Page 12 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

The lock clicks loudly, and I know it’s worked.

The door is open.

But did anyone hear that?

Is someone standing just outside the door waiting for me?

Will they be angry that I tried to escape?

I stand up slowly, trying to be ready for anything, but nothing happens.

After I’m sure there is no shuffling or sounds coming from the other side of the door, I push it open and peer out of the bedroom up and down the long passageway on either side of the door.

It’s dark and quiet. The dim lighting feels soothing, even though there is absolutely nothing soothing about being kidnapped.

I can hear voices, but they seem to be coming from much further way. Nothing to worry about if I can avoid them.

I move in the opposite direction towards a large staircase.

Being as quiet as I can, I creep down it, into a big open space. This isn’t the way out. I spin in a circle, looking for something to lead me outside. Moving through the mansion, I start to panic. It’s a miracle I haven’t been seen yet.

This place is too big. What is going on?

I run quietly down another passage and into another open area. A dining room.

“Fuck,” I whisper. This place is massive. It’s so big, I’m lost.

But what scares me the most is that the size of this mansion is a reflection of the man who took me. He must be very powerful.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell myself. “Just find a way out.”

I take a deep breath and keep moving. I can’t stop now. I have to stay focused.

My heart is filled with relief when I find a kitchen—and a back door leading out into a garden. It’s obviously used mostly by the housekeepers. There is an area for hanging laundry and an outside scullery.

There is an entirely separate building just behind the house. I make my way around it and into the open garden area.

As soon as I’m in the open, I run.

If this place is anything like my brother's, then all the security will be out here, and I am going to have to run like hell if I have any chance of escaping them. It’s no longer about stealth. Now, it’s down to luck and speed.

An alarm sounds and my heart constricts. They know I’ve escaped.

I hear men shouting and all the lights come on around the property.

I scream when someone grabs me, pushing me to the ground. I roll onto my back and kick upwards, hitting the man in the stomach with a powerful kick. A huff of air is pushed from his lungs and his angry face glares down at me.

That’s when the fear really kicks in.

When I see his face.

A face I can never forget.

He is the man who drugged me at the club and tried to take me home with him. It was the other guy who lifted me onto his shoulder and tried to carry me out, but this man was right there. A memory flashes through my mind. Declan Volkov has me slung over his shoulder, but this man—whoever he is—is shouting commands. “Get her to the car.” He snaps.

I push the memory aside, terrified it will paralyze me. After the club it was this man who stalked me for months. I thought he worked for Declan. But clearly not.

Heis the man who tried to kidnap me in the shopping mall a few months ago. I thought he was dead. I thought he had died with the other men that day. Everything becomes clear as my mind pieces bits of the puzzle together.

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