Page 72 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

“Touch me again,” I drawled, “and I’ll break every bone in your hand before you can even blink.”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He backed away with a mutter of curses under his breath, something about “crazy pregnant bitches” as he staggered toward the door.

The whole café had gone quiet, looking back and forth between me and him, and back to me.

I didn’t even give a shit as I sat down again, shaking slightly at how wrong that could’ve gone if he hadn’t hurried off like a scaredy cat.

I didn’t need to guess where I’d learned that move.

Matvey.

He was rooted deep in every move and every reflex. Every part of me that reacted without thinking—it was all him. His voice in my head. His hands correcting mine. His smile when I finally got the angle of the wrist hold right.

Turned out the little training he gave me in the garden the other day actually stuck, even though neither of us took it too seriously at the time.

Just as I was catching my breath, the noises of the café returned, lowered chatter, some spoons clinking against mugs. Then the TV in the corner broke into breaking news, and I didn’t so much as glance at it until I heard the name Blake Carter—my father.

The anchor’s voice was dispassionate, serene, and sharp as she delivered the news. “He was last seen exiting his private estate just after dusk. Sources say there was no sign of forced entry, and security footage has been erased. Authorities are investigating what they’re calling a ‘targeted abduction.’ More to follow.”

My blood went cold instantly. I stared at the screen, frozen.

Dear God, no. This could not be happening.

But it was, and I guessed it would.

The final image appeared on the screen, my father’s picture accompanied by stark white lettering below it:Missing since last night.

The nausea churned in my stomach. I clutched the edge of the table to maintain balance, trying to force my hand to stop trembling.

I knew Matvey was responsible for whatever was going on, and I knew this was only his first move.

He was making a statement.

I’d drugged him and run away from home. Now, he wasn’t going to hold back on anything or spare anyone I cared about. That was his payback.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back in. Not now. I couldn’t lose it. I couldn’t break—not here. Not yet.

I groped for my bag and gripped it tight, fingers brushing over the envelope still within.

The ultrasound of our child. And in a moment, all the fear in me vanished.

I didn’t care what he did. I had to protect my child, and the only way to do that was by not going back.

My father agreed to this marriage with Matvey despite my protest, and I was no longer going to be the sacrificial lamb for their little games.

I didn’t care what Matvey did to him; that was his price to pay for the role he played in forcing me into this marriage.

And for Yulia’s death.

Chapter 20 – Matvey

The walls of the holding room throbbed with silence. The sort of silence that seeped slowly and heavily into the air like a cold war.

A single bulb buzzed softly above us, casting a faint yellow glow over the room. No windows. Nothing but concrete and shadows, and Blake Carter bound to a chair like a condemned prisoner awaiting sentence.

He looked older than I remembered.

He looked pale.