Page 63 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

“Is that really all?” I ask, my voice breaking as I reach out and grab his sleeve, stopping him mid-step.

He pauses, his back still to me. “That’s all,” he says firmly, not looking at me.

Something inside me snaps. The flood of emotions I’ve been holding back bursts through, and I can’t stop the tears that well up in my eyes. “You don’t care about me, do you?” I ask, my voice trembling. “All you care about is what I am to you. Your wife. Your possession. Is that it?”

His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t answer. Slowly, he turns to face me, his expression unreadable.

“Makar,” I whisper, my voice cracking as the tears spill over. “Is that all I am to you?”

The sight of him standing there, silent and unmoving, only makes it worse. The weight of everything—his indifference, my own fear and frustration—it’s too much to bear.

He steps closer, his dark eyes fixed on me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to walk away again. Instead, he reaches out, his thumb brushing against my cheek as he wipes away a tear.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

I stare up at him, my breath catching at the unexpected tenderness in his touch. It’s not the answer I wanted—not even close—but it’s something. A crack in the wall he’s built around himself.

“Makar,” I say again, softer this time, my hand still clutching his sleeve.

His thumb pauses, resting against my cheek as his gaze searches mine. For a moment, I think I see something—regret, or maybe even guilt—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I’ll give you time,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “To think. To decide.”

“Decide what?” I ask, my throat tightening.

His jaw clenches. “What you want.”

The answer is clear: I want this baby. I want the life growing inside me, the one thing that’s become a source of hope in this twisted, impossible situation.

What about Makar?

One thing Idoknow is that I don’t need time to think.

His face is unreadable, as usual, but there’s tension in the way his shoulders are set, in the way his jaw is tight enough to cut glass.

“I’m not getting rid of the baby,” I tell him firmly, even as tears threaten to spill all over again. “I don’t need to think about anything. That’s my decision.”

His lips press into a thin line, and he steps closer, his gaze narrowing. “Hannah, you need to think logically. Your health—”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my voice rising despite the ache in my chest. “Don’t pretend this is about my health. If it were, you wouldn’t even suggest something so… so barbaric!”

His expression hardens. “Barbaric?”

“Yes!” I nearly shout, my emotions boiling over. “I’m five months pregnant, Makar. It’s too late, even if Iwantedto—”

“I know doctors,” he interrupts, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him, my mouth slightly open in disbelief. “Doctors,” I repeat, my voice trembling. “You know doctors who would… who would kill this baby, at this stage?”

“I know doctors who can handle complications,” he says evenly, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something defensive, maybe even guilty. “This isn’t about killing anything, Hannah. It’s about protecting you. Ensuring you survive.”

I let out a bitter laugh, though the sound is choked with unshed tears. “You don’t care about me,” I say, shaking my head. “If there was no baby, would you even keep me around, or would I just be another inconvenience to handle?”

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, looming over me as his eyes darken. “Don’t twist this,” he says, his voice dangerouslylow. “You’re my wife, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Your wife,” I repeat bitterly. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Just a title. A duty. This is just a problem for you to solve, huh?”

His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t know how. “You’re not a problem,” he says finally, his voice quieter but still firm. “You’re… important to me.”

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