Page 20 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Liar.”

For a moment, the world feels impossibly small, the only thing I can focus on is his gaze and the weight of his presence.

“You’ll stay here, Hannah,” he says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you behave, maybe I won’t have to teach you what happens to people who defy me.”

His words are calm, almost conversational, but they’re sharp enough to cut through the tension, leaving me raw and exposed.

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His presence is suffocating, his authority absolute. Beneath the fear simmering in my veins, anger stirs.

“What’s wrong with you?” I snap, my voice trembling with rage. “Do you think you can just keep me here like some kind of prisoner? You’re insane!”

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes darken, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face.

“You killed a man,” I continue, my words spilling out like poison. “You shot Kris in cold blood and didn’t even flinch. Do you even feel anything, or are you just some kind of monster?”

The last word hangs in the air, and for a moment, silence stretches between us.

Then, in a blur of motion, Makar closes the distance between us, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head. I flinch, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. His face is inches from mine now, his piercing blue eyes locked on to mine with a fury that steals my breath.

“Careful, little fox,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t want to know what happens when you push me too far.”

My breath catches in my throat, but I refuse to look away. “You already pushed too far,” I spit, the words defiant despite the fear coiling in my chest. “You killed someone. You kidnapped me. You don’t get to lecture me about boundaries.”

He leans closer, the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves. “You think you’re innocent in all this?” he asks, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “You think you didn’t make a choice the moment you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I snap back. “You think I wanted to see you murder someone? To get dragged into your twisted world?”

He tilts his head, a humorless smirk tugging at his lips. “No, I don’t think you wanted any of this, but here you are, Hannah. Here’s the reality: you had a chance to save yourself.”

I blink, his words throwing me off-balance. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” he says, gesturing to the phone on the table. “This was a test. Your last chance to prove you were worth sparing. All you had to do was stay quiet. All you had to do was keep your head down and not snitch. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

My stomach drops, a chill washing over me. “I had to try.”

His smile fades, replaced by a cold, detached expression. “I gave you a choice,” he says evenly. “You failed. Miserably.”

I take a step back, my legs trembling. “You’re insane,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Am I?” he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or am I just a man doing what’s necessary to survive in a world that doesn’t forgive mistakes?”

I shake my head, my anger rising again despite the fear gripping me. “You’re not surviving, Makar. You’re terrorizing people. You’re destroying lives without even thinking twice.”

He exhales sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I don’t destroy lives for fun, Hannah. I do it because I have to. Inmy world, hesitation gets you killed. Trust me, the only reason you’re still breathing right now is because I’m debating whether you’re worth the effort.”

My throat tightens, and I shrink against the wall, my gaze darting toward the door.

“Don’t,” he says sharply, his voice snapping like a whip.

I freeze, his warning anchoring me in place. His hand moves to his pocket, and when he pulls out a sleek black pistol, my blood turns to ice.

My breath hitches, my heart hammering as he holds the gun casually at his side, his grip steady and sure.

“Do you know what the problem is with people like you?” he asks, his tone almost conversational again. “You think the world operates on fairness, on justice. You think if you scream loud enough, someone will come running to save you.”

I can’t look away from the gun, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“Here’s the truth, little fox,” he continues, taking a step closer. “No one’s coming. Not the police, not your friends, no one. The only person who decides whether you live or die right now is me.”

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