrow, I will need to look at my budget and how I can pay for the next part of my studies without my brothers finding out. I’ve been using the money my parents left me when they died. Most of my inheritance is in the family trust though—and tied to the family business.

I’ll have to come up with a good reason for Rodion to not question the money I request.

The streetlights flash past my window as I get closer to home. My apartment is in the city, nice and close to the university.

I pull off the main road and onto a side road. I’m almost home.

Behind me someone flicks their brights on, blinding me. It’s so annoying when people are that inconsiderate.

I push my breaks, slowing down to let them pass, thinking that it must be what they want. But instead of overtaking me—the driver comes up alongside me and starts swerving towards me. The dark tinted windows make it impossible to see who it is.

I let out a sharp scream of surprise when their car connects with mine and I am pushed right off the road, my car sitting on a lamp post—sending me jolting forward against the steering wheel. The airbag explodes in my face as I fly forward.

It stings and I scream again, but this time it’s cut short because the force of the airbag slams all of the oxygen from my lungs.

I try to blink away the horrible dizzy feeling as nausea pushes into my stomach. Panic surges through me and I choke back a cry.

But then I force myself to take a sharp breath. My brothers taught me so many things. One of those things is how to fight back.

Unclipping my seat belt, I do my best to ignore the fear. Get out of the car. Run. That’s what I need to do right now.

I kick at the door, which isn’t moving. I think when they hit me, it must have bent it closed permanently.

Beginning to feel desperate, I shuffle my body over the gear stick, trying to get to the passenger door. But before I can reach it—someone yanks it open and reaches inside my car to grab my arm.

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