Page 38 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

Except my heart stops as I swing the door open, because there he is—Timur. His sharp blue eyes pierce through me like a cold blade, and his presence fills the room before he even steps inside. He looks just like I remember him, commanding and ruthless, dressed in a dark suit that molds perfectly to his broad frame. Behind him, a couple of his men stand like statues, watching silently.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing in my ears. I thought I’d gotten away. I thought I was safe.

“Jennifer,” Timur says smoothly, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. Without waiting for an invitation, he steps into my home, like he owns the place. “Why do you always run?”

I take a step back, instinctively pressing myself against the wall, trying to put distance between us, but he keeps closing in. The air grows thick with tension, the kind of tension that makes it hard to breathe, hard to think. His eyes, dark and cold, never leave mine.

“I—” My voice cracks, my words dying on my lips as I struggle to make sense of what’s happening. All I can think about is Tyler, just a few feet away. I pray he stays asleep.

Timur takes another step closer, his expression unreadable, but his eyes flicker with something—something dark. “Tell me, Jennifer. Why did you leave? What made you think running would change anything?”

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes as I meet his gaze. There’s no way out of this. No lie that can save me. I have to tell him the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

“My mother,” I finally say, my voice trembling. “She was a police officer.”

Timur’s brow furrows slightly, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

“She was killed in a shootout. A shootout with the Russian mob,” I say, the words tumbling out, heavy with grief and anger. “I don’t know who did it. It could have been anyone. It could have been one of your men.” My eyes dart toward the silent figures standing near the door before returning to him. “It could have been you.”

Timur’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable, and the silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and I feel the tears sting my eyes. I’ve hated him for so long, and now, standing here, I finally understand why. It’s not just because of who he is. It’s because of what he represents.

“That’s why I ran,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to be anywhere near you or anyone like you.”

His face remains cold, unreadable, as if my confession means nothing to him. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he’s incapable of understanding how much I lost.

“Yet here we are,” he says slowly, his voice dripping with venom, “you betrayed me. You ran to the Italians.”

It’s not a question. It’s an accusation, and it cuts through me like a blade. My breath hitches, and I feel the weight of my guilt crashing down on me, suffocating me.

“How much did they pay you?” Timur steps closer, his face inches from mine now, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger. “How much did my life mean to you?”

I shake my head frantically, my vision blurring with tears. “I didn’t have a choice,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I needed an escape, notmoney.”

His gaze hardens, and he grabs my arm, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against his chest. “An escape?” he repeats, his voice rising with disbelief. “Betraying me was your way out?”

“I didn’t betray you!” I cry, my voice breaking. “I didn’t want to! I had no choice. You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” Timur’s voice is sharp, and I can feel the heat of his anger rolling off him in waves. “You thinkI don’t know what it feels like to be turned on by someone I trusted?”

His words slice through me, and I shrink back, the tears spilling down my cheeks. He’ll never understand. He’ll never see how desperate I was, how terrified I’ve been every single day. How could he? He’s lived his entire life in control, never afraid, never powerless.

“I was scared,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. “I was terrified. You have no idea what it’s like to live in fear every day, wondering if someone’s going to come after you or worse….”

Timur’s expression doesn’t change, but I can feel the tension between us shift, growing darker, more dangerous.

“So what,” he says softly, almost mockingly, “you thought I wouldn’t find you?”

I bite my lip, feeling the panic rising in my chest again. I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I’m not safe. I was never safe.

Timur’s grip on my arm tightens slightly, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “You can’t escape me, Jennifer. You belong to me.”

I feel the cold wall pressing against my back as I inch away from Timur. My heart pounds so violently I can barely think, each beat a reminder that he’s too close—far too close for me to escape. His eyes burn with something fierce, something dangerous, and I know he’s losing control.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Timur’s voice is low, threatening, as he takes another step toward me.

My throat tightens, my breath quickening with fear. I try to back up farther, but there’s nowhere else to go. The wall is unforgiving behind me, and Timur’s towering presence leaves me no room to run.

“Please… don’t hurt me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Every muscle in my body tenses as I wait for what’s coming next.

---