Page 87 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

“I think you’ve never cared about something that can say no.”

That sits in the air for a moment, heavier than I like.

I look back out the window. “When I find her,” I murmur, “they’ll die slow.”

“Good,” he says, cocking his gun. “If you don’t make them scream, I will.”

We pull off the main road, tires crunching against broken gravel. The buildings here are old, falling apart. Everything reeks of rust and old ambition. The kind of place where forgotten things go to rot. It fits.

The hotel is still blocks away, but we stop early. I want to move in on foot. I want tofeelit before I strike.

I step out of the car, cold air biting my face. The street is silent, too quiet for a district that never really sleeps. That alone sets my teeth on edge.

“They’re expecting something,” Boris mutters, falling in beside me. “They don’t knowwhen; we can use that to our advantage.”

“They’ll know soon.”

We move like shadows—four men spread across both sides of the street, eyes sharp, steps soft. A plan is forming in the back of my mind, precise and bloody. But beneath it, something else hums.

Where is she now?

Is she tied to a chair? Drugged? Alone?

The thought makes my fists clench. I want to hear her voice. Even if she’s screaming at me, even if she’s calling me a monster—I want tohearher. Because silence means she’s broken.

I can’t stomach the idea of her breaking before I get to her.

The hotel comes into view—gray concrete, cracked windows, graffiti scrawled across the front in symbols I don’t bother translating. Two doors. One back alley. Fire escape half collapsed. My mind maps it instinctively.

Boris lifts his phone, texts something to the surveillance crew we left a block away. No movement on the roof. Good.

We don’t rush in. Not yet.

We circle around, just out of view. We need to find outwhowe’re dealing with. Who gave the order. Who thought they could useheragainst me.

“Elise,” I whisper under my breath, gaze fixed on the lifeless building.

I’m coming.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Elise

The van ride is brutal.

I’m tossed like cargo, every bump in the road slamming my shoulder into metal. My wrists burn from the restraints—plastic zip ties cutting into skin gone raw. A gag digs into my mouth, too tight, stiff with the taste of dirt and rubber. I can’t breathe properly. My ribs ache from how hard I’m trying not to panic.

The blindfold makes it worse. It turns the world into a void. No up, no down, just motion and muffled voices. I hear the driver laughing. Someone in the back lights a cigarette—its acrid scent burns my nose, makes my stomach roll.

Then, like venom curling around my brain, his voice returns.

“I’m doing this for you, Elise. You’ll thank me one day.”

No. No, I won’t.

I should have known the second I saw him—should have run the other way. But blood does strange things to people. Makes you stupid. Hopeful.

He never came to help me. Never tried to protect me. He saw an opportunity, just like every man before him.

Another man who saw me asleverage. A pawn. A fucking bargaining chip in someone else’s war.

---