Page 6 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
Finally, some serenity.
The dimly lit interior was thick with the scent of antiseptic and something older: ink, pain maybe. It was almost therapeutic in here, quiet and peaceful as opposed to the noise outside.
A young receptionist behind a desk across from me raised his head and met my gaze. His breath caught in his throat, a glint of unease flashing in his eyes. He rose to his feet—almost reflexively—and cleared his throat. “Evening. Walk-in?”
I nodded once.
“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the worn-out couch by the window. “The artist will be out shortly.”
I paced slowly, drinking in the intriguing artwork. My eyes shifted across the pieces, frame by frame. Some of it was violent, chaotic—like something ripped right out of someone’s nightmares. But there was also control—intent. Clean lines.
Honestly, whoever did these pieces had a steady hand and an even darker mind.
Beneath the scent of ink and antiseptic, I smelled something else—something better. Feminine. I took my eyes offthe walls, my gaze settling on the lithe figure stepping out of the inner room.
A young girl, no older than twenty-three, approached me, her boots clicking against the floor. She was dressed in black pants and a tank top that exposed her flat tummy. Her hair, black with streaks of electric purple, swayed as she moved, catching in the dim lights.
Her stormy gray eyes were fixed on me with an unreadable expression that had me intrigued. Ink curled over her arms, her collarbone, and vanished beneath her tank top. She looked at me, cold as ice, as if already mapping out my pressure points.
Her full lips, painted a shade of red, caught my eye, and I couldn’t help the faint smirk spreading across my face. I wasn’t the kind to notice women so easily. But there was something about this one that I just couldn’t place my finger on, something that made me pause.
My breath hitched the moment I saw her, and it was like time itself stood still so I could revel in her presence.
Perhaps it was her sharpness that pulled me in like steel to a magnet. Or it was the way she stared, like she could see through me. Or perhaps, it was just the fact that I wanted to stay here a little longer, to enjoy the peace and quiet this place offered.
I was so carried away that I didn’t realize she was already standing before me. At least not until she spoke. “You the walk-in?”
I blinked back to reality, watching her closely, replaying the sound of her voice in my head, low but edged with bite.
I nodded.
“Okay, good.” She gestured toward the chair. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Chapter 3 – Ester
There was something oddly off about this man, this lean Russian with a muscular frame and icy blue eyes that seemed to stare into my soul. His ash-blond hair, cropped short, caught in the soft light, his clean shave accentuating his angular features.
Darkness, enough to hide a shitload of garbage, was all I saw in those icy blue eyes. Beneath his calm exterior was something monstrous lurking in the stillness—something dangerous. So dangerous it stole my breath and quickened my pulse.
The way he looked at me, stared at me, was both attractive and disturbing at the same time, like he was trying to figure me out. I could sense the darkness around him. And not just because he was probably a Bratva leader based on his style and level of sophistication.
It takes one to know one.
Everything about him seemed expensive—his impeccably tailored black suit, his shoes, and even the scent of his cologne. The man was clearly no ordinary foot soldier. No. This one was high up the Bratva ranks, and I could almost see the souls of the men he’d sent to an early grave.
Something inside me had snapped the moment I set eyes on him. I knew he was trouble because danger and chaos often followed men like him wherever they went. They usually left death and destruction in their wake, and staying the fuck away from him would probably be the best choice right now.
However, despite the warning bells ringing in my head, the red flags and alarms, I still couldn’t help being drawn to him. A part of me wanted to refuse him on instinct, to come up with an excuse for why I wouldn’t be able to attend to him.
Unfortunately, my brain shut down, leaving me with no thoughts whatsoever.
I closed the distance between us, head arched to catch the blank expression on his face. I could’ve sworn that time stood still in that moment, like a scene straight out of a movie. I locked eyes with this total stranger, his aura—dark and negative—seeming to resonate with mine.
The mystery around him was like a flame, and I was the moth drawn to it.
With each passing second, the silence between us seemed to linger forever, and it was starting to feel super awkward. Gary, the receptionist behind the desk across from us, could sense it too because he wouldn’t take his eyes off both of us.
“You the walk-in?” I asked, finally finding my voice.
