Page 41 of Bratva Baby

Chapter 17 - Seraphina

My phone won’t stop buzzing, and it’s triggering every alarm in my body. I’m halfway through sorting the morning mail when I grab the device and glance at the screen. Father. The title alone launches a wave of dread. It’s been two weeks since the dinner party. Grigor left on a business trip a couple of days ago, and I convinced myself I could breathe easy with him gone—less chance of him discovering my secrets, right? But now, seeing Father’s name blazing across the display, I realize how naive I am.

I tap the phone to my ear. “Yes?”

“We need to speak.”

My pulse throbs in my throat. “If it’s about some new scheme, I don’t have time.”

He scoffs. “I’m calling for your benefit as much as mine. This concerns your sister. You remember her, don’t you?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Don’t start with me.”

“Meet me,” he orders. “The empty warehouse near the docks. Thirty minutes.”

“Warehouse near the docks?” My chest constricts. He’s used that place for shady dealings more than once. “Why can’t we meet somewhere… less murdery?”

“Are you refusing me?” He sounds almost amused. “You know exactly what’s at stake.”

“I can’t just slip out unnoticed. There are guards all over the place.”

“Figure it out,” he says with a sneer. Then the line goes dead.

I stare at the phone, feeling a storm of panic. My father never contacts me unless he needs something. The last time we spoke, he was angry enough to strike me. Then Grigor retaliated by stabbing his hand for hurting me. Now I’m forced to face Father’s wrath alone, with Grigor halfway across the country handling Bratva business.

I tuck the phone away and glance around the living room. Anton is stationed outside the room, as always. He’s been instructed to keep an eye on me while Grigor is gone. He’s thorough, rarely leaving me out of sight. I’ll have to be creative if I want to escape. My gaze lingers on the back entrance—maybe I can climb over the garden wall. It’s ridiculous and risky, but Father’s implication about Cecily leaves me no choice.

I hurry upstairs and toss on a hoodie and sneakers. The estate is quiet at this hour, with most of the staff occupied with chores. I pray no one notices me slipping through the back door. The second I step outside, the breeze hits me. I force a breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. If Anton realizes I’m missing, he’ll call Grigor or chase me down. But looking out for Cecily overshadows every other risk.

I creep around the side of the house, pressing myself against the outer wall. The garden gate stands ahead. I flip the latch, praying it doesn’t squeak. It gives, and I squeeze through before shutting it softly behind me. Once outside, I dart along the hedge until I reach the main road. If I can hail a taxi or find a rideshare within the next few minutes, I might make it in time. My phone’s location services are off thanks to a crash course in covering my tracks. I quickly request a car from an app, ignoring the guilt gnawing at me for lying to my husband’s staff. I have to keep Cecily safe.

A car appears within two minutes, and I hop in. The driver, an older man with graying hair, offers a polite greeting. Irespond with a distracted nod and give him the address near the docks.

When we arrive at the rundown warehouse, I pay the driver and step out onto the cracked pavement. No crowd, no guards. Just a vast metal structure with rusted siding. A single car is parked near the entrance—my father’s sleek sedan.

Inside, the overhead lights buzz and flicker on occasion. The space smells of oil and must. My father stands near a row of pallets with his hands shoved in his coat pockets, and his gaze fixes on me like I’m a prize he’s waited months to collect. I keep my distance, stopping a good ten feet away.

“Two minutes late,” he notes, glancing at his watch. “You’ve lost your touch, Seraphina.”

“What do you want? What was so urgent I had to rush over here?”

“To apologize.” He rakes a hand through his hair while I blink at him. There’s no way I heard him right. “I know how difficult I’ve been, and I should never have laid a hand on you. That was out of line. But you see… I’m in a tight spot, Seraphina.”

It feels like an anvil has dropped into my stomach. My father doesn’t apologize, and he definitely doesn’t admit weakness.

I steel myself, not wanting to appear caught off guard. He doesn’t need the upper hand. “How tight?”

“I owe a considerable sum to the Irish. They’re calling it in, and I don’t have the funds. The only currency they’ll accept instead is information—dirt on the Barkovs. They threatened to snatch Cecily if I fail to deliver.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. “So you thought blackmailing me was the best solution? You want me to betray Grigor’s trust just so you can pay off the Irish?”

He bristles and throws up his hand. “You see what he did to me? Or are you blind? The man is a monster, Seraphina. And worse yet, he’s in alliance with them. They stand together, and he won’t break that alliance for a mere woman.”

“Mere woman,” I echo bitterly.

“You think I enjoy seeing your sister living under constant threat? My family is on the brink of ruin, and you’re in a position to help.”

I’m quiet, torn between disgust and pity. This is the same father who forced me into marriage, the same father who slapped me for disobedience. Yet I hear the strain in his voice.

---