Page 35 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
I glared at him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You kidnapped me, threw me in a fuckin’ basement, starved me for days, and now you want a ‘thank you’?” The words tumbled out of my mouth in an angry rush, clipped and shaking.
“I didn’t starve you,” he said calmly. “You refused to eat. But then again, I’m not surprised by your manipulation.”
Manipulation?My scowl deepened, rage flashing in my eyes. “You’re a monster.”
“Maybe. But so is your father,” he said, a glint of anger creeping into his tone.
“Then why don’t you go after him like a man?” I snapped, my voice sharp and unapologetic. “He’s the one you want, isn’t he? Why drag me into this? Why make me suffer forhiscrimes?!” My voice cracked, and I felt the nasty sting of tears in my eyes.
He was silent for a moment, his gaze pinned on me like a hook to a fish.
“You know what I think?” I continued, fighting back my eyes. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re afraid to face my father, so instead, you chose to face me.”
Still nothing. Not a single word.
His silence infuriated me, fueled my rage to the point where I found myself struggling to stand. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Hmm?” I rose to my feet, my chest rising and falling. “Say something, goddammit!”
Yulian just sat there, exuding an air of confidence and composure, like he was in total control. His expression was blank, with no signs of emotion at all. Not anger. Not guilt. Not even that twisted, self-satisfied smirk of his. Nothing.
And God, I hated how calm he was, how his silence made me feel stupid.
Then I felt it—that wave of nausea that washed over me like a flood. My hand darted upward and covered my mouth, my eyes scanning the room for the bathroom door.
The moment I spotted it, I bolted, footsteps pounding against the marble floor. I pushed the door open and rushed to dip my face in the sparkling clean toilet seat. My fingers gripped the edge of the seat, my eyes bulging out as I vomited what little food was in my belly.
Once done, the headache returned, forcing my eyes shut. I flushed the toilet, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and sat on the cool floor, back against the wall.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
I managed to rise, walked to the sink, and rinsed my mouth before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a shadow of myself—pale skin, cracked lips, swollen eyes, and a tangled mess of hair.
It was horrific seeing how much weight I’d lost—how glaring my collarbone had become. One look at me, and anyone could tell I was malnourished—hell, they might even mistake me for a cancer patient.
I wiped the single tear that streamed down my cheek, my heart filled with nothing but pain and anger.
My head still hurt, and my waist was killing me. I felt dizzy and desperately needed to lie down. With my fingers digging into my temples in a massaging motion, I headed out of the bathroom.
Yulian was by now already on his feet, and when he looked at me, I could swear that I saw a glimpse of concern in his eyes. Just a glimpse.
I staggered, barely making it to the bed when he reached out, as if to help.
“Don’t touch me!” I snarled, slapping off his hand.
One step further, and I was already crashing to the floor, lightheaded. Luckily for me, Yulian had nice reflexes. His hand snapped out and grabbed me by the wrist, then pulled me to himself.
I was so dizzy that I could hardly stand—it felt like the whole room was spinning. My breath was shallow, my eyelids too heavy to open. Yulian’s voice echoed in my head, as if anchoring me to reality. His tone was tinged with traces of something that, if I didn’t know better, I’d call concern.
I collapsed into his body, my head resting on his broad chest. I felt his arms around me, protective and strong.
And just like that, I passed out. Again.
Chapter 14 – Yulian
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh on her. Now she’s sick, lying asleep in the hospital bed. For the first time in a long while, I felt this gnawing pit in my stomach—guilt.
Impossible.
I dealt with that weak part of me decades ago—there was no way in hell that I was feeling guilty for punishing the enemy’s daughter. She had it coming with that sharp tongue of hers; her father had it coming.
