Page 9 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

There was a flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. “Be careful how you speak to me.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me like you did him?”

He scoffed. I could see the way the fading sunlight cast shadows against the sharp edges of his face. “I did not kill your father, but he took something that belongs to the Bratva.”

My stomach twisted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His jaw ticked. “I need you to think before you answer my questions.”

Was he threatening me now?

I straightened my spine, lifting my chin. “Even if he did, what the hell makes you think I’ll tell you?”

“Because,” he said, his voice low, almost a warning, “this isn’t a game,solnishko. I do not have the time or patience to play with you.”

I froze at the nickname. The Russian endearment felt foreign on his lips, foreign and taunting, like he knew something I didn’t.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I snapped, trying to yank my arm back. His grip tightened just enough to remind me that he was stronger, that he was in control.

I glared at him, my heart throbbing wildly against my ribcage. He stared right back with an unreadable yet dark expression on his face.

Suddenly, the evening wind got heavier, and the air around us grew thick with tension. I knew right then and there that I should’ve chosen my words very carefully.

I was alone here, which meant he could kill me and bury me alongside my father, and nothing would happen. No one would even know where I was or who did it. Dad was gone, but I had Mom to live for. I didn’t think she would survive it if anything happened to me, too, but I wasn’t going to back down either.

Whimpering at the thought of what this crazy man could do to me, I lowered my gaze to my hand. His fist was still wrapped tightly around my wrist, and it hurt like crazy.

As if realizing for the first time that he was hurting me, his gaze flickered downward, and his grip loosened.

My wrist was red where he had held me. A flash of something I couldn’t wrap my head around crossed his face. Was it guilt? Annoyance?

It was gone before I could place it.

He released me. “You should watch your back,solnishko.”

I held his gaze for a second longer before stepping back. “And you should stay the hell away from me.”

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him standing there in the fading light, watching me.

Chapter 4 – Andrei

Giselle looked just like her father. They had the same eyes, the same raven-black hair, and, most of all, she’d inherited his defiance—all that stubbornness that made him loyal to a fault.

But she was also different in every other way.

I could tell how innocent she was just by looking into her eyes. She was pure and soft, a quality that would get her killed in a world like ours.

She was everything I hated, but when she stood her ground in front of me today, knowing I could kill her if I wanted and fighting to hide her fear, something in me had shifted in a way I didn’t understand yet. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since I got back from the funeral that evening.

There was something about Giselle that I found hard to ignore, and whatever it was, I wasn’t quite sure I liked it. My job was to gather information about the whereabouts of the Tyfun-1 from her, nothing more.

I leaned back in my chair, the dim light from my desk lamp casting sharp shadows across the room. My fingers drummed against the polished wood as I replayed our conversation—if I could call it that—at the cemetery.

Despite her attempts to seem composed in front of others, I could see the sadness in her eyes that indicated she was on the verge of breaking down. She gripped the piece of paper for her speech tightly, seeking comfort from it.

When our eyes met, I could see the intense hatred she held for me and for the mafia. I knew she blamed us for her father’s death even before she uttered a word. She loathed us, despised everything we represented.

But it was different for me because although I’d seen her in that goofy picture Peter used as his wallpaper, she was way prettier in person.

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