Page 27 of Used Bratva Bride

“Am I?” he muses, tilting his head. “You don’t know Mikhail like I do. You don’t understand how he works yet.”

I don’t respond, my mind spinning. Would he really do that? Would he really let me die in here if it came to that?

Ivan watches me, his amusement fading slightly. “Look, you’ll be fine. The doctor will give you whatever you need to keep you from dropping dead. Don’t mistake that for care. You’re not leaving this house. Not today. Not ever—unless Mikhail decides you’re no longer useful.”

I swallow, my throat tight and dry. “What happens if I’m not useful?” My voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Ivan grins again, but there’s something colder behind it this time. “Then you’re a problem. Problems don’t tend to last long around here.”

A shiver runs down my spine. I hate how casual he sounds, like he’s discussing the weather. Like my life—or death—means nothing.

I force myself to sit up straighter despite the exhaustion weighing me down. “If Mikhail is waiting for me to be useful, he’s wasting his time.”

Ivan tilts his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Maybe. Don’t think that means he’ll just let you go.”

I don’t answer. What could I even say?

Ivan watches me for a moment longer, then exhales, shaking his head, as if I’m already a lost cause. “Doctor will be here soon. Try not to be difficult.”

With that, he strides toward the door, pulling it open effortlessly.

The lock clicks into place behind him, and I am alone again.

I bury my face in the pillows, pressing them against my mouth to muffle the sob that breaks free. Tears spill onto the fabric, hot and relentless. My body trembles, too exhausted to fight the emotions clawing at my throat. I don’t know how long I lie there, curled into myself, wishing I could disappear.

I’m trapped. Truly trapped. No one is coming for me. No one even cares that I’m gone. Mikhail made sure of that. A shudder runs through me, and for the first time, a disturbing thought creeps in.

Maybe dying would be easier than this.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the thought away.

As the silence stretches, something else settles into my bones—an unsettling feeling that I’m being watched. It’s been there from the start, lingering in the back of my mind.

There are cameras here. I know it. Mikhail is watching me. Well, let him see me cry. Let him see what he’s done. It won’t change anything.

Chapter Eight - Mikhail

The whiskey in my glass barely moves as I swirl it, staring at the amber liquid as if it holds the answers I seek. It doesn’t. Nothing does.

Julie Spade is an issue. A complication in what was meant to be a simple game of leverage. I had expected her captivity to send ripples of panic through the Spade family, to have her father and sister scrambling to get her back. Instead? Silence.

No desperate negotiations. No emotional pleas. No signs of a family torn apart over her absence. It’s infuriating.

Julie is supposed to be valuable to them. If not as a daughter, then as a pawn. James Spade doesn’t strike me as the type to let his blood be taken without consequence. And Sophia? She’s cold, calculating. Even she must realize that allowing her sister to remain in my hands makes them look weak.

Weakness, in our world, is unacceptable. Which means they’ll try to take her back—not for her sake, but to maintain the illusion of power.

That realization should satisfy me. It doesn’t. Instead, my mind keeps circling back to her. To the way she looked at me tonight, her body trembling with exhaustion, hunger, hopelessness. To the way she cried in front of me.

Not the quiet, controlled tears of someone trying to manipulate a situation. No, Julie Spade broke. And when she spoke—when she told me outright that her family didn’t care whether she lived or died—there was no deception in her voice.

That shouldn’t bother me.

I set the glass down with a dullclink, jaw tightening. A part of me—the rational part—knows I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. Julie is nothing more than leverage. If her father and sisterdon’t feel her absence, then I’ll find another way to make them suffer.

That moment, the one where her voice cracked and she told me the truth of her insignificance in their world? It lingers.

It unsettles me.

---