Page 20 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
It was quite unfortunate that I couldn’t let her go yet. And although she believed I was keeping her here against her will simply because I was some monster from the pit of hell, that wasn’t entirely true.
Wren was in more danger than she thought. The moment she uploaded that photo and put a target on my back, she exposed herself to threats from any mindless motherfucker in my world. That photo had sparked mixed reactions amongst my enemies.
As stupid as it might seem, there were idiots out there who would come after her, thinking she was somehow in cahoots with me. According to Luka, three guys had been spotted snooping around her apartment, asking questions about her, these past few days.
He did his digging, and the men weren’t in any way related to her. In fact, they were all members of different gangs.
Wren didn’t know this, but she was safer here with me than she was outside these walls. She created this mess for both of us, endangered my reputation, and put her own life at risk.
While she was ranting and bitching about how she hated it here and wanted to get back to her old life, I was busy trying to keep her alive.
Yet to her, I was the bad guy—I was the devil incarnate.
With everything that was happening right now, she wouldn’t survive a day without my protection. But she didn’t know this; that was why she wouldn’t stop running her mouth.
I could spell out the gravity of her situation, show her just how screwed her life was—just to watch the light drain from her eyes and revel in the silence when fear finally shut her the fuck up.
However, I wasn’t going to do that—for one simple reason. I enjoyed watching her rant. She was pretty but even prettier when pissed. Each time she lost her temper, her eyes would light up in a way that left me speechless.
It was interesting how someone as little as she was could have so much fire and spunk. That character was what drew me in like a moth to a flame. Let that fire keep burning, let her hatred for me grow stronger each day. None of that mattered to me—only her safety.
Why?
I wasn’t sure yet. All I knew was that I wouldn’t let any harm come to her. Gradually, I was starting to regard her as someone much more than just my prisoner. Maybe that was because deep down, I knew she ceased being my prisoner the second I realized she wasn’t what I thought she was, a spy.
My first instinct was to keep her safe, even if it meant her hating my guts. She wouldn’t be the first anyway, nor would she be the last.
I was seated in my study that cool evening, reviewing some files from last week. Reclined in my chair, I sipped the scotch in my hand, my eyes fixed on the laptop’s lit screen. The room was dimly lit, the scent of alcohol and aged paper wafting through the air.
My gaze flicked to the CCTV live footage playing on a TV hung on the wall beside the bookshelf. Something caught my attention, forcing me to take a closer look. And that’s when I saw it—the glitch.
Weird. That had never happened before. And although I thought that it was just a system glitch at first, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was wrong. I’d been in the game long enough to trust my instincts, and right now, my instincts were telling me that trouble had come knocking on my door.
Before I could even make a move, the power went out, plunging the whole mansion into utter darkness. I loved the dark—I thrived in it—but this was clearly an invasion. I was already on my feet when Luka barged into the study.
“Boss,” he called, his voice laced with urgency. “We might be under attack.”
Just then, rapid gunfire echoed in the hallway, loud and deafening.
“Shit,” Luka muttered, turning back with his guns drawn.
I pulled the drawer of my table, picked up my pistol, and headed out with only one person in mind. Wren.
“Boss, you should stay back, let the men handle this,” Luka said to me.
I ignored and stepped out into the hallway. Two of my men were already gunned down, blood pooling beneath them. My eyes narrowed, rage coiling in my chest. Someone had the effrontery to invademyhouse and killmymen. Some balls they had.
An armed assailant wearing a hockey mask rounded a corner. Unfortunately, I sighted him first and fired twice, one bullet to his knee, the other to his head.
“Sweep the house. Find out how many assassins were sent,” I ordered Luka, my voice calm even in the storm. “Take the workers to safety—women first. No casualties.”
“Got it.” He nodded. “And the shutterbug?”
I turned in the direction of her room. “Leave her to me.”
More gunshots echoed throughout the mansion, accompanied by screams and wails.
He was already in motion when I called out, “And Luka….”
