Page 28 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
Anton had told me of his plans to settle down with his high school sweetheart. And although I thought having a wife at his young age would only distract him, I couldn’t help but admire his willingness to take on the responsibility of a family.
Like I said, the kid knew what he wanted out of life; he knew where he was headed.
The room fell silent for a moment until Pakhan Artem spoke, “I know you’re grieving. Especially you, Ian.” His gaze flickered in my direction. “But we cannot answer this with war. Not yet. We’d only be playing their game. If you can set your grievances aside, you’ll see that acting on impulse is exactly what they want us to do.”
I stillhadn’tsaid a single word since the beginning of this meeting. I just sat there, planning my next move. Pakhan Artem was right.
They killed Anton so I’d get upset and react without thinking. Those spineless pigs must already have a plan in motion to counter our attacks should we decide to play their game.
Right now, a good number of us were pissed, and nothing good ever came from acting based on emotions—in our case, fury.
It was a fuckin’ trap.
Anton would never advise me to respond with war. No. He’d sit down and think of more subtle ways to cripple the enemy without moving a muscle.
Pakhan Artem continued, “For now, we hold. We wait—hit them when and where they least expect.”
And just like that, a lightbulb lit up in my head—an idea. The perfect one. While the others were discussing the Pakhan’s orders, I was busy cooking up something that would shake Marco Moretti’s empire.
Anton was like a son to me, and Marco took him. He started this fight; now I’d finish it. But first, I’d go after the one thing he valued that wasn’t already hidden behind bulletproof glass.
Ester.
A son for a daughter. It seemed fair.
I had no intentions of killing the girl, but I sure had a plan for her, a really good one.
That night, at the gala, I saw it in her eyes when I revealed my identity—absolute fear. She knew who I was and what I was capable of.
Marco poked the bear; he started this fire. And now, it was time he felt the heat.
***
Later that night, while in my office, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, Maxim joined me quietly. I watched the breathtaking view of the city outside—tall buildings with twinkling lights and the landscape bathed in the moon’s ethereal glow.
“Everything you asked for.” He handed me a manila folder.
I accepted it.
He continued, “Security rotations, perimeter cameras. Staff names, estate layout. It’s all in there. Her room’s on the east wing, top floor. Guarded by two lazy assholes.”
“Good,” I said, flipping through the details with the focus of a man already two steps ahead.
I was going to take her, Ester. And nothing was going to stand in my way. This was personal now, in ways I wasn’t ready to admit yet.
By the time the sun set tomorrow, Ester would no longer be Moretti’s daughter.
She’d be my little trophy.
Chapter 11 – Ester
I glanced at the silver watch around my wrist. The night was almost over. Thank God.
Just a little while longer, and I’d be out of here. It was Dad’s idea to tag along, to showcase myself as his proud daughter. He’d personally bought the dress I had on tonight—a silver-gray gown, structured and uncomfortably fitted.
I could hardly breathe in this, considering how tightly it hugged me like a second skin. I was the center of attention tonight; all eyes were on me, and heads turned as I moved through the crowd of impeccably dressed men and women.
That was exactly what Dad wanted—for me to draw attention to myself. He didn’t give a shit how uncomfortable it made me feel. All he cared about was his daughter being seen. The more those powerful men drooled over me, the more my family name stuck in their heads.
