Page 13 of Forced Bratva Hostage

He'd feel the heat and eventually get burned for playing with fire. I'd make sure of that.

My expression hardened within the next second, my jaw tightening as I cast a deadly stare at her. “Your father owes the Bratva a sum of $500,000.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and her jaw dropped. The amount must have struck her like a powerful blow. “Five hundred thousand?” she whispered under her breath, breaking eye contact with me.

“You’re not going anywhere, Wren, until your father pays up every single cent he owes the Bratva,” I growled, my voice low and menacing as I leaned closer, my scowl deepening.

She raised her head, her eyes wide with fear as they locked on mine. Her lips trembled at the frown etched on my face, her breath lodging in her throat as my words hung in the air like a deadly promise.

“The longer he takes, the longer you remain trapped here, and once my patience wears thin….” I clicked my tongue, my voice dropping to a haunting whisper. “I can't guarantee your fate.”

Her baby face paled at my words and the seriousness they carried. She swallowed hard, her throat wobbling.

She hesitated for a moment, struggling to steady her breathing. “I…I don't know how he managed to owe that amount.” She shook her head, pleading with her eyes. “But I canassure you, he can't pay it back. He doesn't have that kind of money.”

I drew a deep breath, reclining on the sofa, fingers toiling with my cufflinks. “Well, that's a shame. If he can't pay it, then I'll be forced to honor our contract.” I jerked my eyes at her.

She squinted, her forehead creasing. “What do you mean?”

“You see, when your father took the money, he signed a contract which stipulated that failure to repay on time would mean he'd become our property…that we'd do to him whatever we deemed fit,” I explained, my voice devoid of empathy. “He knew the terms when he took the money.”

She shook her head, her brows knitting together to mirror the disbelief flickering in her eyes. “Wh…what will you do to him?” she stuttered.

“I haven't made up my mind yet.” My expression turned cold, calculating, as I sought comfort in the ideas my head cooked up. “For starters, we can harvest his organs, sell them on the black market, and I'm sure we'll make double the money he owes us.” A deadly smirk played on my lips.

Her face contorted in horror, eyes misting as she slid off the bed. “No, please, you can't do that!”

“Oh, but I can. And I will,” I replied, my tone low and dripping with assurance.

Wren sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She clasped her hands together in desperation. “Please, sir…” she begged, crawling to my feet, her teary eyes never leaving my face. “Don't hurt him. I'll…I'll get the money—just gimme a few days. I'll raise it, I promise.” The words, laced with franticness, tumbled out of her quivering lips.

My brows rose in surprise at how she thought she could pull that off within a few days. Her naivety and her love for her father were admirable, but he was already a lost cause.

“You're gonna raise $500,000 in a few days?” I chuckled, my eyes flashing with amusement.

She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. She knew it was impossible but was somehow at least willing to give it a shot.

“I'll do anything to raise that money; just please, don't hurt him. He's the only family I have left. I'm begging you, sir.” She wept, jerking her eyes toward me.

I'd done my research on Harrison Everett—the man who had abandoned his own daughter after his wife's passing. That gambling drunk was undeserving of Wren's love and devotion.

The innocent girl was naive—oblivious to the fact that she was just a pawn in her father's game of debt and desperation.

“As curious as I am to see how you're gonna raise the money in a few days…” I let out a soft groan, rising to my feet, “I just can't.” My expression turned cold in a heartbeat, eyes narrowing as I took menacing steps forward.

Wren crab-walked backward, her breath hitched in her throat and her teary eyes locked on me with terror flickering in their depths.

“You're not going anywhere until your father returns with my money,” I declared, my tone an intimidating growl.

She blinked rapidly as if trying to fight her tears.

I lowered myself to her level, my fingers slowly combing through her soft, dark hair. Her body trembled in reaction to my touch.

Leaning closer, I whispered, “You're my little prisoner, Wren Everett, which means starting now, you'll do as I say, when I say it, and how I say it.” I withdrew my hand, my gaze unwavering. “Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

“Good.” My face softened, and I rose back to my feet. “Don't blame me for your present predicament.” I adjusted my coat and headed out. “Blame your father.”

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