Page 72 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

“Where is Zara now? Answer me, you fool,” Denis grabs him by the throat.

Carl's eyes dart nervously between us, his bravado crumbling. "I told you already. She… she got away," hestammers, wincing as I tighten my grip. "Pepper sprayed me and Yuri. Clever little bitch."

A surge of pride mingles with my fear. That's my Zara—resourceful even in the face of danger. But the relief is short-lived.

"Others are looking for her," Carl continues, his words rushing out. "Professional trackers. They won't stop until—”

I silence him with a sharp blow. "How many? Where?"

"Four, maybe five," he gasps for air as Denis tightens his grip around his neck. "Fanned out in the direction she drove off in. They know the area better than she does."

My heart races. Zara's alone, disoriented, in unfamiliar territory. And she's being hunted.

"We need to move. Now," I growl, turning to my brothers. Their faces mirror my own determination.

Vladimir nods, already on his phone. "I'll have our best men scouring the area within minutes."

"Not enough," I mutter, pacing. My mind whirls, calculating probabilities, mapping escape routes. "She's smart, she'll avoid main roads. We need to think like her."

Denis studies a map on his tablet. "There's an off-road leading through the forest. If she found it…"

“She could be running to the safehouse,” my hands almost shake at the revelation. Vladimir and I exchange instant glances, remembering how she found us there once, torturing a goon.

“Do you think?”—Vladimir begins.

“Let’s go,” I command, not wasting a moment. “Tell our men to cover every surrounding area by foot and cars. Her car’soutside, so she’ll be running. We’re heading straight for our safehouse, and we should reach in time to intercept her.”

As we prepare to leave, I pause, glancing at Carl's crumpled form. A dark part of me wants to end him here and now. But Zara… she wouldn't want that. She's made me want to be better, even now.

We’ll deal with him later, if she’d like.

Chapter 26 - Zara

The forest floor crackles beneath my feet as I run, branches whipping my face and snagging my clothes. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. How could Carl do this to me? My own cousin, selling me out to those monsters.

I never should have trusted the likes of them again,I think to myself between ragged breaths.Family means nothing.

Tears blur my vision as I stumble through the underbrush. I wish I had my fucking car. But I must have dropped the keys from my bag while grabbing the pepper spray to escape.

It all happened so fast. The moment I saw my kidnapper, I knew Carl sold me out. I tried to inch away, but they grabbed me. There was a gun to my head while they debated when to take me, and an hour passed with them watching. Then the kidnapper got a call, and I asked Carl why. Carl, despite wanting to be a criminal, clearly wasn’t very good at it and put down the gun to tell me the million ways I fucked up.

His face was contorted with rage, and he rambled on and on about how I left his family out and dry. The entitlement steeped deep through his bones, and I was so thoroughly disgusted, trying to work out what made someone this self-obsessed. But, in the midst of all his pacing, I found myself able to pull out the pepper spray.

Carl had screamed, blinded as he was. I hid behind the door and when it swung open, took the kidnapper by surprise. And I ran so damn fast, never looking back. Only when outside did I realize that my car would be no fucking help without the keys. And there’s no chance I could risk going back in there.

And now, I find myself alone, running in the woods along the road, trying to find the opening leading to the back of Abram’s safe house. That same place I never wished to lay eyes on again, where I saw Abram last torturing a man, is now proving to be my redemption.

The forest floor is a blur of decaying leaves and gnarled roots threatening to trip me with each frantic step. My lungs burn and my feet hurt, but I run.

It’s not my life I fear for; it’s my baby’s. Fighting for our survival has me on edge. I’m aware of every movement, every sound, every threat.

Suddenly, I hear voices and heavy footsteps approaching. My blood runs cold.

"She went this way!" a gruff male voice calls out.

I dive behind the broad trunk of an ancient oak, pressing my back against the rough bark. My chest heaves as I struggle to quiet my breathing.

Through the leaves, I catch glimpses of several large men in dark clothing crashing through the forest. They pause, not far from my hiding spot.

---