Page 55 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

I press a hand to my mouth, trying to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. How did this happen? How did I let myself get into this situation, where everything is spiraling out of control?

Yet, at the back of my mind, one feeling rings true the loudest: I’m about to have my own small family, which is something I’ve always wanted. This baby will be loved, and I will do everything in my power to keep it out of harm’s way. He orshe will be loved beyond belief, and I’d never let them lack for anything.

Mark's charming smile flashes before my eyes, now a silent promise of abandonment. Mark signed up to save me from Charlie, and he had me enter a contractual agreement where my safety came at a price: a chance for Mark to show Charlie his place in the world.

He did that today. He doesn’t need me anymore, and in his eyes, I don’t need him.

It’s only a matter of time. He might keep me around a bit longer, enjoying me as a convenient plaything, but eventually, the dust will settle. As for me? I carry his child and feelings I can’t admit. The longer I stay, the more it’ll hurt.

I can't stay here, I can't let him use me until he inevitably discards me like a broken toy. It’s better to leave before he breaks my heart and inevitably, our child’s heart. It’s best he never finds out.

***

The next morning, I stayed in bed longer than usual. When I went down to inquire with the guards about where Mark might be, just so I could stay out of his mind, I learned, much to my surprise, that he had to go away to Atlanta for a last-minute overnight trip. They told me he left me a note.

I nod and run back to the room. I slept fitfully last night, considering ways to leave without causing a fuss. This morning feels like a gift from fate itself.

The note lies on the bedside table, beckoning to me like a siren's call. With a fluttering heart, I reach for it, my fingers trembling as I unfold the paper. Mark's elegant handwritingstares back at me, each stroke of the pen feeling like a chisel chipping away at the crumbling facade ofeverything being okay,that I've been desperately holding together.

Quinn,

Hope you’re feeling better. Had to leave for an urgent business meeting in Atlanta. Won't be back until tomorrow.

My heart sinks as I read those words, knowing that my window of opportunity is closing rapidly. If I want to leave without a trace, without giving Mark a chance to stop me or convince me to stay, I have to act fast.

Grabbing my bag and hurriedly stuffing in a few essentials, I pick up my phone and book a cab, waiting for immediate confirmation. I take one last look around the room that transformed from a prison to a sanctuary. The bed where Mark kissed me goodnight, the windows that framed a world I no longer belonged to, and the door that led to a life I had to leave behind.

I swallow the lump in my throat, steeling myself for what comes next. With one final glance at the note lying on the bedside table, I fold it carefully and tuck it into my pocket, a small memento of a chapter in my life that was as fleeting as it was intense.

As quietly as I can manage, I slip out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat of urgency. The mansion is eerily quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation of my departure.

The guards are stationed at their posts, their gazes sharp and unwavering. I offer them a small nod as I pass by, praying that they won’t stop me or, worse, alert Mark to my escape.

“Miss,” one of them intervenes. “Your bodyguard?”

“He’s waiting right outside with the car. I’m running late for a meeting,” I lie through my teeth. The guard nods, having no reason to believe I’m lying.

I rush out of the compound without looking back, right into the waiting cab I had booked moments earlier.

Chapter 22 - Mark

I reach home the next day, eager to see Quinn before doing anything else. Frowning, I check the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom—all empty.

I dial her bodyguard's number, pacing the length of the hallway. “Where the hell are you two?” I demand when he picks up. “What time will you be back?”

“Sir, we need to talk. I'm on my way in now.”

The line goes dead. I head downstairs as Dmitri steps through the front door, his expression grim. “Sir, Miss Desmond left yesterday without telling me. She tricked the guards and said I was waiting for her by the car. She hasn't returned since and isn't at her address. I checked. She's not picking up any calls either.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer, stealing the breath from my lungs. Shock ripples through me, quickly replaced by a searing mixture of anger and hurt. “She...left? Without a word?”

The bodyguard nods, an apology written on his face. “I'm sorry, Sir. She took all her things. We had no idea she'd—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, my mind reeling. How could she do this? After everything we've shared, everything I thought we had...

I dismiss Dmitri with a curt nod, barely registering his exit as my head drops into my hands. The betrayal stings like a knife to the heart. I thought we had something real, something deeper than just a business arrangement. Why would she leave without a trace?

She hasn’t been picking up calls? She isn’t at her address? Does she not want to be found? I run a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of it all. Did I misread the signs? Did I push too hard, too fast? The questions swirl in my mind, taunting me with their lack of answers. The thought of losing her, of never seeing her again, leaves me feeling hollow inside.

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