Page 43 of Forced Bratva Hostage

What the fuck?

Hurriedly, I pull my gun from the side holster and kneel next to Marcus, pressing my fingers to his neck to check if he’s still alive.

He is.

His heart is beating slowly, with a steady rhythm.

“Marcus?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.

I lean over to check on David, too, and spot the note tucked just beneath his jacket.

My heart is racing as I tug it out and unfold it, my eyes darting everywhere, expecting an ambush.

But the note is written in a familiar, neat cursive.

Tatiana’s handwriting. It has the same style she used when she signed our marriage certificate.

To whoever reads this:

I’m sorry I had to drug them, but there was no other way to get past. It’s just a few sleeping pills that I put in their water bottles. They will be fine. I promise they’ll wake up. I didn’t use too much or anything.

T.

I smirk as I read it for a second time.

She drugged my guards, but was soft-hearted enough to leave a note so that no one worried about what had happened to them. She felt guilty for doing it. That’s amusing.

Standing up, I slide the gun back into its holster and shake my head. “What am I going to do with this girl?” I sigh.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and open the security camera app. Searching through footage of the night, I get to the part where she snuck out the back door. She takes the keys from Marcus, heads out to the black SUV, and climbs in. She drives out of the estate in his car, and the guards at the front think it’s him, opening up the gate without checking.

Dammit.

So, she left twenty minutes ago.

I flick to the tracking app to locate the SUV. While it’s loading, I hurry to my car and climb inside.

She’s got a head start, but I know where she is, and I can catch up easily.

At the gate, leaving the mansion, I stop and inform the guards about what has happened and tell them to go and help David and Marcus, to carry them to a bed or something, because if they stay like that all night, they’re going to wake up hurting.

Then I follow the tracker into town, towards one of the popular clubs on main street. So she is going dancing, after all, with or without my permission.

It makes me smile to know that she refuses to let anyone hold her back. Even as a prisoner under my control, I actually don’t seem to have much control over her at all.

She finally came up with an idea that worked for her escape, and she carried it out perfectly.

I’ve been trying to decide if I should go straight over to her and let her know she’s been caught, or if I should watch her for a while first. By the time I get to the club and park outside, I’ve made the choice. I want to watch her and figure out what she’s up to.

She might be here to dance, but I imagine she’s here for other reasons, too, and it might benefit me to know what they are.

Tatiana is standing at the bar, looking a bit tense. She looks out of place and stiff. She leans over the bar counter to shout over the music so that the barman can hear her. He nods and leaves to get her whatever drink she ordered.

From a corner on the other side of the bar, I have my eyes glued to her. It’s loud in here, with bass vibrating through the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own. The dance floor is packed, and every now and then, the DJ shoots a thick cloud of smoke over the crowd, which catches the lights and lasers and creates quite a show.

The barman sets two drinks in front of Tatiana, and my chest tightens, my eyes start darting around to find whoever she is with.

But to my relief, she picks up the one drink, which turns out to be a shot of something, and downs it, then takes the other drink and sips it. I order a drink and continue to watch her.

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