Page 1 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

Prologue – Matvey

Five Months Ago

The mansion still reeked of celebration.

The scent of champagne clung to the silk rugs, laughter echoed faintly through the walls, and somewhere in the ballroom, someone was still shouting a toast to my brother’s name.

But I couldn’t breathe in there.

The noise scratched at the inside of my skull, too loud, too forced. So I slipped away, leaving behind the glitter and heat of the wedding feast and moving through the quiet, empty hallways of Rurik’s estate. My footsteps were soft against the marble, muffled by the thick carpets and expensive silence.

My brother Rurik had gotten married to one of the Carters, Yulia, earlier today, and the mansion was still bustling with celebration.

I didn’t get it. I was bored out of my mind from the same discussion about love and building a family, but somehow my family still had the energy to spend on post-wedding parties and whatever they called the clinking of glasses and snacking on the leftover wedding cake.

Leaning on the wall behind me, I shook my head as more laughter seeped into the hallway. I honestly wondered if they were going to get tired so we could have dinner and retire to our rooms.

I needed a smoke, or I’d lose my fucking mind.

Fortunately, the laughter died out within minutes, and the hallway lay long and silent in front of me, lighted only by the muted flames of old-style sconces. I drew my hand over my face, the vodka buzz numbing the pain of the night, when I caught motion in my peripheral vision.

Yulia.

She stood stock-still outside the bedroom she now shared with Rurik—or was meant to, still in her ivory wedding gown. Her fists were clenched at her hips, fingers twisted so hard the skin went white. Her wavy brunette hair was pulled back, but a few loose strands had escaped, curling around her face in gentle waves that didn’t suit the set of her jaw or the bland, almost icy expression in her eyes.

I opened my mouth to congratulate her on becoming a Yezhov, but a sound cut through, and I trailed off.

It was a soft moan.

Then laughter, followed by the sound of skin clapping against each other.

The door was open just enough to let the sounds leak through—laughter, the rhythmic creak of a bed, and Rurik’s groans mixing with feminine moans.

I froze, something cold slithering in my guts.

Yulia didn’t flinch.

She simply gazed at the door as if it were a painting that she had learned and memorized to despise.

“Yulia,” I whispered, low and gentle as if anything louder could shatter her. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes watered, her lips trembling with an emotion that was worse than pain. Betrayal. The sadness on her face made my chest tighten, and my heart began to race like it would explode.

JesusfuckingChrist.

It was their wedding night. Rurik could’ve at least waited another day or taken his whore out if he wanted to fuck a woman that wasn’t his wife so badly.

Rurik and Yulia’s marriage was arranged for the sake of an alliance. Arranged marriages were everything in the mafia, and Rurik, as much as he hated the idea of it, couldn’t oppose.

Still, he was an asshole for pulling this shitty stunt on his wife. She was also forced into this.

“Yulia,” I whispered again, watching her for a reaction.

She turned slowly.

Her green eyes met mine, dry but bloodshot, and the corner of her mouth twisted into something that was not a smile. Not quite. The sort of face people make when they’ve already screamed themselves hoarse.

She shook her head and her lips curled in a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m…okay.”