Page 48 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva

I grip the back of the couch to steady myself. “But…I thought— I thought you said he was safe.” My heart lurches, twisting with dread. “They’re going to try to kill him,” I whisper. “They’re going to find him and—”

Adrian cuts me off with a sharp look, his voice colder than the marble floor beneath our feet. “You should be worrying about yourself first.”

I stare at him, breath hitching. “What?”

He steps closer, slow and deliberate. “Whoever’s coming for Logan won’t stop at him. They’ll use whatever they can to find him. And if they know about you—which I’m sure they have—they won’t care that you’re wearing my ring. In fact….” He leans in slightly, eyes flicking to my hand. “It might make the hunt even sweeter for them.”

“I don’t care,” I snap, my voice trembling. “I don’t care what mafia is after him or what target is on my back. You need to keep Logan safe. That’s why I married you, Adrian. That was the deal.”

His eyes narrow slightly, then soften in the quietest, most dangerous way. “Nothing will happen to Logan,” he says, firm and low. “I gave you my word. And I don’t break my word.”

I let out a shaky breath, my chest tight with fear and fury. “So what now? What am I supposed to do—just sit around while some psychopaths come looking for my brother? For me?”

Adrian steps closer, his presence consuming. “No. You’re supposed to relax.” He brushes a hand down my arm, slow and possessive. “Let me do what I do. I’ll die before I let anything happen to you.”

It’s a promise that should soothe me, but it doesn’t—not completely.

“Things will tighten around here,” he continues. “More guards. More restrictions. And your phone stays off.”

“What?” My voice rises. “Why? You just gave it back—”

“Because the more reachable you are, the more traceable you become. I don’t want your signal pinging somewhere and leading them straight to you.”

I stare at him, my nails digging into my palms. “So I’m supposed to live like a prisoner now?”

Adrian’s lips twitch, a shadow of something unreadable crossing his face. “No,moya printsessa. You live like a queen. A well-protected one.”

I turn away before he sees the heat of tears threatening again. I don’t want protection that feels like chains. But I don’t want to lose Logan either.

And Adrian knows that.

***

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and I embrace nighttime so easily that I don’t even remember falling asleep.

After Adrian told me about the bounty, I stayed curled on my side for what felt like hours, staring at the wall. My mind was a storm of fear, fury, and confusion—Logan in danger again, my own life now a target, and Adrian acting like both my protector and my prison warden. Eventually, exhaustion won. My body gave up even when my thoughts wouldn’t.

The room is dark when I stir. A strange heaviness sits on my chest, like something’s pressing down on me. At first, I think it’s a dream. But then I open my eyes.

And I see him.

Adrian.

He’s in the armchair beside the bed, unmoving, asleep. I’m surprised to see him because after that first night, he stayed in the guest room, giving up his room for me.

His large frame slouched slightly, head resting against the side, one ankle crossed over his knee. The soft light from the hallway bleeds in through the slightly ajar door and glints off something in his lap.

A gun.

There’s a gun in his lap.

I blink hard, trying to process. He stayed. Sat there all night. Watching me. Guarding me. It should be unsettling, and maybe it is—but what’s worse is how my chest tightens with something I don’t want to name. Something dangerously close to warmth.

Why does he care this much? Why does a man who kidnapped me, married me by force, and threatened to kill my brother now look like he hasn’t slept in days just to make sure I’m safe?

I sit up quietly, my bare feet brushing against the soft rug beside the bed. I move slowly, not wanting to wake him.

That’s when I see it.