Page 88 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

The fact that they helped him to the hospital is not enough to make me happy or help me not to worry—because my brothers are still angry with him. And I know what happens when my brothers are mad at people.

Rigor is especially upset and every time I mention Avraam he wants to release hell on him.

“Please,stop,” I sigh, annoyed with him. “All I am asking is that you leave him alone. Whatever he did—kidnapping me—he made up for it by taking a bullet for me. Right?” I look towards Rodion.

He sighs heavily, folding his arms across his chest he looks at Rigor.

“Yeah. He did take a bullet for her, Rigor. And he was there to help save her life from that fucking psycho,” Rodion shrugs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. She got taken by that psycho because he kidnapped her. It’s all his fault,” Rigor snaps angrily.

I ignore his comment and speak directly to Rodion.

“So, you promise to leave him alone then?” I ask, filled with hope.

“Sure. We’ll leave him alone. But if he comes near you again, that deal is off,” Rodion warns me. “I mean it, Ruslana. Stay away from him.”

I rush forward and hug him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Why the fuck do youcareabout him so much?” Rigor snarls agitated and hateful. “We shouldn’t even have helped him to the hospital. We should have left him there to die.”

“That’s not who we are,” Ryder hisses back at him.

They can carry on arguing amongst themselves. Rodion has promised me that they will leave him alone and that is all I needed to hear.

I walk out of the living room and their heated conversation fades away behind me.

I’ve been staying with Rodion for the moment because no one wants to let me out of their sight.

I kind of don’t care about how much they are trying to control me. I feel hollow and numb. I don’t care about anything.

I miss him so much that it hurts. But it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters because I don’t think any of it was real.

I’m so confused. My head is a wreck, and I can’t get my thoughts straight.

Ryder tried to comfort me this morning and told me that shock after trauma can make people feel like shit. He told me to just give it some time.

But it’s not the trauma that is on my mind.

It’s Avraam.

Every day, and every night, all I can think about is him and it’s driving me crazy. Another week goes by and nothing changes in my heart.

I’m angry with myself because I keep thinking that I’m being ungrateful. Through everything—no one that I love got killed. We all walked away. Avraam is alive. He’s healing, he’s fine.

But I’m over here sulking over what Idon’thave.

Impossible things.

I flop down on my bed, sighing and burying my face against the pillow.

“Shut up,” I mumble against the soft fabric, talking to my own mind.

But it doesn’t shut up. It keeps drifting back to Avraam.

He risked his life to save me.

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