Page 57 of Forced Bratva Hostage

He was as calm and composed as he could be, but I could smell the fear and anxiety oozing off him. He remained focused, fingers moving deftly with lightning speed. One thing was certain: Afan cared about me, and the fact that he was still here, risking his own life, melted my heart.

No one had done this for me before—not even my father. I was already used to people leaving me at the time when I needed them the most. Yet, here he was, trying desperately to disarm the bomb around my neck.

The countdown continued: 02:47…02:46….

“Afan,” I called softly, my voice barely audible, but he ignored me and focused on the collar bomb. “Afan…you don't have to do this…. Please, go,” I added amidst sobs.

“Shut up, Wren! I'm busy!” he cut me off, his tone aggressive.

It didn't hurt that he yelled at me—in fact, it felt good to have him care so deeply. Maybe I was wrong to have thought the worst of him. He may not have told me to my face that he loved me, but this was a clear indication—proof of his undying love and affection for me and our unborn child.

Ten seconds until detonation.

“Thank you, Afanasy.” My tone was low and calm, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I love you,” I declared, my voice laced with sincerity, meaning every word.

Five…four…three….

I shut my eyes, drawing a deep breath, which I'd already assumed would be my last.

Just then, the collar clicked, and I felt the rush as Afanasy's fingers pulled the device off my neck. Then, I heard it clank on the floor.

My eyes opened, wide with shock and relief as I saw him smiling, wiping sweat off his forehead. He withdrew a switchblade from his belt and cut the ropes that held me bound.

Afanasy pulled me out of the chair and into an embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “What did you say to me?” His lips curled into a smile as he looked into my eyes.

A playful scowl settled on my face as I recalled the pain I'd felt when I saw him with that woman back at the party. We both were out of danger now, so a little banter wouldn't hurt.

My face contorted into a mock frown. “I said I hate you.”

He pulled me closer to himself, his fingers combing through my hair, eyes fixed on me. “I bet you do.” His thumb wiped away my tears, skin gently grazing against mine.

At his touch, all my anxiety dissipated, replaced with a feeling of peace and relief.

Our intimate staring contest was soon interrupted when his right-hand man, Yakov, and his cousin, Alexei, stormed back into the room.

I watched Afanasy's face contort into a frown, his jaw clenching and eyes blazing with fury. I traced his gaze to Kolya, who was kneeling, with Yakov and Alexei holding him at gunpoint.

They had caught the bastard, and I could see the terror in his eyes as Afanasy marched toward him, balling both hands into fists.

He didn't look so tough now that he was at my husband's mercy.

“Wren, close your eyes,” Afanasy said, his voice dripping with venom. “I don't want you to see this.”

“Boss, let's talk about this…. I can explain,” Kolya said, his voice trembling with fear as my husband took off his jacket, slowly rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt.

“You went after my wife,” Afanasy growled, fury lacing his tone. “There's no justification for that.” He expertly spun a dagger around his wrist.

“No, no, no—please, wait!” Kolya threw his hands in front of him, pleading for mercy.

I closed my eyes as Kolya's piercing screams echoed through the room.

Chapter 21 – Afanasy

Changed into a hospital gown, she sat on the bed, stealing glances at me with a faint smile on her lips as the doctor, clad in his crisp white coat, examined her body. His experienced hands, shielded by a pair of latex gloves, moved efficiently over Wren's body.

He examined her eyes, shining a penlight into their depths as though checking for signs of a concussion or trauma. As the light illuminated her iris, my wife blinked a few times, her pupils contrasting in response.

“Wren, please follow my finger,” he instructed, his hand moving left, right, up, and down.

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