Page 10 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

I’ve faced numerous attempts on my life over the years, all of them so deadly that it is impossible for one incident to stand out. I’ve been shot, I’ve been stabbed, I’ve been beaten, kidnapped, and tortured.

There was a night a few years back when a rival faction decided to test their mettle. They staged a full-scale attack on one of our warehouses. I was there, surrounded by my men, when an explosive device went off. The blast was deafening, and debris rained down around us. I barely escaped with my life, my clothes torn and my skin scorched. I’m reminded of that incident every time I look in the mirror and see the debris and burn scars littering my back.

But these attacks don’t just leave physical scars, but psychological ones too—a reminder of how precarious our hold on power really is.

It’s not just been my life on the line. I’ve come close to losing my siblings more than once. Victor and I have had our share of dangerous run-ins, but it was my sister Anya’s near-fatal encounter that haunts me the most. She was targeted by a group that wanted to send a message. They ambushed her one night, leaving her barely conscious and in critical condition. I remember the frantic rush to the hospital, the fear gripping me as I saw her lying in that sterile hospital bed, her body bruised and broken.

For two months, my dear Anya was in a devastating coma, her life hanging in the balance. Nobody could tell us what was going on. Not even the best doctors in the country could predict whether she would wake up. It was the longest two months of my life, waiting for her to wake up, hoping she would pull through. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and even now, the memory of those days reminds me of the thin line we walk every day.

Within half an hour, I returned to my building. I bark orders at the guards to stay away as I carefully carry Gwen from the car and into the elevator, holding her tightly as we make our way up to the penthouse. Soon enough, the elevator doors peeled apart, and I entered my penthouse, heading for the spiral stairs.

I carry her slowly up the stairs, glance down, and spot her head resting against my shoulder. I felt a strange feeling stir within me at the sight of her sleeping with her body pressed up against me. There was a possessive urge that bubbled within me that I couldn’t deny, that I struggled to control no matter how hard I tried to push it aside. It was difficult.

There was something about Gwen that allured me in a way that I never felt before, but I can’t quite place it.

All I know is that ever since I saw her and looked at her beautiful face, there’s this visceral, primal urge within me that desperately wants to claim her, protect her, make hermine, and keep her safe.

I carried her down the hallway and tucked into a guest room, walking forward to gently place her on the bed while I ignored the unsettling thoughts. The idea of claiming her, of keeping her close, continued to cross my mind. I quickly chastised myself for such thoughts. This wasn’t about personal desires; it was about strategy and control.

As much as I want to keep her, I first need to focus on protecting her and keeping her safe. And that all starts with finding out the identity of those fuckers behind all this and conducting a plan to take them down for good.

I pulled the blankets over her sleeping frame; my gaze stuck on her face for a moment before I turned around. I closed the door behind me.

With Gwen settled, I needed to get back to business. I needed to review the security cameras and prepare for the next steps.

Leaving her in the room, I turned my attention to the immediate concerns. I heard a knock at my door downstairs, which alerted me to my brother’s presence.

The night’s events were just beginning to unfold, and I had to stay ahead of whatever came next.

Chapter 4 - Gwen

A groan escapes my mouth. I blink hard against the harsh sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains, disoriented. It takes me a couple of seconds before I peel my lids open completely, and when I do, immediately, I can’t help but frown.

Where was I?

Anxiety takes root in my stomach as I try to make sense of my surroundings. The room was unlike anything I had ever seen—gorgeous and luxurious, with sleek furniture and modern art adorning the walls. I lay in the softest bed I have ever felt, covered in multiple silk blankets.

Panic surged within me. My heart raced as fragmented memories of the previous night began to resurface. The casino, the laughter with Riley, the sudden chaos of gunshots—it all rushed back in a dizzying wave.

I sat up slowly, my head spinning, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cool hardwood floor met my bare feet, grounding me as I focused on the task ahead: finding out what the hell was going on.

Glancing around, I noticed a massive mirror hanging on the wall. My reflection stared back at me, disheveled and bewildered. My hair was a bit of a tangled mess, but I was wearing silk pajamas I have no recollection of putting on.What the fuck is this?

Pushing back my anxiety, I allow a surge of determination to take over. I furrow my brows. I needed answers, and I needed them now. Pushing myself to my feet, I quickly but quietly left the room, looking back and forth down a long marble hallway before I ventured forward. I navigated through what I quickly deemed to be a luxurious penthouse. I reach a circular set ofstairs and descend them, careful not to make any noise. On my left is an open living area, and on my right, around the corner, I could see parts of the kitchen. I decided to make my way towards the kitchen.

As I rounded the corner, there he was.

The man I met last night stood shirtless, leaning casually against the counter, his muscular frame glistening with a light sheen of sweat. My heart raced again, but this time not from fear. I scolded myself mentally; I shouldn’t feel this way when I was supposed to focus on why I was here and finding Riley. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, propelling me forward.

“Hey,” I snap as I cross my arms in defiance. “What the hell happened last night? What am I doing here? Where’s Riley?” I look down at myself, at the clothes I’m wearing. “Why… Am I wearingthese? Did you undress me, youfreak?

I watched as his expression shifted from amusement to seriousness. “You’re awake,” he said in a frustratingly unbothered voice.

“What—Of course I’m awake. You didn’t answer my questions.” My voice rose, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through me.

Roman pushed away from the counter, his eyes darkening, sending a chill sweeping down my spine. He didn’t answer for a moment, and the way he held my stare made me believe he wasn’t thinking of what to say, just finding amusement in my disgruntled state. Finally, he said, “I didn’t undress you. My housekeeper did.” Then, he turns around.

My lips part in disbelief, and anger churns inside of me. I can’t control myself as I stomp over until I’m standing beside him, forcing myself into his bubble. “What’s the matter withyou? What the fuck am I doing here?” When he doesn’t answer, I try to grab his arm. “Take me—”

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