Page 29 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

Pain was the first thing I registered when I came to, eyes fluttering open. My head felt heavy, with a slight pang, and my vision was hazy, accompanied by a loud ringing in my ear. I tightly pressed my eyelids, hands flickering toward my face, fingers rubbing my eyeballs.

The constant sound of dripping water echoed in my head, my blurry vision gradually clearing by the second. The moment it did, I looked at the chaos around me—bloodstained walls, burned curtains, broken windows, and a cracked roof—a leaking one. That was the dripping sound I’d heard earlier.

Dead bodies lay sprawled out across the floor, blood pooling beneath them. A few sets of furniture were flipped upside down—sofas and couches. Even the coffee table was broken, as though it had crashed under someone’s weight.

The cross on the wall was now hanging upside down, and the frames that once hung there were now broken on the floor.

Bullet holes marred the walls, and the flickering, blind screen of the TV flickered across the room.

The chandelier was barely hanging on by a thread—just a small tremor was enough to send it crashing down with brutal force.

It took a moment before I finally got a grip of myself and realized this was Emmy’s room.

The last thing I remembered was getting stabbed in the side by a masked man twice my size—one of Aleksei’s men.

And then it hit me: I’d passed out and left my wife, our unborn child, and Emmy at the mercy of a madman.

I groaned at the searing pain at my side as I struggled to stand, my hand reflexively darting down to the wound. I felt a familiar fabric padded underneath my shirt, and when I lifted the hem, I found a bandage wrapped around my stomach.

How the hell did someone find time amidst this chaos to stitch me up? That was beside the point, though. I had a more pressing concern: the safety of my family. I glanced around, then spotted a discarded assault rifle lying beside a dead man.

Quickly, I snatched it off the ground, cocked the damn thing, and then headed out. I held up the gun in front of me, my footsteps silent and tactical—like a predator on a hunt. I moved through the hallway, under the flickering fluorescent lights, with the stealth of a skilled soldier.

My killer instinct was activated, my heartbeat steady in my chest despite the anxiety washing over me.

I was worried about my family—pissed at myself for being so sloppy.

I should’ve seen that bastard coming—never should’ve let him stab me with that knife.

At least, I wouldn’t have been in this situation.

I swore at that moment that none of Aleksei’s men would leave the mansion alive, and Aleksei himself would die by my hands.

Slow and painful. He’d regret ever attacking my home.

For his own damn sake, my family better be in good shape.

Because even if a single hair on their heads was touched, I’d rain hell on all of them.

As I moved, crossing over dead bodies without looking down, I noticed something glaring—something fishy. The silence.

How long was I out?

The last time I was conscious, the entire mansion was filled with the sound of heavy gunfire and explosions. It was noisy as hell—maids running here and there, screaming their lungs out, Aleksei’s men shooting at men, my men shooting back. It was a disaster.

But now, all I heard was the deafening sound of silence. It was like the fuckin’ Mary Celeste out here.

I’d been roaming the mansion for about five minutes now and still hadn’t come across a single living person. The mansion wasn’t just quiet like a graveyard; it was fuckin’ empty—like there was no one left alive.

Now, fear was starting to creep in. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my pulse was spiking. I locked my jaw, refusing to give in to the possibility that everyone was dead—that my family was….

No.

I shook my head, deepening my scowl as I told myself that Leona was not the type to go down easily. She was a strong woman—a fighter with more than a couple of reasons to stay alive. She was not dead.

A part of me didn’t believe that. I wanted to, but the evidence said otherwise. This place was too quiet, and there were a lot of familiar faces dead on the ground. Maids and guards that were supposed to keep her safe.

Fuck.

I’d never been more afraid in my life, and my heart had never beat so fast—or so loud—before. I checked every room in the mansion that I could, and in each one, there was at least one dead body—enemy or not.

At this point, I was already shaking—worried and fucking angry at the same time. Aleksei should have killed me. Because if he hurt my family and let me live, I’d chase him down to the ends of the earth and drive a knife through his fuckin heart.

I’d kill everyone he ever knew, everyone he ever talked to—friends and family—and feed their bones to my fuckin’ hounds.

Speaking of hounds, where the fuck were those creatures when I needed them?

Did Aleksei kill everybody and take my pregnant wife and Emmy? Did he kidnap them?

My blood boiled at the mere thought of his filthy hands on them. I was pissed and frustrated at the same time. There was nobody in this whole house, not a single soul.

Where the hell was Simon? I hadn’t seen his dead body. And Grigory? There were a couple of maids and guards whose bodies I haven’t seen yet. If I hadn’t stumbled across them yet, maybe it meant that they might still be alive.

That was a little thread of hope that I was willing to tug at until I found something meaningful.

I thought about the possibility of Aleksei rounding up all the survivors and taking them all away. But then, who stitched me up? Who wrapped that bandage around my wound?

Something didn’t add up.

I kept moving stealthily through the dimly lit hallways, and I noticed something odd. The deeper into the house I went, the more of Aleksei’s men I found dead. In the last two minutes, I hadn’t seen any bodies I recognized—only men in black clothes with wolf masks.

There was a trail of bodies dragged across the hallway like a pattern—a deliberate act. I followed the trail, gun held up in readiness. And when I rounded a corner, there were more dead bodies on the floor with traces of human brains plastered on the bloodstained walls.

None of these guys were my men. Not even one.

The drawing room ahead had its door slightly ajar, light spilling from inside. And for the first time since I’d been walking these hallways, I heard a sound that wasn’t the beating of my own heart: a voice. It didn’t sound familiar, but it meant one thing. Answers.

I quickened my pace, grip tightening on the gun as I drew closer, my footsteps soundless against the sticky floor. I heard another voice, and another—like there was a group of people in the drawing room. I recognized one of the voices—the maid, Nikki.

Was she being held hostage?

She spoke again, as if talking to someone. And although I couldn’t catch her words, her tone didn’t sound as though she was afraid.

Not a hostage.

The closer I drew, the more familiar voices I heard— Grigory, a guard named Ivan, the chef, and the housekeeper, Olga. And just as I stepped before the door, I heard Simon’s voice loud and clear, saying, “…scan the house, find everyone who’s hiding, and take them to safety….”

He was still talking when I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Water pooled across the floor from a broken pipe in the wall, wires sparked dangerously in the rafters, and a gaping hole yawned in the roof above.

Simon and the others with him turned to face me, a glint of relief dancing in their eyes. Dead bodies pooled at their feet as they stood tall and triumphant over the enemies. About ten of my men, excluding Grigory and Simon, stood at attention, weapons clutched to their chests.

I was right about the chef, Nikki, and the housekeeper; they were also present in the room, amongst a few others.

No wonder the house was empty.

“Where’s my wife?” I asked, my gaze shifting between Grigory and Simon.

Everyone in the room exchanged uneasy glances before silently parting, stepping back to form two lines. At the center stood a familiar woman—unshaken—her back straight, one hand clutching a gun, the other gripping a bloodied knife.

At her feet lay the crumpled body of a man, lifeless and still warm, a dark pool spreading beneath him.

Her red hair spilled down her back, her shoulders subtly rising and falling with uneven breaths.

I stepped forward, my footsteps slow and steady as I approached her. “Leona?”

A second later, she turned around, her face stained with dirt and splashes of blood. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me; she looked like a pregnant warrior, forged from the heat of battle. Her eyes, those sparkly green eyes, no longer held the innocence I used to see.

I was familiar with the look on her face—the shock and guilt after your first kill. After you realized you’d crossed a line there was no coming back from.

“Egor,” she whispered, dropping her weapons with tears in her eyes.

I rushed over and embraced her, my arms around her waist. “Shhh.” I smoothed down her hair.

“I killed him,” she sobbed, her bloody hands on my chest, her voice breaking. “I killed him, Egor. I killed him.”

“You did what you had to do,” I said, eyes fixed on the dead man behind her.

It was him. Aleksei.

What the hell was going on here? How did she kill the Mad Wolf?

There was a stab wound in his chest, multiple others around his neck, and a bullet hole in his head. From what I observed, someone had jabbed a knife into Aleksei’s neck several times.

Did she really do that?

I mean, it would explain the blood splashes on her face and the stains on her hands. Plus, she was the one standing over his body with a bloodied knife and a gun.

Honestly, I’d never been more proud of anyone in my life.

“She saved the mansion, Boss,” Simon said to me, his tone dripping with respect for my wife. “She saved all of us.”

“He’s right,” Grigory said. “If it weren’t her genius plan, we’d all be dead by now.”

I let go of her, palms cradling her face, my eyes boring into hers. “You’ve made me so proud, Leona.”

Her expression softened, a sob falling from her lips. “But I ended a man’s life— many men’s lives.”

“No,” I said, wiping her tears with my thumb. “You saved a bunch of people from a demon. That’s what you did.”

She paused, her gaze slowly shifting across the faces of everyone else in the room.

“You see,” I began, resting my forehead on hers. “They’re all grateful.” My free hand settled on her protruding stomach.

“The baby’s fine,” she whispered. “I hope.”

I felt it move beneath my hand—a gentle kick.

“And Emmy?” I asked, looking around.

“She’s fine,” Nikki chipped in. “Rosa’s with her downstairs.”

I nodded, my heart finally at peace.

“Alright, everyone, clear out,” Simon ordered. “There’s work to be done.”

Quietly, they all headed out of the room, leaving just me and my wife.

“I’ll never let this happen again,” I promised her. “Never.”

She lifted her hand and placed her palm on my cheek. “I know, Egor. I know—and this wasn’t your fault, so don’t you dare blame yourself.” Her lips curled into a beautiful smile.

I let out a sigh, guilt creeping into my heart. “I failed you, Leona.”

She shook her head. “You saved me,” she answered, her thumb brushing over my skin. “I learned to defend myself because you taught me to do so. You trained me—prepared me for a day like this.”

I scoffed softly, beaming with pride. “And you didn’t disappoint.”

Leona paused for a second. “Well, we Tarasovs don’t back down from a fight, now, do we?” She flashed a smirk at me.

I returned the gesture. “No, we do not.”

This was it—the moment I knew beyond a reasonable doubt that she was mine forever. This was the final action that proved she still wasn’t pretending to be my wife. She was my wife.

Despite everything that had happened, she was still standing, even in her condition. It was official; Leona was the strongest woman that I’d ever met, and there was no way in hell that she was going to slip through my fingers.