Page 69 of Used Bratva Bride

I reach for the faucet, splashing cold water on my face. The chill grounds me, momentarily clearing my head.

Then, the door creaks open. I stiffen, expecting to see Arlo—or worse, another of Mikhail’s men demanding I hurry up.

It’s neither. It’s her. Sophia. I freeze, barely able to believe my own eyes.

She stands just inside the doorway, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes scanning me with unreadable intensity.

“Sophia?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

She steps closer. The tension in the air is suffocating. I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say. She takes another step and reaches out, like she might actually hug me, but she stops, drops her arm and, instead, asks, “You okay?” Her voice is softer than I ever remember hearing it.

I nod, but I don’t fully trust my own answer.

She pulls back, scanning me like she’s assessing any damage. “You look better than I expected.”

“Thanks?” I reply hesitantly.

There’s a pause before she steps back, her arms returning to their usual crossed position. The warmth of the moment fades, and I recognize the calculating gleam in her eyes.

Whatever this is—it’s not just a rescue mission.

“Arlo works for you,” I state, piecing it together.

Sophia tilts her head, neither confirming nor denying it, but the silence is answer enough. My heart pounds.

She’s here for a reason. Whatever that reason is… it’s not simply to save me.

I should be relieved, shouldn’t I? This is my chance. My way out.

My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

If I go back with her, I return to the same toxic, suffocating world I’ve always known. I return to a father who never cared, to a family that sees me as nothing but a tool, a disposable asset.

Mikhail….

I force the thought away before it fully forms.

It was a phase. That’s all. A dangerous, confusing phase.

Sophia pulls something from her coat pocket and presses it into my palm. A phone.

“Do us a favor, Julie.”

I blink, staring at the small device in my hand.

She continues, tone measured, deliberate. “I know how close you’ve gotten to Mikhail.”

My blood runs cold. Arlo. He reported to her. Of course, he did.

Sophia lifts a brow at my silence. “Don’t look so surprised. I had to know what I was dealing with. It turns out, you’re more useful than I thought.”

A pit forms in my stomach. She’s not here to save me. She’s here to use me.

“What do you want?” I ask warily.

Sophia steps closer, lowering her voice. “The Bratva is negotiating a major deal with a man named Greg Evans.”

I recognize the name. He’s a businessman with deep ties in multiple industries—legal and illegal alike. Mikhail has mentioned his name once or twice in passing.

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