Page 23

23

Alina

My head rests against the cool glass of the window, my eyes half-closed as relief battles anxiety in my chest. Viktor changed his mind; he isn't sending me away. The oppressive weight pressing against my heart feels lighter for the first time in weeks.

Outside, streetlights blur into gentle streaks of gold and white, mirroring my scattered thoughts. I softly place my hand against my abdomen, a protective gesture that is becoming second nature now. Inside me, life grows quietly—a small, vulnerable reminder of Lev.

Pain tightens my throat at the thought of him. He left me. He left us. Anger mixes with heartache, creating a confusing blend of emotions swirling relentlessly in my chest. But despite everything, I refuse to regret the child we created. No matter how difficult this path becomes, I won't allow anyone to harm the innocent life I carry.

The SUV takes another quiet turn, slipping into a side street. My pulse quickens slightly, unease creeping into the edges of my consciousness. I glance forward, noticing the driver exchanging brief words into his earpiece. Nothing unusual, but something prickles at the back of my neck—a subtle sense of danger I've learned not to ignore.

Suddenly, headlights from a sleek black vehicle flash brightly, their intensity blinding. The SUV swerves violently, throwing me hard against the door. My heart leaps into my throat as tires screech loudly, echoing in my ears. Gunfire erupts, loud and explosive, shattering windows into a million glittering shards. Instinctively, I duck, covering my head and clutching my stomach protectively.

"Get down!" The driver yells desperately, but words are cut short by a sickening collision. I scream involuntarily as the vehicle slams to an abrupt stop, the force hurling me forward painfully.

Shaking violently, I lift my head. The world is dark and chaotic, fragmented by the broken glass and flashing lights. Boots crunch heavily against the asphalt, approaching quickly, and terror floods my veins.

The doors wrench open, and rough hands grab me brutally. I fight instinctively, adrenaline surging through me. I claw and kick desperately, driven by raw maternal instinct.

"Stop fighting," a harsh voice growls menacingly near my ear. "Or I’ll bury a bullet in your head."

Fear freezes my blood instantly as I think of my child; my limbs go limp in surrender. "Please," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Don't hurt me."

Hands bind my wrists tightly, and a cloth swiftly covers my eyes. Darkness consumes me, suffocating and disorienting. My captors drag me roughly from the SUV, each step jarring my senses. Their voices are muffled and unfamiliar—cold and detached.

I’m shoved roughly into another vehicle, my head hitting the metal frame painfully as they force me inside. The door slams shut, plunging me into oppressive silence, broken only by my frantic breaths.

The engine roars, the vehicle jerking into rapid motion. I press my face against my knees, desperate to steady my breathing. I force myself to think clearly, to keep panic from taking over completely. Viktor will come. Viktor always comes.

The ride is long, painfully so. Each sharp turn and every bump in the road jolts through me, magnifying my fear. My stomach churns violently, with nausea threatening to overwhelm me. I whisper softly to my unborn child, offering words of reassurance I can barely believe myself.

Finally, the vehicle slows, tires crunching on gravel before stopping abruptly. I flinch as rough hands pull me out, stumbling blindly across the uneven ground. I'm thrust into a cold, empty room, the hood yanked from my head unexpectedly, leaving me blinking harshly in the dim light.

The door slams behind me, the heavy click of a lock echoing ominously. I'm alone. The room is bare and oppressive, shadows dancing on the grimy walls. I sink slowly to the freezing floor, trembling uncontrollably as the reality of my situation crashes down on me.

Tears sting behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not yet. My shaking hand moves instinctively to my abdomen, rubbing gently. "We're going to be okay," I whisper fiercely, a silent vow to myself and my unborn child. "Viktor will find us."

Hours stretch painfully long in the darkness. My muscles cramp from the cold floor, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. I fight to remain alert, terrified of what might come next. My mind races endlessly, struggling to piece together who would dare take Viktor’s sister and what they could possibly want.

Just when exhaustion threatens to pull me under, footsteps echo loudly outside the door, jolting me fully awake. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, every nerve tense. The door swings open sharply, spilling faint light into the oppressive darkness.

A man steps inside, ominously silhouetted against the dim corridor beyond. "Comfortable, Miss Makarov?" His voice is low and taunting, dripping with cruel amusement.

I refuse to give him the satisfaction, forcing my voice to stay steady despite my racing pulse. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

He laughs darkly and steps closer, though his face remains shrouded in shadow. "I don’t want anything with you. But my boss does."

I lift my chin defiantly, drawing strength from deep within. "Viktor will come for me."

The man chuckles coldly, crouching to meet my gaze, his breath chilling against my skin. "Oh, we’re counting on that."

Fear grips me tighter, a relentless vise around my chest. Yet, beneath the terror, determination ignites fiercely. I won't let these men win. I won't let them harm my child. I will fight with hope in my heart that Viktor is already looking for us.

After what seems like ages, heavy footsteps approach once again, causing my heart to race painfully. The door swings open slowly, and a tall figure steps into the dim light, his face partially hidden in shadows. His presence fills the room with an unsettling aura of control.

"I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Makarov."

"And you are?"

"Your groom. Carlos Mendes."

"My what!"

"You should make yourself comfortable, Miss Makarov," he says, his voice smooth yet chilling. "This is going to be your home now."

I glance around the shabby, oppressive room, disbelief evident in my expression. The man chuckles softly, stepping closer into the faint light. His cold eyes glint with amusement, a cruel smile playing at his lips.

"No, my dear," he clarifies, his tone dripping with sinister amusement. "Not here in this room. Your new home will be with me-by my side, as my bride."

My breath catches violently. Shock slams into me like a freight train. "What?"

He nods, still grinning. "You heard me. You'll be my wife."

Disgust twists in my stomach. "Viktor will never accept this. He'll burn the world down first."

The man chuckles darkly. "Ah, Viktor... You think your brother scares me? We used to run the same streets. Back then, no one knew who he really was.”

I stare at him, speechless. Viktor is friends with this scoundrel?

"If I had known that Viktor wasn’t just another of Thiago's goons but the hidden heir to a powerful Russian Bratva, I would have tried a hell of a lot harder to get on his good side," he sneers. "But fate’s a funny thing. Now I have another chance."

His eyes gleam with ambition, madness. "I get to kill two birds with one stone. I marry you, and not only do I align the Bratva and the Cartel, but I raise my status in the cartel."

He steps closer. I flinch away.

"I've worked my ass off for years, selling drugs, running guns, playing lapdog to the bosses. Still can't break into Thiago's inner circle. But you?" He points at me like I’m a prize. "You’re my golden ticket."

Rage simmers in my blood. I glare at him, every cell in my body rejecting the insanity of his words. "You're delusional," I spit.

He shrugs. "Maybe. But that won’t stop me."

The door slams shut again, locking me in with the echo of his madness still hanging in the air. I back into a corner, breath shallow, pulse thundering in my ears.

This man doesn’t just want ransom. He wants to own me. Control me. Use me. But I am not his prize. I am not his bride. And I will never stop fighting.

Viktor will come. He always does.