Page 17 of Forced Bratva Hostage

“Well, what can I say?” My lips curled into a sly smirk. “They played with fire. It was only logical that they got burned.”

“The level of compliance from our debtors is remarkable,” he said, his tone smooth as honey, each word laced with satisfaction.

My eyes crinkled at the corners as I absorbed the praise he showered me with.

Roman continued, “I checked in with the account two hours ago, and I must commend you for a job well done in such a short period of time. I'm impressed, brother. As isPakhanArtem.”

My heart warmed with subtle humility, a faint grin spreading across my face. His acknowledgment left me feeling honored, and his appreciation filled me with gratitude. It meant a lot coming from a calculated and principled man like Roman.

Roman's dedication to the Bratva was something I could never match, hence why I was deeply moved by his validation.

Once upon a time, I wasn't as invested in the Bratva cause as I was now. I used to wish that I could escape this life—trade it with something else, something a lot more…mundane.

But as I grew older, I came to the conclusion that this was my life, my everything, and Roman made sure of that. He made sure that I stayed the course and remained focused.

Even though I never told him this, I owed a lot of my achievements today to him.

Roman wasn't just my older brother. He was also my mentor, a man whose words were always so reasonable and practically hard to ignore. I'd learned a million things from this man. Maybe I should thank him more often.

“I’m touched by your gratitude, brother—and I'm not being sarcastic right now,” came my reply. “Thank you.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Afanasy?” Roman's voice came through the phone's speakers, dripping with shock and disbelief.

I rarely said those words to him—in fact, I didn't think I'deversaid those words to him before, so his surprise was expected. I could only imagine the look on his face right now, and I'd take a picture if I were in the same room with him.

“You know what, I think I'll take it back.” I cackled, navigating another turn.

I heard him laugh on the other line, and in the background, there was the adorable voice of a little girl filled with excitement: his daughter, Yelena.

My face lit up with a smile. “Is that my favorite niece?”

“Uncle Afan!” Her exhilaration boomed through my phone.

“Hey, pumpkin!” I replied with the same tone, my energy nearly matching hers. “How's it going?”

“Yelena, stop making trouble!” Julia warned.

My heart warmed at the sound of Yelena's shriek and giggles as she protested, her footsteps creating gentle thuds against the floor.

I assumed her mother, Julia, ever the disciplinarian, was chasing her around.

“Come back here, you little devil!” Julia's playful tone confirmed my assumption.

“Hi, Afanasy. Bye, Afanasy,” Julia said, now a lot more audible, as though she was closer to the phone. “Sorry, honey. Please continue.” Her tone dropped to a hushed whisper, her words directed at her husband.

As Julia's footsteps receded, Yelena's squeals of protest grew fainter, and soon, I heard the door shut.

I still couldn't fathom how my brother, Roman, had managed to secure this much peace and comfort in his life. Not that he didn't deserve it; he did. But the circumstances behind his newfound bliss were rather fascinating.

Decades ago, Roman had suffered a loss that forced him to turn colder than Arctic water. The man had ice in his veins with a dead conscience that harbored no emotions whatsoever.

Yet, he’d found love at last, in the unlikeliest of ways. It was interesting how Julia had slipped into his life, thawing his stone-cold heart.

“You know, two years ago,” I began, my eyes momentarily darting to the phone's screen, “if someone had told me that you'd be happily married by now, I'd have doubted it.”

Roman laughed lightly. “It’s not so bad, you know. You should try it.”

“You make it sound like you're advertising a cookie.” I chuckled softly, fingers combing through my hair.

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