Page 6 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

He nods, punches in the address on his monitor, presses the button to start tracking my fare and pulls out into the road. I grin as we drive through town. I’m proud of myself.

And later on, when I get home safe and sound, my brothers willhaveto see that I’m really not in any danger at all. They’llhave toreduce my guard or get rid of them all together. I can’t keep living like this.

I’ve been super smart about my plan.

I’m not even going to the mall I usually go to. I’m heading to the smaller shopping district with vintage boutiques and a few fun clothing stores and coffee shops and a lot of other things. I can’t wait to just enjoy myself.

We arrive and the driver parks on the side of the road. I hand him the money. “Keep the change,” I say cheerfully, climbing out.

Standing in the street, I look around, smiling at everyone. This whole adventure has lifted my mood considerably.

Because this is not my usual area to explore, and honestly, no one I know would ever shop here, I know people won’t recognize me. It’s the whole reason I came here. I’m safer here than anywhere else I could shop.

I start strolling through the streets, stopping in at each shop, wandering around, enjoying myself while browsing and buying to my heart’s content.

It’s like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t have five massive guys following me around, looking grouchy and glaring at anyone who comes near me. No one is staring at me, I don’t feel embarrassed—It’s amazing.

In fact—no one is looking at me at all.

My brothers are so paranoid.

I have been walking around for almost two hours and no has spoken to me apart from the shop assistants.

My fingers are getting a little tired from carrying all the shopping bags. That was one thing that was great about having guards—they carried everything for me.

But still.

I can’t wait to get home and show my brothers how much shopping I did and that absolutely nothing happened.

I stop at a coffee shop, order a slice of lemon cake and a cappuccino.

After this I’ll go back.

My feet are tired and I’m really happy.

While I eat my lemon cake, I watch the people walking past and smile at whoever glances in my direction. It feels so good to be free like this.

The lemon cake is zesty. The perfect balance between sweet and sour. And the dark bitterness of my coffee compliments it wonderfully.

When I’m done, I walk out into the street and turn left, towards the center of the district where most of the taxis hangout waiting for passengers. I left my phone at home, so I can’t book an Uber, but I knew there would be plenty of taxis to take me home.

I swing my parcels back and forth, humming to myself.

Something feels off, though.

There is a weird, tingly feeling at the back of my neck, and I swear every time I look over my shoulder, it’s the same dark SUV I see.

I dart around a corner, moving suddenly and impulsively.

I just want to confirm if I’m being paranoid now because I feel like I am.

The SUV follows.

I swallow hard.

I can’t overreact.

I can’t panic.

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