Page 19 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
His lips curled into a faint smirk. “You’re playing a really dangerous game here, shutterbug.”
“My name is Wren,” I corrected him, eyes boring into his.
He wore the sneer of a serpent but didn’t respond.
“The whole house might be afraid of you,” I said, voice laced with disdain. “But I am not.”
“Youshouldbe,” he replied, gentle and composed.
My heart sank into my stomach, breath caught in my throat. I clenched my jaw and leaned in, staring directly into the steel-gray eyes. “You’re not invincible.”
He stared back without a word, although his brows narrowed and his expression darkened. I held his gaze, ignoring the voices screaming in my head, telling me to get the hell out of his presence. For once, the voice of courage and that of fear agreed on one thing: that I leave immediately.
The air was thick with tension, and although my jailer’s scowl had deepened, something was flickering beneath the surface. I wasn’t sure what it was. But I was sure of what it wasn’t. Fury. It wasn’t fury. It was something much lighter. Intrigue, curiosity, maybe?
Girl, get the fuck outta here before things sprawl out of control and you lose your life.
I turned around and left, secretly glancing over my shoulder to be sure he wouldn’t launch an attack from behind. However, the truth was, as ruthless as he was, a move like that over a defenseless woman was beneath him.
I hurried up the staircase, rushed through the empty hallway, and returned to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I let out a deep sigh of relief, my back pressed against the door as I struggled to catch my breath. My heart was pounding like a drum, and my pulse was racing with my hand over my chest that was heaving.
That was close.
I slid all the way down to the floor, my hands flying into my hair.
That went well,I thought to myself, struggling to steady my heartbeat.
That was reckless,said the voice of fear.We could’ve gotten killed.
But the good thing was, things didn’t escalate, and I got out unscathed after giving him a piece of my mind.
Mission accomplished.
If you keep this up, we might not survive the next few days.
I heaved a sigh, closed my eyes, and drowned out that voice of fear.
Chapter 8 – Val
She had the kind of fire that burned so bright I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her. She had guts and spunk enough to catch my attention and leave me amused. No woman had stood up to me the way that she did, despite knowing I could end her life at any given time.
I realized just by observing her that bravery wasn’t the absence of fear. No. It was feeling helpless and afraid but choosing to stand strong regardless. That was what my little shutterbug had done every single day since she was brought here.
Honestly, I should be pissed. I should put her in her place, but her courage, aura, and spunk were too powerful to ignore. She was different, and that difference was the reason she was still breathing.
Was I merciful to her because she was a woman? Perhaps. Because if the tables were turned, and she happened to be a man, he’d have already been dog food long before now. I’d killed more men for far lesser crimes than speaking to me out of tone.
Yet, I let her vent. I let her express her fury and frustration. Luka couldn’t understand why I was so delicate with the prisoner all the time. He believed the shutterbug should be taught a lesson so she’d learn to bridle her sharp tongue next time.
Well, he was just pissed at the way she spoke to me—fearless and arrogant. He wasn’t used to disrespectful women, and ever since their first banter a few days ago, he’d been gunning for her, waiting for when she’d cross the line. He already told me that he’d like to be the one to punish her whenever I was ready to give the order.
He wasn’t the only one who felt that way about Wren; more than a few of my men didn’t like her either. And that wasbecause she wasn’t the type to be bullied—she didn’t scare easily. Or at least, that was what they believed.
They called her “The Troublemaker.”
And honestly, her ability to make a name for herself in such a short period of time was really fascinating. She’d somehow managed to piss off every single one of the men; she’d crawled under their skin like a tick they couldn’t get off. Everyone was mad at her, but none could touch her. Not just because I forbade it, but because the little shutterbug would fight back like her life depended on it.
The more I studied her behavior, the more I realized there was a lot more to this photojournalism student than met the eye. Despite her hot head and hostility toward me and my men, she had a compassionate side, one I saw in how she addressed the maids. Clearly, her beef was with me and my foot soldiers; outside of that, she was just a regular girl in desperate need to return to her former life.
