Page 22 of Forced Bratva Hostage

Three.

My arms were spread out, one sliding over the rail and the other resting on the wall by my side.

I counted twelve steps, and on the thirteenth, I was at the base of the stairs. From there, I just needed to locate the library door. I needed to move quickly and with more stealth.

One of the guards should already be in the kitchen by now, and the other should be out smoking. In this mission of escape, every second mattered, and I wasn't going to waste it.

However, before I could take another step forward, my heart sank into my belly, my breath ceasing for a moment at the sound of his voice. “Going somewhere?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit…!

The word rang repeatedly in my head as I stood there, frozen in shock.

I couldn't see the speaker, but that was the unmistakable voice of my captor. Of course, I'd recognize the tone that had haunted me every day for the past few weeks.

This was a disaster.

Yep. I was as good as dead.

A table lamp sprang to life in a cozy corner ahead of me, its warm, gentle glow illuminating Afanasy's features. He was seated on a sofa, legs crossed, as he glared at me.

As my eyes met his piercing gaze, my heart stopped for a moment, my body tensing like a trapped animal.

Fear vibrated through my core, my skin crawling with goosebumps. As he rose to his feet, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, like all the air was being squeezed out of me.

The closer he drew, the more his imposing frame and stern expression stole what little breath I had left. My chest was rising and falling—a testament to the fear that gripped me.

He halted in front of me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. My hands trembled, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

His jaw clenched, his gaze unyielding as he inched closer, prompting me to pull away with cautious steps until my back hit the wall behind me.

I felt crippled by his presence, my mind racing with panicked thoughts as my scared eyes darted toward the librarydoor. In a split second, I gauged the distance, wondering if I could make a run for it.

“Don't bother; you're never gonna make it on time,” he said, his voice terrifyingly low and husky. “You're not faster than me.”

It was almost like he’d read my mind, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Shit. I could hear the sound of my own heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to catch my breath.

The air around me was filled with the rich scent of his cologne, and I could feel his warm breath against my face. “Did you really think that I wouldn't know about your little escape plan?” he whispered in my ear.

I shuddered at the sickening sound of his voice, my legs trembling beneath me as though they'd lost the strength to carry my weight.

“Isn't it funny how you think you found the blueprint of the house by chance?” His lips curled into an evil smirk as his gaze lingered.

Oh, my God! That was you? You orchestrated all of this?

My eyes widened in wonder and disappointment.

A sudden yelp escaped my mouth as he seized me by the jaw, his fingers pressing into my skin. It hurt, and instantly, my eyes misted, my tear glands charging up.

He lowered his head inches from my face, his eyes boring into mine. “You broke the rules, Wren, and a punishment is attached to that.”

His eerie whisper left a mark on my soul, inflicting me with terror.

“Please,” I began, my voice barely audible as he loosened his grip on my jaw. “I'm sorry. It just feels so suffocating in here, and I hate feeling useless. Please, just let me go. I'm begging you.” My palms clasped together in desperation, and my lips quivered.

He took a step back, his eyes darting across my body. “It's useless to beg me now, Wren. Your father has made his choice.”

His words piqued my curiosity, my brows narrowing. “Wh…what do you mean?” I stuttered.

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