Page 68 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

“I’ve lost so much already, Makar,” I continue, my voice trembling slightly. “My family, my sense of normalcy, my freedom…. This baby? This is something I get to keep. Something that’s mine. I’m confident that I’ll make it. Ihaveto.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. The hard edges of his face seem to relax, and for the first time since this conversation began, I see a flicker of something warmer in his eyes.

“You’re stubborn,” he says, his voice quieter now.

“I’ve heard that before,” I reply, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

He pushes off the table and strides toward me, stopping just a foot away. His presence is overwhelming, his gaze locked with mine. “If you’re going to be this stubborn,” he says, reaching for one of the pill bottles, “you’ll need help.”

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Help?”

He smirks faintly, shaking the bottle lightly. “I’ll set reminders for you to take these. I’ll make sure you eat the right food. Hell, I’ll even force you to stay in bed if I have to.”

“Force me?” I scoff, narrowing my eyes at him.

His smirk widens, and there’s a glint of amusement—and something darker—in his eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

My cheeks flush, and I glare at him, though I can’t stop the small laugh that escapes me. “Maybe I wouldn’t completely hate it.”

We’re standing so close now that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a net. He places the pill bottle back on the counter and steps even closer, his hand brushing against mine as he leans in.

“Hannah,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.

“Yes?” I manage, my breath catching as his fingers trail lightly over my wrist.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he says, his lips curving into a smirk that’s equal parts exasperation and admiration.

“Good,” I whisper, meeting his gaze head-on.

For a moment, the air between us crackles with tension, a charged silence that feels both dangerous and exhilarating. Then he steps back, his hand falling away as he picks up another bottle of medication.

“Come on,” he says, his tone more serious now. “Let’s figure out a system for these.”

I watch him as he lines up the bottles, his movements precise and deliberate. There’s something strangely endearing about the way he focuses, as though ensuring my safety has become his personal mission.

“Thank you,” I say softly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

He glances at me, his blue eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Don’t thank me,” he says gruffly. “Just take care of yourself. That’s all I ask.”

***

The bitter taste of the pills lingers on my tongue, and I grimace as I chase it down with a glass of water. The first dose of this new reality. I set the glass back on the counter with a soft clink and glance at Makar. He watches me, his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Not a fan of the flavor?” he asks dryly.

I glare at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “They’re awful. Like swallowing chalk soaked in motor oil.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, moving the glass further out of the way. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Doubtful,” I mutter, but there’s no real venom in my voice.

Makar doesn’t reply, instead placing a hand on the small of my back and guiding me out of the kitchen. His touch is steady, firm, but not overbearing. “You need to lie down,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I don’t resist, too tired to push back. The fatigue that comes with all this is relentless, and I feel it in every part of my body.

He leads me into the bedroom, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the space. As I sink onto the bed, the plush mattress enveloping me, I let out a long breath, my shoulders sagging with relief.

Makar kneels beside me, his sharp eyes scanning my face. “Your feet,” he says, glancing at them. “They’re swollen.”

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