Page 40 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

He stops at the end of the hall. Opens the door.

Every inch of relief vanishes, because he’s sitting there.

Kolya.

In a chair beside the bed, legs spread, one arm resting casually across the back. He looks clean, composed. That dark coat draped across the chair like a predator pretending not to bare its teeth.

His eyes find mine immediately, and he smiles. Not wide. Not mocking. Just enough to sayI win.

My breath leaves me in a soundless gasp.

My legs won’t move.

The blood drains from my face as the pieces fall into place with cruel, cutting precision.

William betrayed me.

“Go on,” Kolya says, voice low, patient. “Come inside.”

My knees lock. My pulse pounds in my ears. I turn slowly, shakily, to William—my voice barely audible. “Why…?”

He doesn’t answer, but he closes the door behind me.

Chapter Eleven - Kolya

She looks at me like the world just collapsed.

Like everything she’s ever believed in—every thread of safety, loyalty, kindness—has turned to ash in her hands. It’s in her eyes: wide, wild, shimmering with tears she doesn’t want me to see. Her entire body has gone rigid in the doorway, half frozen in place, and I can hear the way her breath hitches in her throat.

Betrayal clings to her like blood.

Good.

I lean back in the chair, slow and deliberate, and rest one ankle over my knee. My arms fold over the backrest like I’ve got all the time in the world. Because I do. I’ve already won.

“Naïve,” I say, voice low and sharp as glass. “You always were.”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

William stands in the hallway behind her, silent now. He doesn’t need to explain himself. He’s done his job. The truth is already leaking into her like poison.

“You still don’t get it,” I murmur, tilting my head. “You think the world plays by the rules you grew up with. That loyalty is simple. That good men don’t lie. That charities save people.”

Her shoulders flinch.

“Let me make it clearer,” I say, standing slowly. “The Ember Trust?” I chuckle under my breath. “That little sanctuary you think saved you? It’s ours. Funded by the Bratva. Used to clean money, grease hands, keep us looking clean in the public eye.”

She stares at me like I’ve just slit open her skin.

“William’s worked for us since the beginning,” I continue, walking toward her in measured steps. “He made sure the ‘right’ children got opportunities. Quiet ones. Isolated ones. Ones with no family. No one to notice if they disappeared.”

Her chest rises sharply.

My gaze holds hers, unrelenting. “You.”

She shakes her head. “No….”

“Yes,” I snap. “You were handpicked. When you became useful, he recommended you. You’ve been under our thumb your entire life, and you never even noticed.”

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