Page 31 of Forced Bratva Hostage

I watched her chest swell at his last word as though it terrified her. Her breaths now seemed heavy, her body subtly tensing. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting across the floor.

This was more of the reaction that I was expecting earlier. The idea of spending the rest of her life with me as my wife hadjust kicked in. And it wasn't pretty. The concept of an eternity with me must have struck her like lightning.

Her fingers trembled. Her lip quivered, and her head remained bowed.

The priest looked at me and asked, “Afanasy Tarasov, do you take Wren Everett to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

Without a moment of hesitation, my voice rang clear, eyes fixed on my beautiful bride. “I do.”

He shifted his gaze to her and asked, “Do you, Wren Everett, take Afanasy Tarasov to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him….”

While he spoke, she raised her head, her eyes misting ever so slightly as she gazed at me. A flush rose to her cheeks as she struggled to curtail the emotions within her. Tears danced in her eyes, threatening to spill, but she held them back in.

Her chest rose and fell with slow breaths as though bracing herself for the vow she was about to make.

She blinked rapidly, her lips quivering when it was time for a response. Wren drew a deep breath without breaking eye contact.

Her hesitation stole my breath for a moment, my brows knitting together.

“I do,” she said, her voice quiet but audible.

A gentle sigh of relief escaped my lips, my composure unaffected.

The priest's gaze swept across the congregation. “Is there anyone seated here with a reason why this union should not take place? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence fell amongst our guests as they exchanged glances. My men, ever ready, rose to their feet, their sharp eyes roaming the church, their expressions stern.

But just as the priest was about to continue with the ceremony, there was an interruption.

“Stop!” a man bellowed, barging into the church and quickening his pace toward the altar. “Stop this madness! I have your money.” He raised a briefcase in his hand.

“Dad?” Wren's brows arched, her eyes darting toward him.

“Here's your money.” He waved the case, his tone laced with hostility. “Now, let my daughter go.”

My jaw tightened, eyes narrowing beneath furrowed brows as I glared at this fool, my fingers balling into fists.

The scowl on my face deepened at the murmur rising from the crowd.

How dare he embarrass me like this?

My teeth gritted as I thought about how to make him pay for this act of disrespect.

I seethed in silence, my blood boiling with rage.

Chapter 12 – Wren

My heart was racing in my heaving chest as I stood in front of the full-length mirror, dressed up in my expensive white lace gown. The woman looking back at me was a beauty to behold; the maids had transformed me into this elegant goddess.

But beyond the physical beauty, my heart was bleeding from the way my life had taken a drastic turn for the worse. I was yet to come to terms with my new reality; everything was happening so fast, and it seemed almost impossible to keep up.

Never in a million years would I have thought about this—getting married to a man I barely knew, let alone one who kidnapped me and kept me prisoner in his house. I knew Afanasy reveled in watching me suffer, but I didn't think he'd go this far.

However, he wasn't the one I blamed.

This was all Harrison's fault.

I would never have been caught in Afanasy's web of cruelty if Dad hadn't involved himself with the Bratva.

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