Page 27 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
I didn’t care how pissed she was; this was the only way to save her life.
“Val has every right to take her as his wife,” Ilya said to the others. “Making her a Tarasov automatically exonerates her from all crimes against the Bratva.”
Damien, with a scowl on his face, said, “But it also makes her one of us. If she becomes one with Val in holy matrimony, she gets access to all the privileges that come with that title.”
Ilya yanked up an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Silence.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming on the table as I watched them murmur amongst themselves. They didn’t seem pleased with my decision, but there was nothing they could do about it. My mind was made up.
Akim cleared his throat and edged closer, placing both hands on the table. “Valerian Tarasov,” he began, his eyes pinned on me. “I advise against this plan of yours.” His gaze darted toward Wren, then back to me. “You know nothing about her, and something tells me she will not fit in.”
I looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “Marrying her ismydecision and my decision only.”
“Yes, but that photo she uploaded on the internet didn’t only affect you; it affected the business,” Sergie added. “Are you willing to risk all that we stand for just to save some pretty whore?”
My face tightened into a frown, fingers clenched into fists on both hands. “You will watch the way you address my future wife.” I leaned in, seething in silence. “Iwillnot tolerate anydisrespect from any of you. I’ve made my choice, and that is final.”
They hated the way I spoke to them, the way I defended the woman they’d condemned to death. Akim and the others loved being feared and revered. They basked in their power and in how no one below their ranks dared question their judgment.
The fact that I refused to follow their rules was enough to put me in their bad books. But I couldn’t care less. I wouldn’t let a couple of bitter old men control my life and dictate my every move.
Tension was thick in the air, with intense glares directed at me as if I cared. They exchanged looks among themselves, whispering words I didn’t bother to listen to.
My eyes shot in her direction as she stood sentinel with a locked jaw and a deep scowl on her face.
“Alright. It’s settled then,” Ilya announced, his gaze flicking across our faces. “Valarian will marry the girl.” His voice was laced with finality, leaving no room for arguments.
The council didn’t like it, but they had no choice but to accept it.
In a single file, they all exited the room after the meeting was over. Ilya was the last to leave, and he was the only one who beamed a smile at my wife-to-be. He didn’t speak to her, but the grin on his face spoke volumes.
When he closed the door behind him, she snapped, unleashing all that pent-up anger.
“How could you!” Wren barked, rushing toward my chair, eyes blazing with fury. “How could you suggest wasting my life in a marriage that we both know will never work?!”
“It’s the only way to keep you from harm. Believe me, you have no idea what these men are capable of,” I replied, calm as always.
She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “I wouldn’t be in harm’s way in the first place if you hadn’t kidnapped me!” Her voice rose with each syllable, and on the last, she slammed her palm on the table.
I didn’t respond, just watched her express her rage.
“I was fine on my own until you showed up and ruined everything.” Her hands sliced through the air as she spoke, her tone filled with frustration.
My gaze was unwavering, my stone-cold heart thawing at the pain I saw in her eyes.
She continued, “Ever since our paths crossed, I’ve had to survive things that I never should’ve. You locked me up in a fuckin’ dungeon, starved me, and bound my wrists behind my back.”
I watched the words pour out of her in an angry rush.
“You kept me here against my will despite knowing that I was innocent and had no ill intentions when I posted that stupid picture.” She pointed an accusing finger at me. Literally. “Because of you, I almost got killed. I had a gun to my face, Val, a fuckin’ gun!” Her voice echoed through the room.
Still didn’t respond. What could I say at this point? Everything she spat was true.
Her chest rose and fell with slow breaths, her voice dropping somewhere above a whisper. “And now, I was forced to watch a bunch of mean old men debate whether I deserved to live or die.” She scoffed, wiping an invisible tear with the back of her hand.
She drew closer, her eyes locking with mine, her voice a low whisper. “Do you know how it feels to stand in a room full of devils in suits and watch them talk about selling you off, like you’re nothing more than some piece of property on an auction block?”
