Page 13 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
By now, I was already almost at the front door with no exit plan or any idea where the hell I was going. It was stupid and impulsive.
I yelled, arms and legs flailing in the air, when two strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
“Get over here!”
I felt his grip tighten.
“Stop resisting,” he strained, lifting me off the ground.
I slammed the back of my head into his face, and I could swear I heard his nose crack.
“Argh—bitch!” He dropped me and staggered backward. “Fuck, she broke my nose.”
Yep. It did crack.
I turned around, and there he was, glaring at me with a hand over his bleeding nose. His eyes were blazing with fury, and his fingers curled into a fist at his side. For some reason, I froze, rooted to the ground.
The other guy wiped the soup on his face and cast a stern glare at me, the kind that said,You’re dead now.
Great, you’ve successfully pissed them off,said that voice of fear.I hope the hounds are hungry ’cause dinner is surely you tonight.
At this point, I was confused; I didn’t know whether to apologize or just stare back at them.
I watched the expression on their faces shift from anger to reverence within a split second. I couldn’t understand why until I smelled that familiar scent—the expensive cologne.
Shit. Things just moved from bad to worse.
“Leave us,” he said from behind me, his thick voice sending a chill threading through my veins.
They left instantly without a moment of hesitation, although their angry eyes told me this was far from over. I stepped away from the door and didn’t stop until I reached the window. A glance downward made my head spin—this room was far too high up. Jumping would be suicide.
I turned around, locking eyes with him as he moved closer. Now, I got a good look at him: jet-black hair, cut short and slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his hand through it all day.
His steel-gray eyes, cold and calculating, pierced mine in a way that made my breath catch in my throat. His face was sharp and sculpted, with a shadow of stubble, and a lean, coiled frame that could intimidate anyone.
He wore the most unreadable expression I’d ever seen. Cold. Too cold. He looked like a man who’d taken more lives than I dared imagine, and that only accentuated my fear.
His footsteps were deliberately slow, as if he was savoring the fear oozing from me. I gripped the edge of the nearest table, my jaw tightening as he approached me.
Everything about this man screamed “danger.” And now all I could do was wonder what he’d do to me. But as scary as he was, I wasn’t going to let him take me without a fight. I’d rather jump out the window and fall splat than let this perv touch a hair on me.
He stopped in front of me, looked back at the shattered plates and the soup spilled on the floor. “That was supposed to be your dinner,” he said, calm and collected.
I swallowed hard and replied through gritted teeth, “I’m not hungry.”
He was silent, but those cold eyes never left my face. “I take you out of the dungeon, put you in a room fit for royalty, and you repay me with what…? Violence?”
I paused for a moment, then answered as savagely as I could, “What were you expecting, a ‘thank you’?” The arrogance and sarcasm in my tone couldn’t be more glaring.
Girl, shut your mouth,that voice of fear whispered in my head.You’re gonna get us killed.
His eyes narrowed by a fraction, and he stepped closer.
Oh, shit. Way to go, Wren. That wasn’t a dumb move at all.
“What arrogance,” he said, his gaze unwavering.
“Arrogance?” My face contorted into a frown. “You’rethe one who had your men bring me intoyourroom so you could….” I paused mid-sentence, eyes darting toward the bed.
