Page 8 of Watched and Bred By the Bratva
Her brows pull tight. Her voice comes hoarse, dry. “You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’ll ever drink anything from you again.”
“Drink. Your. Tea.”
A silent battle stretches between us. I’ve never been more pleased to engage. That glare means her mind is sharp and her fire’s intact—good signs. “I’ll tell you everything after you drink,” I add, even. “That’s the third time I’ve said it. I don’t repeat myself. You’re in my home. You’re not leaving. Hurry up before I lose my patience.”
She can’t know I would lie down in the road and let her drive over me a hundred times before I’d lose patience with her. She lifts the cup anyway and drains it, eyes never leaving mine. The porcelain kisses the table with a deliberate clink.
“Before we begin,” I say, “one rule.”
Her stare sharpens. “What is the rule?”
“Honesty. When I ask a question, I want the truth. All of it.”
“What about you? Will you give me the truth?”
“Yes.” Nothing complicated. Just yes.
“Why did you bring me here?” She grinds the words like she’s pressing straw into gold.
“I wanted to give you your graduation present. A gift.”
“You couldn’t just leave it on the table like everyone else?”
“This one is hard to leave on a table.” I don’t wait for her to catch up. “Tell me, Zara—what do you want most in this world?”
Her brows knit so tight they almost meet. She bites her lip, searching for the trap. “To get my teaching license and start school in the fall. I want to be a good elementary teacher. That’s all.”
“I asked for the truth. That’s not all.” I hold her eyes. “What do you want? And this time, don’t lie.”
She searches my face. Silence stretches. A lift of one shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. That’s lie number two. Try again.”
“Maybe… a family.”
“Finally.” I nod once. “But it’s not just a family. You crave safety. Security. I’m here to give you both.”
Her eyes widen. “Both. You mean safety and security, right?”
“No.” I let it land. “I mean our baby. And your safety. And your security. I’ll give you all three.”
“You’re offering me safety,” she says carefully. She doesn’t mention the baby. “But I already feel unsafe.”
I rise and step closer. Not heat. Not pressure. My hand curves around her throat the lightest touch, a cold reminder: she’s in my web, not the other way around. Her fingers wrap my wrist, testing what I’ll allow.
“No more lying,” I grind out. “Listen, because this matters. We’re at a beginning, and it starts with truth.” My hand slides to her cheek, knuckles brushing once before I drop it. “You are safe. I would never hurt you. You know that.”
My fingertip traces the bow of her lip. “Do you know who I am?”
Her eyes widen; she shakes her head.
“You know who I am,” I growl softly. “And what I do.”
She squeaks, words tripping. “I know you’re Dimitri’s cousin. I’ve heard you’re Bratva, but I don’t know anything. Do you think I overheard something?”
“Relax, little one.” My voice stays even. “In my world we protect our women. We make sure no harm touches them. If someone gets through, we rain fire on the ones who dared.”
She swallows and lifts her chin. “You said truth. So give me the truth. Why did you bring me here?”
