Page 7 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

It’s not Rob who breaks the stagnating silence; it’s Hargrove. Unlike my brother, Donald’s expression is devoid of judgment, so I focus on him and nod.

“Oh, my dear… I’m sorry.”

I wince. That sentiment lands wrong, feels wrong, doesn’t fit. But Donald is looking at me like I’ma victim of some unspeakable sin.

Rob, meanwhile, is quivering with rage. I’ve seen this only once before—when he learned Isabella was gone. It’s as bad now as it was then.

It starts at his fists, knotting and unknotting.

Rises up to his flushed throat, his reddening cheeks.

His eyes tighten into thin slits. His jaw trembles like steel cables under massive tension.

“Rob,” I say, planting myself right in front of him and grabbing his shoulders, “I need you to calm down and listen to me. I—”

But it’s too little, too late. He explodes.

“He fuckingrapedyou!” Rob roars. He’s looking at me, but he’s not actually seeing me. “I’m going to fucking kill him! I’m going to find him and tear his fucking head right off his fucking shoulders and—”

I stand on my tiptoes and scream into his face, “It was consensual!”

That gets through. Something in Rob’s eyes splinters. I’m not sure if he wants to protect me… or if I’m the one who should be afraid of him now.

The only person who seems remotely level-headed at this moment is the billionaire media mogul who’s somehow gotten himself mixed up in the middle of all this.

“Robbie,” Hargrove says calmly, “take a breath, son. Flying off the handle is not going to help any of us bring this man to justice.”

Rob rips himself away from me and turns his back on both of us. His shoulders rise and fall with labored breathing.

“It happened before I knew who he was,” I stammer.

He’s silent, so I continue.

“Remember the day I was supposed to fly home? My flight got delayed. Aleks was on the same flight. We were delayed together and we… we…”

“Hit it off,” Hargrove offers modestly, though still with a curious glint in his eye.

“Yeah, that.” I nod. “He was nice and funny and—”

“A fucking rapist,” Rob snarls.

“No. He was just playing a role, but he really was those things. We had a… moment,” I say. “Then I fell asleep on the flight, and when I woke up, he was gone. The next time I saw him was at the house when I walked in with all you tied up.”

“That evil bastard,” Rob growls. “That fucking monster. How dare he touch you.How dare he.”

“We’ll find a way to make this work, Robbie,” Donald says.

I frown. “Isn’t the FBI doing everything they can?”

“The Bureau is dragging their feet,” Rob explains impatiently. “But there’s a free press in this country for a reason. Donald here has more than enough resources at his disposal to get us the attention we need.”

Hargrove gives me a smile. “It’s the one thing I refuse to be modest about.”

I shake my head. “Are the two of you saying what I think you’re saying? You want me to—”

“Do an interview,” Donald confirms. “An expose on what you suffered being abducted by Aleksandr Makarova, notorious Bratva don. Once the nation understands, the FBI will have all the justification they need to prioritize the case and take him down for good.”

“I’m not getting in front of a camera,” I say immediately.

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