Page 20 of Captivated By the Bratva

I wasn’t stupid. I’d heard and read about problems outside the protected tourist areas. Kidnappings. Rapes. Drug smuggling. Within the glitz and glamor of the cruise ship ports and traditional vacation destinations, visitors were safe. Those areas were protected because they wanted the commerce and business from vacationers. Outside of that area, though…

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Even here, almost to the outskirts of the tourist region, I saw signs of less maintenance. Graffiti covered the wooden post that held up this map. Litter remained uncollected on the edge of the grass.

I couldn’t go back into the vacation part of the city, not if I wanted to find a decent place to rest and think of what to do after this. And I didn’t feel confident to venture further out to unknown locations in a foreign country where bad things could happen to single women on their own.

Zoning out at the ads stuck to another wall of this shelter, I knew one thing. This was not a vacation. I wasn’t here to have an adventure zip lining and I wouldn’t be returning to port to hop back onto a cruise ship.

I’d run out of money soon, and with the lack of any resources or hope, I gave in to turning my phone on.

I wasn’t sure if it was desperation or a sense of helplessness, but I prayed that contacting the one person I should’ve always been able to rely on would help me.

As my phone beeped and put through the call to my dad, I bit my lower lip and tensed. Anxiety spiraled through me, knotting my stomach. Unease filled my head. I was overwhelmed with paranoia and nerves that this call would be tracked, but I had no other options.

“Hello?” His answer was gruff and short, like always.

“Dad. I?—”

“Where the fuck are you?” he demanded. Behind his angry words came the sound of a machine beeping.

“I’m…” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell anyone. Not just because this call could be tracked, but also because I didn’t trust him. He’d never once given me a reason to believe in him.

“You’re running from your responsibility.”

I opened my eyes wide, instantly furious. “Myresponsibility?” His accusation lit a fire within me. Fueled by the last reserves of my energy, I paced away from this shelter. Sweat dripped down my back. Cooked with this humidity, I felt even hotter now, livid.

“I never fucking did anything.Inever agreed to anything. None of this ismydoing.”

“You—”

“No!” I fisted my free hand as I paced. My duffle bag swung and knocked into my hip as I turned to pace back. “No.Idid nothing. Except be born. That’s it.”

How can he not realize how unfair and ridiculous this was?

“And you need to stop this bullshit once and for all. You cannot force me to marry anyone.”

“I can. I have to.”

I clenched my teeth, straining my jaw with the effort required to hold in a scream. “You don’t have to do anything. Why can’t you, instead of trying to stick with some old agreement, stand up for me? For your daughter. For once in your fucking life, stand up and supportmeand what I want, not what he wants.”

“Nadia. I can’t change the past,” he growled. “What the hell do you want me to do? Go back in time and undo what was done?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes. Obviously, he couldn’t. “But you can change how you act now. Tell that fucking old dudeno. Tell him that you won’t sacrifice your own daughter like this and?—”

“So, what? I should just sacrifice myself instead? Huh? You want your own father to be killed?”

I shook my head. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try to fucking guilt trip me. This is your doing. This is your bullshit that’s ruining my life. You chose to enter an agreement with that asshole. Soyoufigure out a way to solve it.”

“I have. By your marrying him.”

In other words, to sacrificeme.

“I’m in the hospital right now, you ungrateful little bitch.”

“Ungrateful?” I shot back. “What have you ever done for me that I’m supposed to be grateful about? Other than sentencing me to marry a sick creep.”

“They came to the store and attacked me. Then again. If you don’t marry Avilov, they’ll kill me.”

I let the silence be my reply. I didn’t wish anyone dead. Actually, I had. Many times, I prayed that Mr. Avilov would just die and no longer be a worry, a burden hanging over my head. Then, on darker days when I argued with my father, I entertained the idea of his being deceased. If my dad weren’t alive, his old promises had to be done, right?

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