Page 17 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

“This place is beautiful,” Emmy said, snuggled under the sheets, her eyes pinned on me.

I beamed a half-genuine smile, sitting on the edge of her bed, fingers pushing stray strands behind her ear. “It is, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her face lighting up with sheer innocence. “It’s huge—bigger than our apartment.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she paused for a moment. “When will Micah, Zara, and Noah join us?”

My breath hitched, throat dry. “Um….” I scratched the back of my head, thinking of better ways to respond to this. “Pretty soon, I guess.”

Emmy squinted, a glint of confusion flashing in her eyes. “You guess?” she asked, “But I thought he’s your husband.”

I adjusted, shifting closer. “Listen, Emmy, there’s uh…there’s a lot going on here that you don’t understand, okay?”

“Is it bad?” she questioned, her voice tinged with worry.

“No, no, no…” I said, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. “It’s just….” My voice fell to a faint whisper. “I’m working on something, and I just need you to trust me, alright? Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“Atta girl.” A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, my hand ruffling her hair. “Now, go to sleep.”

She drew a deep, long breath and stretched, yawning. “Goodnight, Leo.”

“Goodnight, Emmy.” I reached to kiss her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise,” I whispered in her ear.

Her response was a faint smile, and with that, she closed her eyes. I exhaled sharply, rising to my feet, then slipped out and closed the door behind me.

My heart was racing in my chest, my knees too weak to carry my weight as I headed back to the master bedroom. Egor wasn’t in—he’d left the house about an hour ago, and I had no idea where he went.

Good.

This gave me enough time to go through the documents Grigory had smuggled into the compound two hours ago. It was too risky to open it at the time, so I hid it. But now, with Egor away, this was my only shot.

I locked the door behind me and rushed into the room, my heart hammering in my chest. The floorboard near the bathroom creaked as I pried it open with practiced fingers.

Dust clung to the edges of the hidden cavity.

Inside, wrapped in cloth and nerves, lay the burner phone and a sealed brown envelope.

I picked up the phone and turned it on.

A message blinked on-screen: “It’s done. Your new identity is ready. Documents secure. Be ready in 72 hours.”

I knelt on the floor, reached for the envelope, and peeled off the seal. With nervous glances over my shoulders, I checked the door to be sure no one was coming in anytime soon.

With care, I unfolded the forged documents: a driver’s license, a passport, and papers all bearing a different name. Macy Evelyn Gray.

Hmm. Not bad.

Freedom was close; I could feel it—a new life, a different country—all within reach. My hands trembled, and my heart pounded like a drum as I rose to my feet, heading toward the bed. I sat on the mattress, eyes fixed on the forged documents in front of me.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

My head dipped, chin on my chest, with fingers massaging my temples. I tried to stay focused on the mission, but the more I tried, the more my thoughts drifted back to him.

Egor.

I hated it—how he so easily invaded my mind every now and then. I shouldn’t be distracted now that I could almost taste my freedom. Yet, here I was, thinking about my jailer—his hands on me, his kiss, his warmth, his cologne.

It was stupid recalling the incident from the other day, but no matter how hard I tried to stay focused on the mission, I just couldn’t.

Why was I so confused about something so simple?

He was a monster, and I was better off without him. I owed it to my siblings to get the hell out of here at any cost. I’d begun the journey already, and there was no going back now.

However, in the process of making up my mind, something hit me—completely out of the blue.

My period.

Shit.

I reached for the calendar on my nightstand, flipping through the pages to find the dates. My eyes scanned. Counted. Recounted.

No, that can’t be right.

I counted again.

My eyes widened in fear, a hand flying to cover my mouth.

Ten days. Ten whole days. That was how late my period was.

I froze, my brain going numb for a moment, heatwaves spreading across my body like wildfire. My hands trembled with fear, my heart threatening to explode from my chest.

I shook my head, recounting the days again to be sure. Same thing.

This hadn’t happened to me before. Sure, I’d missed my period by a few days in the past due to stress or a sudden change in my body system. But never like this—never ten fuckin’ days.

Something was off.

Wait. Am I…? I wondered, too scared to even think about the possibility. No, no. I can’t be.

There was a sudden dryness in my throat, and I was already starting to sweat in awkward places. If this were true…. If I were….

If I really were pregnant, that would change everything.

Dang it!

What have I done!

I lie back with my head on the pillow, a hand resting on my stomach. The documents on the bed might as well catch fire. My future—so carefully stitched together in silence—was unraveling thread by thread.

This was a complication I hadn’t anticipated.

I heard the burner phone buzz, but I didn’t bother to check the screen; I just lay back, eyes to the ceiling. I could feel a storm gathering, and I knew deep down in my heart that there was no stopping what was coming next.