Page 91 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

Despite her pleas, some debts never truly disappeared.

Quietly, I helped her to her feet and led us out of the stuffy room.

Her breathing slowed, but she was still shaking. Walking down the dark corridor, Zoella curled into me, disregarding everything else.

Her fingers twitched against my shirt, like she needed it to anchor her, and I let her hold on, tightening my arms around her.

I looked back at the doors closing.

Making a decision on my next course of action against Rurik was inevitable. Even if I showed him a sliver of mercy by letting him breathe tonight, the consequences were far from being over.

Chapter 27 – Zoella

Six Months Later

Come on, faster.

I saw sunlight pouring through the windows, catching in her hair, and highlighting each strand like golden-honey thread. We were much younger and very unaware of the true evil this world nurtured.

We lay on the living room floor, our legs kicking in the air, giggling over silly nonsense no one else could understand. She drew stars on my arms with her glitter pen and said they’d protect me when she couldn’t. I believed her. I always did.

After all, whether we went through a terrible fight or even got close enough to pull each other’s hair or scratch our eyes out, it was always Yulia and me in the end.

She snuck me cookies before dinner, pressed a finger to her lips like we were part of some spy mission. And when it rained, she grabbed my hand, and we ran outside barefoot, spinning in the downpour like wild things with no fear.

Just our laughter ringing out.

Just her voice calling,“Come on, faster!”and my heart racing to keep up.

Then, she was no longer there, almost like she vanished. I raced in the darkness, unable to see anything or anyone.

“Yulia?”

My frightened voice echoed in the darkness, and although I wanted to stop and catch my breath, my legs refused to pause. They just kept moving, running and running, as if something was chasing me. I saw the looming shadows closing in and felt a long-lasting sense of foreboding.

In an instant, the darkness flickered, brightening with each second as orange and yellow flames appeared. What was once warm became scorching, exceeding a thousand degrees.

It felt like I was slowly melting away, and the only thing I could scream was, “Help!”

But no one heard. No one came.

And then—

Thunder cracked.

I jerked awake, throwing a hand to my heaving chest. The room flashed white from lightning streaks outside. It was a real storm, gray and dark, ripping the sky wide open. And Yulia was gone.

The wind rattled the windows like fists pounding to be let in, and thunder rolled through the house in heavy, stubborn waves. I gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white, breathing shallow.

Another sharp crack of lightning tore the sky in half, bathing the room in electric light for a second before darkness swallowed it whole again.

My baby kicked hard against my stomach. Six months later, and its kick was a lot stronger than ever.

Each passing month, my movements had become heavier, and my breathing had become more labored. But it wasn’t my baby’s weight that made sleep impossible.

It was the dreams—no, nightmares. They were haunting. Sometimes, like tonight, it always ended with the flames engulfing me. Other times, I just kept running.

But each night, Yulia came back, either as a child or an adult. Some nightmares weren’t completely traumatizing.