Page 29 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

I sit tensely, waiting for the punishment that is obviously coming.

He walks into an adjoining bathroom and I hear him moving around for a moment before he comes out carrying a first aid kit.

I bite my lip as he kneels down in front of me.

Chapter 9 - Avraam

Finding Ruslana downstairs was a complete shock. I heard her tantrum, her screaming and shouting, but I ignored it because I knew it was some tactic to get to me go into her room so that she could lure more information out of me.

But when I heard movement in the house, I had to go and see what the hell was going on.

I can’t believe she got out of those cuffs. The inescapable cuffs.

But she tore her own skin to do it.

Seeing her wrist, covered in bruises, raw and bleeding—it made me wince in pain myself.

Why would she hurt herself like that just to get out into the house, where she must surely know she cannot escape from? Why would that be worth it?

I kneel down and pull the first aid kit from the cabinet beneath my bathroom basin.

Heading back into my room, I crouch in front of Ruslana. She hasn’t moved. Her eyes are wide with fear. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

It breaks me to see her like this and no matter how hard I try to tell myself that she is nothing more than a pawn in my plan—my heart is aching at the sight of her pain.

“Why did you do this? This is such a stupid move,” I mutter angrily.

I grab her arm and tug her wrist forward. She winces. I grit my teeth, telling myself to be more gentle. I feel angry withmyself though, for letting this happen to her, and now I’m taking it out on her, which isn’t fair.

I take a slow breath and move more gently.

First, I clean the open wounds and wipe away the blood with sterile gauze. Then I gently put disinfectant cream over her raw skin and slowly, carefully, I wrap her wrist in a crisp white bandage, layer by layer—

“Don’t take this off Ruslana. Do I make myself clear?”

I stare into her eyes as I speak, watching her, trying to read her.

“Please—Avraam—please don’t put me back in there.”

“You are a prisoner. Where the hell else would I put you?” I snap.

“Please—“ She bursts into tears, “It’s so quiet. It’s so lonely—I can’t—“ her words choke away as tears take over and I realize that she has been alone, day in and day out since the night I walked out of her room. I have been avoiding her because I can’t control myself around her—and it isn’t fair.

No one does well in solitary confinement, and she is slowly losing her mind. It’s affecting her mental wellbeing. I’m such a fucking asshole.

I left her alone because I felt the attraction I had towards her and I wanted to stop that from going anywhere. But my own weakness has caused her mental distress.

Fuck.

My heart aches.

Guilt floods me.

I finish wrapping the bandage around her wrist and secure it in place with some tape. Then I look up at her, her wide-eyed stare, full of fear and sadness.

She was so desperate not to be alone that she was willing to do this to herself.

Running my thumb over the bandaged wounds, I sigh.

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