Page 17 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
I think about Logan.
God, Logan.
I remember the time I told him—just once, offhandedly—that I was being bullied in middle school. I didn’t mean for him to do anything. Just wanted to talk. To vent. But the next morning, he showed up at my school, stormed into my classroom, and told every single kid who made my life hell that if they so much as looked at me wrong again, he’d make them regret it.
He got arrested. Of course he did. But the bullying stopped.
After that, I was respected.
That was Logan. Messy. Reckless. Ruined in so many ways. But loyal in the ways that mattered. He wasn’t always around, but when I needed him—reallyneeded him—he showed up.
Now it’s my turn.
It doesn’t matter that this high road I’m about to take feels like a straight walk into a cage.
It doesn’t matter that it’s permanent.
It doesn’t matter that I’ll never get my old life back.
If it means keeping Logan alive…I’ll do it.
I lift my chin, wipe my tears, and meet Adrian’s eyes. “I’ll marry you.”
His lips twitch into a slow, satisfied smile. Like he’s just claimed a prize he’s been chasing for years.
“Good.”
“But not tonight,” I rush. “Please. I need to catch my breath. I need my friends. I need—”
“Then tomorrow,” he says.
“Okay.”
“We’ll get married tomorrow,” he affirms. “Pack your bags. I’m moving you out of this hellhole.”
Then he turns and walks to the door, calm as ever, like we just talked about the weather. He doesn’t even glance back.
The door slams shut behind him.
And I collapse back onto the floor.
The silence crashes over me like a wave, and all I can do is sit there, knees to my chest, staring at the front door.
My voice is gone. My thoughts are spinning. My future—whatever it was—is over.
I’m getting married tomorrow.
To a monster.
Chapter 4 – Adrian
I step out of Jennie’s apartment and slide into the backseat.
Zalar starts the engine without saying a word. He never asks questions. That’s why I keep him close.
The drive is silent.
I stare out the window, jaw tight, the streets blurring past like static. The only sound is the hum of the tires and the faint crackle of the radio we never use.
