Page 16 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

The little boy reminded me of myself when I was his age—small, brave, and far too fearless for his own good.

He spoke to me like a man, not a fourteen-year-old whose biggest problem should be getting good grades in school.

The fire in his eyes was identical to the one Leona had when she first arrived at the mansion.

I guess it was a family thing.

His fiery spirit and resilience were admirable; he snuck his way into my house, bypassed my security, and was only caught when he was already inside the building.

Micah had threatened to burn the place to the ground if the guards didn’t bring him to me. He had guts—no doubt about that. The boy tried to fight off the men forcing him out of the compound. They were bigger and stronger. But he was faster and smarter.

They chased him all around the mansion but couldn’t catch him. He was a minor, so lethal force was not an option. He weaved past my men like a striker on game day—his shouting and theatrical entrance pulled me from my chair.

And when I looked out the window, I saw them in the garden—my men chasing him like cats after a mouse. While he ran with calculated and strategic moves, he demanded an audience with the owner of the house.

My brows arched—intrigued by the kid’s audacity. At the time, I had no idea he was related to my wife, even though there was something about him that reminded me of her.

He put up a good show, making my guards run around like headless chickens. It was amusing to watch, and his resilience caught my attention. So, I called Simon, asked him to step in, and bring the boy to me.

Only then did Micah stop making a fool out of my men.

When he was brought to my office, he stood his ground—bold, unflinching, and unapologetic. He told me his name, saying he was here to save his sister. That was when it clicked. He was Leona’s younger brother.

There was fire in the kid, raw potential just waiting to be harnessed. And when he offered himself as a soldier on a battlefield he had no business being on, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by his spunk.

He was just as stubborn and strong-willed as his sister. What an interesting family!

A spirit as fiery as his could come in handy someday; he had all it took to be my weapon. With the right training and shaping, little Micah would fit in just fine. He was either a man trapped in a boy’s body or a boy forced to become a man at an early age.

Either way, he’d piqued my interest, and now I had my eyes on him. I was a hard man to please or impress. Yet, fourteen-year-old Micah and his older sister had somehow managed to leave me intrigued on our first encounter.

For kids raised in chaos and scars, Leona and Micah sure turned out fine. No thanks to that drunk who called himself a father. The idiot was not deserving of such offspring.

Perhaps in this case, the apples did fall far from the tree.

***

The black SUV pulled over by the fountain, and as Simon killed the engine, I pushed the door open and stepped outside. I straightened, wiping the fresh blood on my cuff, the scent of gunpowder still lingering over me like a cologne.

I’d just finished taking care of a situation down at the docks—these fucking idiots only learned the hard way. There was a mole amongst them who’d been selling sensitive Bratva information to a rival gang. Had to make an example of him.

But these greedy bastards just wouldn’t stop trying to play smart with me.

The idiot I took care of today was the third guy this week alone, and Simon was working on fishing out the others.

They’d face a worse fate than him, considering how upset I was that they couldn’t manage to stay loyal to a course.

The punishment for betrayal was severe: death. And they knew this; they knew the code like the back of their hand. Yet, some of them still deluded themselves into thinking they could rebel and get away with it.

Sometimes, it was a lot easier to train hounds than it was to train humans. Feed a hound once, and he’d be loyal to the very end. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about humans.

Kissed by the warm glow of the evening sun setting across the horizon, my shoes scuffed against the pavement as I headed into the building. Something caught my attention mid-stride, a movement near the garden.

A girl—no older than eight—with fiery red hair and skin as pale as porcelain. There was no one of that size in this house; her presence piqued my interest, and my eyes were pinned on her. She looked small, delicate—like one of those porcelain dolls that broke if you breathed wrong.

She crouched near the lavender bed, her tiny fingers moving slowly over the petals. The strange girl was humming a tune I didn’t recognize, and something about her pulled me in.

I headed toward her, my footsteps slow and deliberate. The girl still didn’t notice me; she continued humming to the plants. I towered over her, amused by her tiny frame and the free spirit she exuded.

A second layer, she looked up at me, pausing for a little while, her gaze unwavering.

At first, I thought she’d be afraid or at least startled by my sudden appearance. But she wasn’t. Instead, she did the unexpected—a little gesture that warmed my stone-cold heart.

She beamed at me, her small lips curling into a gorgeous smile. “You’re him, aren’t you?” Her voice was adorable, light, almost melodic.

I squinted, unsure of what she meant by that.

“My sister’s husband,” she clarified, rising to her feet, her stormy gray eyes glinting in the golden sun.

I didn’t respond—couldn’t, actually.

Everything about this little creature was fragile. She was sickly, pale, and thin, but bright in spirit.

“I’m Emmy,” she said, looking right at me. “What’s your name?”

My lips curled into a grin—a little wider than I’d intended. “Egor,” I answered.

“I picked this for Leo.” She held out a petal. “But you can have it. I’ll pick her another one.”

I took it without thinking, my hand almost swallowing the tiny thing.

She smiled—fragile and pure.

“Emmy!” Leona’s voice cut through the small moment of silence, her tone tinged with caution.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Leo, look, he accepted my flower,” she said, pointing in my direction.

Leona rushed over to her and dropped to her knees, her gaze sweeping over the little girl as if to be sure that I didn’t hurt her.

She really thought the worst of me.

“Are you okay?” she asked, smoothing Emmy’s hair backward, a glint of fear flickering in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she answered. So innocent. “Egor and I were just talking.”

Leona shot a quick glance up at my face, her arms protectively wrapped around her baby sister. “Emmy, we talked about this; you’re not supposed to be out here alone,” she said, her voice low and even.

“But I wasn’t alone. I was with your husband.”

Again, Leona glanced at me but said nothing.

“Besides, there are no monsters in the garden,” Emmy added and then looked up at me. “Right, Egor?”

I hesitated, taking a moment to appreciate the irony. “No, there aren’t.” My gaze shifted to Leona, eyes boring into hers.

Her throat wobbled as she swallowed hard. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” She picked her up and quietly walked away.

***

Later that night, I was in my office, buried in a ton of paperwork, when a knock on the door snapped me back to the present. Without asking who or even raising my head, I said, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of her perfume filled the room, invading my nostrils. Finally, I raised my head, and there she was, standing coldly at the entrance, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater.

She stepped inside, her red hair swept up to the top of her head, secured with a rubber band. Her shorts rode high, the tattered fringe skimming across her thighs like soft scratches, each strand a silent tease.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes glued to her.

Leona stood before my desk and started, her voice gentle and polite. “Thank you.” She paused, then continued, “for letting Emmy stay with me for the time being.”

“Don’t mistake that for kindness,” I said.

“I’m not,” she answered. “I know better.”

Silence.

“But uh…I wanted you to know something….” She drew closer, hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “…why my siblings matter so much to me.”

I didn’t respond, but the look on my face said that I was listening.

“My mother died giving birth to Emmy,” she began, her voice low but steady. “I was fourteen then. Dad couldn’t bear the loss. So, he hit the bottle, leaving me with four younger ones to take care of.”

I watched a glimpse of pain flash in her eyes.

“One day, I was just a regular teenager, the next—I wasn’t.

I lost my mother, but I also lost my father and was forced to grow up fast.” She heaved a sigh.

“Emmy was still a baby, and I raised her like she was my child: held the bottle, changed the diapers, signed school forms with a forged signature when Dad was too drunk to show up.”

Still, I didn’t say a word, even though my hatred for her father had just doubled.

She scoffed, subtly shaking her head. “I told Emmy that monsters weren’t real when I knew one was sleeping in the next room, snoring.”

My jaw tightened, blood boiling with rage at what she had to suffer at a young age. Her father was a piece of shit and was undeserving of the children he had.

“Now you know what you stole from them when you took me,” she said, her voice low and steady, tinged with quiet fury.

Something flickered in me.

Not exactly regret, but something similar.

My jaw locked as her words landed—sharp and unforgiving. For the first time, I understood the weight of what I’d taken.

This was why she didn’t break easily—why she was such a fighter.

I watched her leave the office, not as my prisoner. Not as the woman forced into my world. But as someone forged in fire. Carved by pain. Hardened by love.