Page 19 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

In neat cursive, it read:

For the headache. –V

At least there was one considerate staff member employed by Ivan. She seemed to be the only redeemable person in the whole place.

With a sigh, I grabbed the painkiller, popped it in my mouth, and took a swig of the water. Swallowing it back, I drank some more to soothe my dry throat, then slowly pulled myself out of bed.

I was sore from freaking out earlier, and whatever hope I had left of escaping Ivan and his plans seemed to simmer away. It seemed so impossible then, especially knowing the compromising position he wanted me in.

None of it made any sense to me, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever fully understand his motives.

But I went to the door on a whim, wondering if Ivan would at least keep his word about letting me roam the house. Reaching a hand out, I turned the handle, only to find no resistance waiting for me. Instead, the door opened, and as fleeting as it was, the tiniest flicker of hope returned to me.

Cautiously, I stepped into the hallway and stopped to listen. Despite the number of employees Ivan had, the whole house was surprisingly quiet. And seemingly empty.

I didn't know if that worked in my favor or not, but either way, I was prepared to take advantage of it.

I moved carefully through the house, almost like I was afraid of disturbing that suspicious peace. All the while, I took in the minimalistic yet chic décor—all of which spoke to how much money he had but suggested the furnishings and overall layout of his home were an afterthought. He didn't strike me as someone who put much thought into interior design.

Moving down the stairs and into the front foyer, noticing one of the guards standing outside the front door, I veered to the right and kept going until I heard the quiet mumble of voices and felt a subtle breeze.

Curious, I peered into the kitchen full of marble and pristine stainless steel appliances to find a side door propped open. While I peered inside, the voices drew closer as presumably the chef stepped inside and led a deliveryman intoa room off to the side, arms full of produce and various items to cook with.

They disappeared for some time, and all the while, my eyes never left that unlocked, open door.

It was far too tempting to pass up.

I had no plan. No thoughts beyond reaching that door.

Instead, I just went for it, speed walking towards in, silently hoping for the chef and delivery man to stay in that room long enough for me to slip out.

The moment my foot reached the threshold, able to taste near freedom, I felt like a rabbit slipping from its cage. Bolting for the chance to get as far away from its captivity as possible.

The air was knocked from my chest the moment I collided with him. I sucked in a breath at the feeling of his hard chest against me and beneath my palms before pulling back and looking up at him. Fear cracked through my system and immediately sucked that hope out of me all over again.

Ivan looked down at me with a stern expression, having already pieced together what I was doing. He reached for my wrist as I pulled it away, and despite the taunting gleam in his features, his touch was softer than I expected.

"And where do you think you're going, little prisoner?"

The words made me swallow hard, aware of the position I just put myself in. Aware that he caught me, and I had no idea what punishment was ahead of me for trying to leave.

When my throat was too closed up to manage the words, he narrowed his eyes at me and let them rake over me for another moment before scoffing.

"It doesn't matter...but I hope you'll behave for me," he murmured, gaze scalding and giving off a contrast to his deceiving words. "Be prepared for our elopement tomorrow."

Something about him assigning a date to his ridiculous plan sent another rush of panic through me, only solidifying it more for me. It felt all too real. Too serious.

While I silently gaped at him, I wanted to believe he was bluffing. I wanted to assume he was just trying to get a rise out of me.

But something about his serious expression told me otherwise. He was entirely serious, and that was the scariest part.

My heart sank, and every part of me just wanted to shrink and hide.

Chapter 9 - Ivan

I meant every word I said to Daria before.

If she had been with someone else, she probably would've been dead already.

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