Page 66 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

It seemed impossible that she could've faked it all, but at the same time, I didn't doubt her in Mexico either, and look where that got me...

Wrapped up in that bitterness, I dropped my phone on the back of the couch and leaned against the frame while I held my head in my hands.

The tug of war in my head kept me in constant confusion and doubt, torn between wanting to trust her and falling into that cynicism I was so used to maintaining.

More than anything, I wanted to believe Daria was innocent. I wanted to believe that she had been nothing but her brother's unwilling puppet before.

I wanted to believe the woman I fell for so completely didn't deceive me all over again.

Unaware of how long I stood there, caught up in my own mind, I lifted my head the moment my phone buzzed.

My eyes widened at seeing her name across my screen, barely able to grab the phone fast enough.

Despite the jump of my heart in my chest, feeling vaguely relieved, that hope froze the second I noticed she had sent an attachment...not anything written. No explanation.

Unable to wait, I clicked the message to expand it, and at the sight I took in, my heart dropped.

There she was...my wife...the woman I wrongfully accused of lying and faking everything from the last few months...unconscious and tied up.

Struggling to digest what I was seeing and understand that it was real, a moment passed before another text followed that simply read:

-R

That was all it took to trigger the unfettered, blinding rage inside me.

He had her. He took my wife and had her tied up like she was nothing more than something to be transported on his whim.

Like she was a betting chip and not a woman...not his own sister.

In a blur, I was on the move, calling everyone I could while I hurried back to the car with only one thought and purpose on my mind.

It didn't matter what it took...I had to find her.

I had to get my wife back.

Chapter 28 - Daria

Pieces of reality ebbed and flowed within the scope of my recognition, and a dull ache behind my eyes was the first thing to fully register.

Whether hours or minutes passed between regaining a semblance of consciousness and fully opening my eyes, I had no idea, but my surroundings left me with more questions than answers.

Concrete surrounded me on all sides, and the chill it sent through my body made me shiver faintly. It was fairly dark, too...from what I could tell, there either weren't any windows nearby or it was already dark out.

Either way, I was disoriented, cold, and stuck in the relative darkness.

But none of that mattered when I blinked through the haze of my confusion to find him standing there.

Suddenly, the hard floor couldn't hold a candle to how deeply the sight of my brother froze me.

"Good, you're finally awake," Rurik muttered, stepping forward enough to nudge my leg with his boot, eyes not overly caring at all. "And here I was worried Matvey fucked up and poisoned you or something...or as you knew him, Sergei Belov."

Swallowing hard, a rush of anger pulsed through me at the reminder of what happened. The fake potential buyer, the realization of what was going on, and him snuffing me out with that cloth over my nose and mouth. I could practically taste those fumes still.

Keeping my eyes on Rurik, not trusting anything he had planned, I muttered, "Why did you do this? What do you want?"

He grinned to himself before crouching in front of me, clad in his usual expensive clothes. His body language wasincredibly relaxed and overly confident, aware that I couldn't do anything while he had me tied up.

"I warned you beforehand that I'd pick for you if you couldn't make up your mind. It was either me or the Fokins, and since you didn't choose...I did."

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