Page 4 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

I gasped, jolting awake to the loud clash of thunder rumbling outside. My eyes scanned the dimly lit room, a flash of lightning revealing a glimpse of the wall clock across my bed.

It was almost midnight.

Outside, rain pounded against the windows, and the whistling wind howled through the open frame. My gaze darted to the table beneath the window—my books already soaked.

“Shit,” I murmured, tossing the sheets aside as I hopped out of bed, rushing to close the windows.

It took a moment of wrestling with the relentless wind and my face getting drenched before I finally managed to slam the damn thing shut. I rubbed my forehead, wiping the water from my brows.

I watched my dripping notebooks and textbooks—a mess that could’ve been avoided if I had just closed the windows before going to bed. “Great,” I whispered to myself.

Just as I was about to return to bed, I heard it: a loud noise coming from the living room downstairs. It sounded like glass breaking, and at first, I thought it was just Dad being clumsy again. But then came the other voices—thick and quietly unsettling.

Dad was talking to someone—he was begging with a hint of fear in his voice. I wasn’t sure what he was begging for, nor could I make out what the conversation was about. But I felt this chill run down my spine, heightening all of my senses.

The alarms in my head went off, as if something was definitely amiss.

Who was he talking to at this time of night? And why in God’s name did he sound so afraid?

That thought hadn’t even formed yet when I heard another crash, followed by a series of punches and kicks. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat after clearly hearing Dad’s painful groans.

Our home had been invaded—by who? I wasn’t sure. But my first instinct was to ensure my siblings were safe, and without a moment’s hesitation, I rushed out of my room.

The entire house was plunged into darkness—either from the storm outside or maybe because these strange men had cut the power. I couldn’t tell.

Quietly, I crept down the hallway, my phone’s flashlight cutting through the dark as I made my way to the kids’ room. The wooden door creaked softly when I pushed it open, my flashlight casting a shaky glow into the room.

Four pairs of scared eyes settled on me, my siblings all huddled together on the bottom bunk, blankets tangled around their legs.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” I whispered, arms stretched, my voice tinged with urgency.

“Lee, is that you?” Zara asked me, her voice cracking.

“It’s me,” I said, rushing over to them, beaming my flashlight across their faces. “Is everyone okay?”

They all nodded at once.

I sighed. “Okay, good. Thank God.”

“What’s happening?” Emmy asked, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest. “We heard loud noises….”

Her voice was a little bit higher than I wanted it to be, and so I rushed and knelt by the bed. “Shhh.” I placed a finger to my lips. “Keep your voice down,” came my soft whisper as I brushed some stray strands from her face.

“Are we being robbed?” Micah asked me, confusion flickering in his gaze.

“Is Dad gonna be okay? Are we gonna be okay?” Noah added, his voice laced with fear and desperation.

Seeing them so terrified was overwhelming, and I honestly didn’t have the answer to their questions. I was just as confused as they were, with no idea what the hell was happening. I was worried and scared, too. But I couldn’t let them see that.

Once again, I had to be strong; I had to be their guardian and defender. “We’re gonna be fine,” I said to them, trying to sound as convincing as I could. “All of us.”

That instant, an ear-piercing scream echoed through the house, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Then came the thunder.

My siblings clung to each other, shaking with fear.

“Dad sounds like he’s in pain,” Emmy whispered, blinking those adorable eyes—glassy, teary.

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the move I knew I had to make. “Micah, Zara,” I called the twins’ attention. “You’re the oldest. Keep your brother and sister safe until I get back.”

“Get back?” twelve-year-old Noah questioned, brows knitting together. “Where’re you going?” he stressed his whisper.

“Someone has to check on Dad, make sure he’s okay, and that someone is me,” I replied, bold and confident even though I was scared to death on the inside. “Now, listen carefully, all of you,” I began, “stay close, and no matter what you hear, do not leave this room. Got it?”

They nodded in unison, four frightened faces clinging to the thread of safety my words offered.

I stood and backed out of the room.

“Lee,” Emmy called softly.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face her.

“Be careful,” she murmured.

The eight-year-old’s warning made my heart skip a beat, and for a second, I considered hiding in here with all of them. But I was the guardian they looked up to, and I had to do something.

I drew a deep breath and closed the door slowly until only a sliver of light remained. Then I shut it completely and turned the lock with a soft click .

The hallway felt colder somehow. Heavier. More terrifying—like a scene straight out of a horror movie.

Here goes nothing, I thought to myself, and then summoned the courage to head downstairs.

My heart was pounding like a drum, my chest rising and falling with slow breaths as I crept down the stairs. Every step was quiet, careful, and deliberate. I turned off my flashlight as the storm raged outside, lightning flashing through the broken blinds.

The air was thick, like the house was holding its breath, and I could almost hear the sound of my own heartbeat. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I froze, eyes wide with terror.

Dad, bleeding from his nose and mouth, was on his knees in the living room, head bowed like a broken man.

In front of him, strangers stood—one sitting comfortably on our battered couch with his legs crossed.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, this stranger radiated an air of composure and power.

A cigar glowed faintly between his fingers, the smoke curling in slow, elegant spirals above his head.

He stared at my father with a calm, unreadable expression, so calm it sent tremors down my core.

He was shrouded in darkness, and so I didn’t get a good look at him.

But I did see his eyes—dark and hollow, empty—soulless, like a man who had sent hundreds of men to an early grave.

Next to him stood another man, large and intimidating, dressed in a red suit. He loomed over the man on the couch with his arms crossed.

I didn’t know who they were, but from the looks of things, it was clear that Dad owed these men something, and they were here to collect. They still hadn’t said a word—their presence alone did the talking. These men were ‘danger’ wrapped in velvet.

Devils in tailored suits.

“Seven days,” Dad pleaded, his voice hoarse and desperate. “That’s all I’m asking—I swear, I’ll get your money before then.”

Oh, Dad, what have you done this time?

The man on the couch didn’t speak; he just listened in silence, taking slow drags on his cigar. And then, as if pulled by a string, his gaze shifted and landed directly on me.

My heart seized immediately, and I gasped. Those eyes were more intimidating than I realized—cold as ice, calculating, and dead. I’d never felt more terrified by someone’s stare before, and yet right now, I was already sweating in awkward places.

Those dark, hollow eyes bore into mine with an intensity that not only stole my breath but also weakened my knees. My legs turned to jelly, suddenly unable to carry my weight.

Dad noticed the man’s attention was drawn to something else, and so he paused, tracing the man’s gaze to me.

He glanced back and saw me standing at the base of the stairs, frightened like a child.

And for a split second, I thought I caught a glimpse of shame flickering in his gaze, like he didn’t want me witnessing this.

“Who is she?” the seated man questioned.

My father trembled at the sound of his voice—and honestly, so did I. It was deep, and menacing—so deep, in fact, it sent my hand flying to my chest as if to prevent my heart from jumping out.

“M—my first…my first daughter,” Dad stuttered.

The man uncrossed his legs, interest flickering beneath the surface like a spark caught in oil. With one fluid motion, he rose to his feet, the cigar still burning between his fingers.

He approached me, his footsteps slow and deliberate, with those cold eyes still fixed on me like a hook to a fish.

Oh, God, no.

Thunder cracked outside—loud and jarring—making me flinch. I caught a glimpse of his face in the next flash of lightning, but my brain was too consumed by fear to register his features.

At this point, I wished that the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

His shoes clicked against the wooden floor with each measured and intimidating step. I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my calm even in the face of danger. He halted before me, the intoxicating scent of his cologne invading my nostrils.

He towered over me like an oak tree, his dark presence unsettling something deep inside me. His gaze was unwavering—his sheer dominance pressing down on me like a weight. He looked me over, not with curiosity, but like a man appraising a thing he might soon own.

“This one will do,” he said, that deep, husky voice breaking the deafening silence in the room.

What’s that supposed to mean? What’s he talking about? I panicked, my eyes shifting to my father.

“Yes, yes…” he concurred, rising to his feet, his voice dripping with desperation and a hint of relief.

“What?” I mumbled, confused as to what exactly was going on.

“She’ll do—she’ll do just fine, I promise,” Dad added.

Now, it was starting to make sense—at least in the worst possible way. Even if I didn’t fully grasp what was happening, I could feel it.

Something had been traded.

And I was the payment.

I was too numb to speak, or move—shocked by this level of betrayal. Tears stung my eyes, my lips quivering with an aching heart. Dad looked away immediately, hiding his face in shame and guilt.

Without taking his eyes off me, the strange man said to my father, “It’s settled, then. Your debt is paid.”

I couldn’t believe my ears—couldn’t believe this was real. My own father had just traded me off to some devil to pay off his debt. I knew he was an irresponsible man, but this…this was the height of it.

Unforgivable.

Before I could think further, I felt a strong arm around my waist. Someone had grabbed me from behind, and in a flash, something prickled my neck: a needle. I’d been drugged.

Whatever I was injected with took effect almost immediately. It was that strong. I winced, a hand reflexively flying to my neck as I staggered backward with heavy eyes.

My vision started to blur, and I could hear the pounding of my own heart in my chest. The world was swirling around me, and the sound of thunder echoed in my head. My body collapsed to the floor within seconds, and the last thing I saw was my father shaking hands with the strange man.

Their voices faded into the background, and soon, my eyes fluttered shut.

Then, darkness.