Page 61 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

Something dark and unrelenting stirs in my chest, a frustration I can’t shake. “What about you?” I demand, my voice lowering as I lean closer.

She flinches slightly, her gaze flickering away. “I’m fine,” she says, but the tension in her voice betrays her.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. The idea of her here, out of my sight, where I can’t protect her—it’s unbearable. I’ve spent my life building control, ensuring that nothing and no one slips through the cracks. And now? Now I’m being asked to trust that someone else will keep her and the baby safe.

Damn it.

“You’re not fine, Hannah,” I say, my voice hardening. “Don’t act like you don’t matter. You’re just as important as that child.”

Her eyes snap back to mine, and for a moment, there’s fire in them. “I’m doing this for the baby,” she says through clenched teeth. “That’s all that matters.”

Her stubbornness should infuriate me, and maybe it does, but it also… captivates me. The sheer force of her will, her determination, her selflessness—it’s maddening and magnetic all at once.

Before she can respond, I close the space between us, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss is fierce, hungry, a collision of emotions neither of us is willing to admit aloud.

Her breath hitches, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt as she pulls me closer. I feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the faint curve of her stomach reminding me of everything that’s changed—and everything that’s tying her to me.

She sighs against my mouth, and I deepen the kiss, my hand slipping behind her neck to hold her in place. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of defiance and vulnerability that I can’t resist.

When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dark with something that matches the hunger I feel.

“Makar,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

I press my forehead against hers, trying to rein in the chaos she stirs in me. “You’re mine, Hannah,” I murmur, my voice rough. “You and the baby. And I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, I see something shift in her expression—something softer, unguarded. Before she can respond, the door creaks open, breaking the moment.

Andrei steps inside, his expression neutral but his timing deliberate. “She needs to rest,” he says, his tone calm but firm.

I glare at him briefly, but I know he’s right. Still, it takes everything in me to step away, to release her hand and rise to my feet.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her, my voice softening slightly as I meet her gaze.

She nods, her lips pressing into a thin line as she watches me.

As I move toward the door, Andrei falls into step beside me, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place.

“You seemed… concerned,” he says after a moment, his tone carefully measured.

I glance at him, my expression hardening. “Of course I’m concerned,” I snap. “She’s carrying my child.”

Andrei smirks faintly but doesn’t comment further.

As we leave the hospital, the cold night air hits me like a slap, but it does little to cool the fire still burning inside me.

Andrei walks alongside me as we step out into the crisp night air, the distant hum of traffic filling the silence. I take a deep breath, trying to tamp down the lingering frustration gnawing at me.

“You’re on edge,” Andrei says, his tone calm but probing.

I shoot him a sharp look. “Wouldn’t you be?”

He shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Maybe. It’s not like you to let it show. This”—he gestures toward the hospital behind us—“it’s different for you.”

I don’t respond immediately, my jaw tightening as I reach the car. Andrei leans casually against the passenger door, waiting.

“Say whatever it is you’re dying to say,” I bite out, my voice low.

Andrei smirks faintly, always toeing the line of what he can get away with. “You’re not the type to get distracted, Makar. She’s a distraction. A dangerous one.”

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