Page 26 of Captured By the Bratva

Dammit.

Guilt swamped me, and it made no sense. I’d never spentanytime around kids. Never wanted to. Hadn’t ever planned to. But after one second of seeing this sweet girl so upset, I wanted to pulverize this asshole who’d tried to take her.

Another soldier ran up, slowing in the alley.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded. He was the one who should’ve been watching around here.

“The Rossini broke into her place.” He swallowed, catching his breath. “Marcus ran inside to intervene, and the footage shows the man breaking into Murphy’s apartment.”

I tensed, watching the baby. Hearing someone reference Becca by her surname bothered me. That was how I referred to her father, Steven Murphy, and I didn’t like the association of Becca with him.

“He knocked out the babysitter. Marcus is with her, taking her to the hospital and telling her not to speak about this with anyone. Her head hurts, but it doesn’t look bad. She’s more startled and confused than anything. She was about to take the baby with her to drop off something at the college campus, taking the baby with her because she didn’t know where the mother was.”

I nodded, calming as the report clicked and made sense. Hell, I hadn’t known about Emily. If I had, I would’ve planned to retrieve Becca and her daughter as a package deal. Two hostages for one. I hated the thought that she’d been suffering this whole night and worried about being parted from her daughter. Hannah was there, and it sounded like the sitter wouldn’t have left the baby alone when Becca didn’t come home. Still, it was a wrench in the plans I hadn’t accounted for.

“Rossini?” I checked, standing as I lifted the baby carrier. I handed Emily over to the soldier as I studied the man. He looked Italian, all right, and livid. Caught between two Valkov men as they held his arms back, the asshole panted and scowled at me.

“Rossini?” I said again, asking him directly.

“Fuck you.” He spat at my feet, and Dmitri slammed his fist into his stomach.

“Take him to the basement of the Garrent facility,” I ordered, referring to a nearby Valkov property. The old warehouse would do for an impulsive torturing session.

I brought Emily to my car, and as the soldier slid into the backseat and tried to strap her in, I caught the baby’s careful, scared gaze. She watched the man, sucking on that pacifier, and I felt hit once more with this possessive streak of rage. To fight for her. To defend her. To shelter her.

What the hell is happening?I rubbed at my chest, thrown off with how immediately I wanted to protect this stranger’s baby.

No, not a stranger.Becca was no longer just a hostage. She was infiltrating my mind and tricking me to think of her as something far more personal.

“What are we going to do with the baby?” the soldier asked as Dmitri and the other man drove the Rossini to the building.

“Iwill handle her,” I told him.

I did. I carried the handle to the seat-like contraption, confused with the awkward grip. Like a large loop, it jutted up and out. This wasn’t ergonomic at all, but I kept her close, surrounded by Valkov men, as Dmitri brought the Rossini to the basement.

Dismissing the stains of blood dried on the floor, I set the carrier off to the side in a room with windows that permitted a view into the torture room. Emily whimpered but didn’t cry out as I stepped away and closed the door to prevent any screams or sounds from bothering her too much. A Valkov man stood on guard in there with her, an older soldier. “Go on. I’ll calm her if she fusses.” He had a few kids of his own, so I knew he’d try his best.

I nodded, grateful for the assistance.

Then I strode out to the other room, extracting my knife from my pocket. Holding it reminded me of how I’d used it on Becca,but I shoved down the memory. Now wasn’t the time. I had to focus. “Start talking,” I ordered the Rossini.

He didn’t. Not at all. I was careful with the wording of my questions. How I posed them could potentially give away information, so I began with general demands for him to explain what he was doing and why.

He said nothing, though, and after a while of punching him, severing his fingers and scalping him, I wondered if he even was a Rossini. He didn’t bear the branded mark many of their soldiers wore as a sign of initiation into their organization, but whoever he was, whatever organization he affiliated with, he would not speak up.

Similar to Becca’s silent treatment, the man who tried to take Emily remained mute. Silent to the point of pain and bleeding out. Quiet with a stubborn stupidity that pissed me off.

“He’s not going to say shit,” Dmitri concluded after a couple of hours.

I shook my head, agreeing with my brother but irked. All this time, and he wouldn’t crack. It happened sometimes, but it aggravated me at the moment more than it otherwise should have.

Emily had fallen asleep, sucking on that pacifier, and I sighed as I glanced through the window at her on the table in that other room. She hadn’t stirred.

Dmitri lifted his gun to point at the man, but I held my hand up to stop him.

I didn’t need a gunshot to wake Emily. Instead, I returned to the man and sliced his neck.

While Dmitri gave orders to have the place cleaned up, another man approached to report in. “I’ve handled the other woman. She’s at the hospital, and with concerns of a head injury, amnesia can help explain away what she saw.” He handed overa large bag. “She won’t talk, too scared, but we’ll keep a man on her to make sure she doesn’t report Becca and Emily missing.”

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