Page 42 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
I clenched my jaw, massaging my ribcage.
“That wound is healed, Yulian,” she declared, her gaze dropping to my ribs. “Whatever pain you feel, it’s all in your head. And it’ll only get worse if you don’t face what you’re running from.”
“I’m not running from anything!” I growled, nearly snapping at her.
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “I know this because I spent more than half my life running, too.”
I squeezed against the glass in my hand until it cracked, my face contorted into a frown.
“It’s just a memory, Yulian,” she said. “Let it in.”
It was awkward that Ester was the one schooling me about facing my past, the same Ester who almost ran away just a few hours ago.
As much as it pained me to admit, she was right. It was time I let those memories back in. Perhaps I’d feel better after this trip down memory lane.
It was supposed to be a simple trip—just me and my best friend Hector—hunting in the wild as we used to. But this time, my younger sister, Maria, decided to tag along and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
My sister was stubborn and only did what she wanted, regardless of what anyone said or thought about it. At fourteen, she already knew how to handle the rifle, how to hunt, but I just didn’t like her endangering her life.
However, that afternoon, Maria’s mind was made up, and there was nothing that I could’ve done or said thatwould’ve convinced her otherwise. Hector thought it was a great idea to have her come with us, and so it was.
We were out in the snow heading toward our usual spot, the wind howling in our ears. I stopped in my tracks, observing the whistling breeze, the surrounding mountains, and the birds in the sky.
“I think we should turn back,” I said, scanning the snow-covered environment. “There’s a storm coming.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Hector said, his voice deep and venomous.
I turned around, thinking this was one of his jokes, only to find him standing with his gun aimed at me. “Hector…what’re you doing?”
“Drop your rifle,” he declared. “Both of you.”
“Hector, this isn’t funny,” Maria said, attempting to step forward.
Hector fired a bullet in the air, and she screamed in shock. “I said drop it!”
My sister and I tossed our weapons to the ground and threw our hands in the air.
“What is the meaning of this, Hector?” I demanded, pulling Maria behind me.
“Your family’s a lot of enemies, Ian. No hard feelings.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“No hard feelings? You’re my friend!” I hollered, my blood boiling with rage. “I trusted you, and you manipulated me!”
“Trust is for the weak!” he yelled at me. “Do you know how easy it was to be your friend, how difficult it was to keep up with your weak ass? I had to pretend every time I was around you just so I could get the mission.”
“Mission? What mission?” Maria asked, seething silently.
“Shut up, bitch! The grown-ups are talking,” he shunned her.
My fingers curled into fists, my eyes blazing with fury. “You’re a mole, aren’t you? You’re working for the Red Serpents.”
“Oh, you’re a genius. You finally figured it out,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks to you, I now have the information I need, meaning I no longer have any use for you.” He cocked his gun. “Orders are orders, Ian. You understand that. No hard feelings.”
Face to face with death, all I could think of was how to protect my sister and take that bastard down. But while I was thinking—strategizing—my sister bolted and speared into Hector, sending them both crashing to the ground.
He tossed her off him before she could attack him with her nails. That’s when I lunged at him, throwing heavy punches and kicks. We fought in the snow like two gladiators fighting to the death.
What I didn’t realize until it was too late was that when Hector had tossed my sister off him, she’d hit her head on a rock. I had struck the enemy down and battered his face with my bare hands when I caught a glimpse of her motionless body out of the side of my eye.
