Page 34 of Used Bratva Bride

His jaw clenches. “Don’t lie to me, Julie.”

I swallow hard. Lying would be useless. He’d see right through it. So instead, I carefully set the kitten down as I whisper, “I saw someone.”

Mikhail’s entire posture changes. The casual, cold arrogance is gone. In its place is something far more dangerous—a man slipping into Mafia mode, all sharp precision and ruthless intent.

His hand shoots out, gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his.

“Who?” His voice is deadly quiet, the kind that sends shivers racing down my spine.

I shake my head. “I don’t know his name, but… he works for my father.”

His fingers tighten fractionally before he releases me. Then he turns away, barking orders in rapid Russian to the two guards who had been standing nearby. They immediately spring into action, moving toward the area where I saw the man.

Mikhail doesn’t stop there. He pulls out his phone, pressing it to his ear as he strides forward. “I want eyes everywhere. Lock down the estate. Find him.”

My heart pounds harder. They’re coming for me.

A flicker of something like hope surges through me. Maybe my father sent someone to save me.

Maybe this is the moment I finally get out of here.

Mikhail’s sharp gaze snaps back to me, and suddenly, I know he won’t let that happen. Before I can react, his hand grips my wrist—tight, unyielding—and yanks me toward the mansion.

“No—!” I twist in his grip, struggling against him, but he barely reacts.

He drags me forward, his pace brutal, his strength overwhelming.

“Let me go!” I scream, jerking back, but it’s useless. His grip doesn’t falter.

“Stop fighting me, Julie.” His voice is calm, but I can hear the warning beneath it.

I don’t stop. I twist, kick, shove—anything to slow him down, to make it harder for him to take me back inside. If I go back in there, if I lose this chance… I might never get another.

My wild thrashing forces him to stop. For one brief second, I think maybe I’ve actually gotten through to him.

Then, in one swift movement, he yanks me forward, hoists me up, and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

I scream.

“Put me down!” I pound my fists against his back, kicking wildly. “Mikhail!”

Nothing. He doesn’t even stumble.

The guards standing outside the mansion don’t react, don’t flinch, don’t care as Mikhail carries me through the front doors.

“Someone’s looking for me!” I shout, desperate now, hoping—praying—that if my father’s man is nearby, he’ll hear me. “Help! Please!”

Mikhail growls, shifting his grip on me as he marches up the grand staircase. “Julie, shut up.”

I claw at his back, thrashing harder. “You can’t keep me here!”

“Watch me.”

I scream in frustration, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the heavy bedroom door slamming open.

Mikhail strides in and throws me onto the bed.

I land hard, my breath rushing out of me. Before I can scramble up, he’s already on me, pinning me down with his body, his large hands gripping my wrists.

---