Page 18 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

I should’ve known.

All that acting, the sudden change in attitude—the broad smiles, the quick obedience—I should’ve trusted my instincts. But I chose to ignore it; I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

My father used to say, “Give them a rope long enough, and they’ll hang themselves.” Leona just hanged herself; she tried to outsmart me under my own roof.

Did she really think that I wasn’t going to find out—that her little scheme was going to work? She played me, tricked me into lowering my guard, and now I was pissed. Furious.

I had Simon track her every move the moment she took on the role of the perfect housewife. I didn’t ask for details, only told him to report to me when he found something incriminating—something that required my attention.

I didn’t want to be kept abreast of the situation. And honestly, deep down in my heart, I hoped he wouldn’t find anything. But he did. And he reported to me. No details, just evidence.

He found a burner phone under the floorboard near the bathroom in our master bedroom. Everything was on there—text messages about their plans to smuggle Leona out of the country. They’d already forged the necessary documents and IDs—the fuckin’ plan was in motion.

72 hours. That was how long until they busted her out of here.

I seethed in silence, my jaw locked in as I stared at the name on the screen—Liam. That was the guy she’d been planning with this whole time. My blood boiled, the scowl on my face deepening. I tightened my grip on the burner phone, feeling raw anger surging through me like electricity.

Liam. Who the fuck was that?

Her boyfriend?

Her lover?

The mere thought of another man’s hands on her fueled my rage. I glared at the name flashing on the screen, already thinking of the many ways to make the bastard suffer.

“Find him,” I said, my voice low and venomous. “The man, Liam.” I lifted my head, locking eyes with Simon. “Bring him to me…alive.”

Simon nodded, then quietly left the office.

I could’ve given the order to have him killed, but that would be so easy. I wanted to make him suffer first so Leona would see the consequences of her actions. She would understand just how fragile her world was when built on lies.

Perhaps I’d been so soft on her. Not anymore.

It was high time she saw the monster she’d always claimed that I was.

I rose from my chair, adjusted the tie around my neck, and then headed out.

She was lounging on the sofa when I stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind me. Startled, she flinched at the unexpected noise, her head turning back toward the door. Her eyes dropped to my hand, and the moment she recognized the device I was holding, her breath hitched.

Leona rose to her feet, eyes wide with fear, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She clenched her jaw, swallowing hard as if bracing herself for what was coming next.

I moved closer silently, my gaze icy and sharp, footsteps deliberate and steady. “Really?” I raised the phone, my eyes fixed on her like claws clutching prey. “How dumb did you think I was?”

She bit her lip, desperately trying to hide her fears inside. But I could see right through her—behind the brave face she wore. She was scared, and rightfully so.

Leona withdrew from me, her forehead dotted with cold sweat.

Moved by rage, I snapped, “Answer me!” and hurled the damn thing against the wall.

She flinched and choked back a breath, her eyes darting like a trapped animal’s. I lunged forward, clutching her arms. She cried out softly, pain flashing across her face like lightning.

I pushed her back against a decorative table, my hand on her neck. The impact sent a cascade of objects clattering to the floor—trinkets and decorations.

Those green eyes stared back at me—glassy and afraid. Her mask of bravery did nothing to hide the terror simmering beneath the surface.

I pulled out a gun with my free hand, pushing the barrel under her chin. My gaze locked with hers, my jaw locked in fury. “I told you before; the only way out of here is in a casket,” I said, my voice low and venomous.

She swallowed hard but said nothing.

Leona didn’t beg; she didn’t let the tears in her eyes drop either. Instead, she looked me straight in the face and made a statement that shook my bones.

“Go ahead,” she dared, her gaze cold and unwavering. “Pull the trigger—kill me.”

My expression darkened, and I tightened my grip on the gun. She dared challenge me even with her life in my hands?

She continued, “But know this: You’ll be ending more than just me.” She paused, holding the intensity of my glare. “You’ll be silencing a heart that hasn’t even learned to beat.”

What’s she talking about?

I squinted my eyes and tilted my head slightly to the side as a suspicious look settled on my face.

“What’re you waiting for?” she asked through gritted teeth, leaning closer, her breath warm against my skin. “Do it. Kill us.”

Us?

She was talking in parables, and although I already had a hint of where she was going with it, a big part of me was still in denial.

No. How true could that be?

My gaze dropped, and that was when I realized that she’d been clutching her belly protectively this entire time. I lifted my head, shifting my eyes back to her face. Leona didn’t bother to explain what she meant, but the look in her eyes said it all.

“You’re pregnant.” The words fell from my mouth, more like a statement than a question.

She didn’t respond—just glared at me with so much hatred.

I stood there, frozen in place, the metal of my gun no longer cold—just forgotten. A million thoughts flooded my mind, my breath hitched, and my legs suddenly felt too weak to carry me.

My hand dropped from her neck, and I lowered the gun, then pulled away quietly. The world around us fell silent, everything else fading into the background. Neither of us said a word for the next few seconds; we just glared like two people who wanted to destroy each other but couldn’t.

This changes everything, I thought. There’s a baby involved now.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. A baby, my child? It was so unexpected that it left me completely speechless.

Was I ready for this?

The only reason I chose Leona as my bride was so I wouldn’t have to bother playing the role of a husband. Now, she added another role to the list—a complicated one.

I pulled away from her, my breathing uneven—not from anger but from something more profound. Something I hadn’t yet dared to put into words.

“The only reason you’re still breathing is because of that child in your womb,” I said, calm and collected. “Once it’s born, I’ll decide what to do with you. But for now….” My eyes roamed her body with disdain. “You mean nothing to me.”

She blinked and clenched her jaw, as if my words had struck her heart like a dagger. I stormed out of the room as if I was being chased, tucking the gun back into my pants.

I needed some air. Where better to find what I needed than the garden?

The cool breeze brushed against my skin as I sat on the bench, elbows on my knees. I’d never been more confused in my life. One minute, I wanted her dead, and the next, I was stuck with the idea of being a father.

She wasn’t wrong about me—I was a ruthless monster. However, I’d never harm a pregnant woman, let alone the one carrying my baby. It all still sounded absurd in my head—the concept of fatherhood.

I hated Leona for conspiring with another man to help her leave me—the pain was like a bullet to the chest, especially because I was starting to actually like her. She betrayed me. Planned her escape behind my back. She deserved to be punished.

But I couldn’t.

I told myself it was because she was carrying my baby. However, deep down in my heart, I knew I never would have harmed her. I never would have pulled that trigger.

“You look sad,” a tiny, adorable voice cut through my thoughts like a knife.

I blinked back to the present, my gaze falling on the fragile little girl standing beside me. Emmy.

She held her teddy bear, her eyes fixed on me with a gentle, worried look.

I tried to answer but couldn’t find the words, so I just stared at her—completely blank.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she sat beside me, her tiny legs dangling off the edge of the bench. “Did you know that worrying doesn’t solve anything?”

I looked at her with squinted eyes. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded and continued, her voice soft like a sweet melody. “If you can fix a problem, then fix it instead of sitting around looking all grumpy and moody.”

I arched my brows. “And if you can’t fix the problem?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Then don’t waste your brain worrying about it; it’s not like worrying will magically make it disappear.” She beamed at me. “That’s just dumb.”

“True,” I muttered under my breath, intrigued by Emmy’s wisdom.

For an eight-year-old, she sure had the mind of a philosopher. I was completely thrown off.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “you’re not dumb.” Emmy paused, watching me closely, like she was studying me. “You’re just…stuck. Like your brain is in a traffic jam.”

Before I could stop myself, I let out a laugh, more breath than amusement. “How old are you again?”

“Eight.”

“Well, I think you’re way too smart for your age, Emmy,” I said, my heart warming with something I couldn't quite name.

Her eyes lit up with mirth. “Yeah, everyone says that. But don’t be too impressed. I still can’t do fractions without crying.”

I didn’t realize when I burst out laughing.

She did too. And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.

A little. I stared at Emmy, wondering if this was what it would feel like to have a daughter of my own.

Her innocence, her purity, and the way she didn’t see me as a monster broke something ancient inside me.

The idea of being a father terrified me because I knew it would require a side of me that I had buried a long time ago. A side that little Emmy had unlocked. My humanity.