Page 15 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
“None of this would’ve happened if that little shutterbug didn’t take those photos and post them on her blog,” Luka added, then paused a bit, his eyes darting toward me. “Do you believe her? Do you believe she’s innocent?”
I stopped in my tracks, catching the faint sound of soft footsteps. It was as though someone was tiptoeing, like their movement was cautious. My eyes squinted, brows knitting together.
Luka stopped beside me, his voice dropping lower than average. “What is it?”
I lifted my hand in the air, a gesture that told him to speak no further. He obeyed, watching me in silence, his eyes tracing my gaze.
A few paces ahead, she rounded a corner with her back against us, her movement quiet and cautious. She looked around, as if to be sure there were no hidden cameras or watchful eyes in the hallway. And the moment she turned in our direction, she flinched, her breath catching in her throat.
Wren froze, wide-eyed, her chest heaving slowly as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. Her hand flew into her hair, fingers tucking back the same golden lock three times in a row. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment before raising her head again.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Luka began, chuckling. “Isn’t it the little shutterbug who almost cost us a fortune?”
She knitted her brows and clenched her jaw. “It’s easier to put the blame on the little shutterbug than face your own screw-ups. But then again, I guess accountability isn’t really your strong suit, now is it?” Her voice was low but audible.
Luka’s cocky grin gradually faded, his expression darkening by the second. “You should watch your tongue, shutterbug. People break just as easily as cameras do.”
His threat was crystal clear, hinting at the fact she’d struck a nerve, something she’d proven to be very good at.
“It’s okay.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Not everyone can handle the truth.”
His face contorted into a frown. “Say that again, I dare you.” He drew closer.
“Enough,” I said softly, gripping his arm before he could take another step.
He stopped, seething with a clenched jaw.
“Leave us,” I ordered him, calm and polite.
Luka’s scowl deepened, and he hesitated for a short while before walking away with a bruised ego.
“Your friend has some serious anger issues,” she said, a faint, self-satisfied grin playing on her lips as she watched him leave. Facing me, she added, “I know a therapist downtown.”
I approached her, my eyes unreadable, my gaze unwavering. “Careful with the sharp tongue of yours. Wit is a sharp blade, but one wrong cut, and you’ll bleed dry.” I stopped in front of her.
She lifted her head to face me, pausing for a while. “When do I get to leave?” she asked, holding my gaze, her throat wobbling as she swallowed hard.
“You leave if I decide to let you go.” I picked up my pace, moving in the same direction as Luka.
“Wait—if?” There was a strain in her voice that hinted at her displeasure.
I couldn’t care less.
Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she rushed behind me, struggling to catch up. “That wasn’t the agreement. You said you’d let me go when the investigation was over!”
“Agreement?” I scoffed, not slowing down.
“Yes,” she shot back, her voice sharp with conviction. “Or are you not a man of your word?”
That question stopped me cold.
My jaw tightened, and I turned around to face her, watching the glimpse of fear flickering in her gaze.
“Let’s get one thing straight…Wren,” I began, eyes boring into hers. “You’re my prisoner. You’re the girl who recklessly stumbled into my world, exposed my operations, and put a giant bullseye on my back.”
She swallowed hard again, biting the inside of her cheek.
“Thereisno agreement. There’s only what I say there is, and right now, I’m saying you’re not going anywhere,” I declared, my voice high and cutting.
