Page 14 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva (Tarasov Bratva #12)

How long had it been? Five, six days? I wasn’t sure anymore. Time went by like a blur down here, and with each passing day, I felt the life draining out of me. At first, I thought it was hunger and that maybe if I stopped rejecting their meals, I’d feel a little better.

Well, my stomach was grateful to finally have something inside it after all this time. But then, I realized that it wasn’t just the lack of food that drained my strength. It was something else, and whatever it was, it was starting to get worse every day.

I felt dirty inside and out, my body arched all the time, and I was constantly nauseous. Something was wrong with me. Perhaps I was sick; perhaps it was a result of being confined here with limited air and sunlight exposure.

Every cell in my body was weak; my back hurt, my breasts were full, and my head was constantly aching.

My lips were dry, cracked, and I felt heavier, slower, less and less agile every day.

This place was slowly draining the life from my body; the walls felt suffocating, and I always felt like I could barely breathe.

I fought to stay alive, struggled to sleep every night, and hated waking up to my aches every morning. I didn’t think I’d ever miss my room back in the Moretti manor. But here I was, dreaming about my comfy bed, the fireplace to keep me warm, and the liberty to move around.

My father’s mansion might have been a prison, but at least there, I was respected and wasn’t treated like an animal. Sure, Dad was another monster on his own, but Yulian was worse, and it sucked to be his victim.

Every day, my hatred for him waxed stronger and stronger.

The fact that he left me here to rot only proved how heartless he was.

If I ever got out of this mess in one piece, I’d drive a knife through his fucking skull.

His beef was with my father, yet I was the one paying the price. How was that fair?

Both men were monsters, and I was unfortunate enough to be one caught in the crossfire. I wished I hadn’t listened to Laura when she asked me to stay back. I wished I’d fought more when Franco and those two idiots came after me.

I was only in this mess because my father’s men found me, because I let them take me back home.

I was losing not just my strength, but my sanity too. Maybe it wouldn’t be long now before I’d start hallucinating and eventually lose my freakin’ mind. It was freezing in here, and the thin blanket tossed to me two days ago did little to prevent the unforgiving cold from seeping into my bones.

I was dehydrated, and these past two days, each time I tried to stand, my head would spin, tossing me back to the ground. My throat was dry, food no longer stayed down, and every hour that passed, I felt worse than before.

That bastard wanted me to perish in here. It’s clear to me now. He was a heartless son of a bitch, and I hated him with every fiber of my being. There was a fuckin’ camera in here, meaning he was watching me—he’d been watching since the day his goons kidnapped me.

Yulian knew that I was going through hell; he saw it the last time he was here, and I was certain that he could see my struggles through the CCTV’s live feed. Yet, he chose to do nothing.

He claimed I was no use to him dead, but he sure as hell wasn’t making any moves to keep me from dying. Maybe he enjoyed this—watching me suffer, struggling to hold on to what little sanity and life I had left in me. If so, he enjoyed it a little too much.

I swear to God, if I die down here, my vengeful spirit will haunt this mansion and kill every living thing—man and animal alike.

I sat in the corner of the room, legs pulled to my chest, and arms wrapped around them. My body trembled, and my teeth clenched as I fought the fever threatening to take my life. My skin was burning, slick with cold sweat.

My head was heavy, as were my eyes, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding like a drum in my chest. I felt my soul gradually leaving my body. And in that moment, all I could think about was how my ghost would torment that son of a bitch, Yulian—make him suffer.

My eyes felt like they were burning. Literally. My lips quivered, and when I heard the front door open, my heart skipped a beat.

I raised my head, and there he was, slowly closing the distance between us. Although my vision was blurry at the moment, I knew it was him—Yulian. His cologne gave him away. His footsteps echoed off the walls, each click amplifying my headache.

“You look like hell…” he said, his voice trailing off, fading into the background.

By now, I was already on my feet. Barely. I hadn’t so much as taken one step forward when I felt the ground rising to meet me. My eyes rolled backward, and the world went dark.

However, before I drifted unconscious, I thought I heard him say, “Hold on, I got you.”

Maybe he did say that. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was the fever. Maybe it wasn’t.

Whatever the case, I felt his strong arms catch me before my body hit the floor.

Then, I passed out.

***

I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but when I finally came to, everything was different.

My eyelids fluttered open, a slight groan escaping my lips as I blinked a few times to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. Although my vision was still blurry, I knew for a fact that this wasn’t the dungeon.

No.

It was a master bedroom.

My eyes squinted at the chandelier’s soft light, while I scanned the opulent room, drinking in the exquisite interior. The bed beneath me was super comfy, as were the pillows under my head. It was warm in here, and the thick white blanket that covered me felt like clouds wrapped around my body.

It was heavy—but plush—and strangely comforting. I winced, a hand flying to my forehead as I adjusted beneath the blanket, safe and unharmed. My body was still a little sore, and a dull ache lingered at the back of my head. The fever had broken, but it wasn’t completely gone.

The faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air, mixed with the rich and masculine aroma of Yulian’s cologne.

This must be his bedroom.

That thought hadn’t fully settled when I caught sight of the giant portrait of him hanging on the wall.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” he said, his voice deep, husky, and closer than I thought.

My jaw tightened, and I turned to face him, furious—all that pain and resentment flooding back in.

He was seated on a sofa beside the bed, legs stylishly crossed like a man in control of the situation.

“You son of a bitch,” I cussed, struggling to sit with my back against the bed’s headboard.

“Now that’s no way to say, ‘thank you,’” he said, that twisted smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I glared at him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You kidnapped me, threw me in a fuckin’ basement, starved me for days, and now you want a ‘thank you’?” The words tumbled out of my mouth in an angry rush, clipped and shaking.

“I didn’t starve you,” he said calmly. “You refused to eat. But then again, I’m not surprised by your manipulation.”

Manipulation? My scowl deepened, rage flashing in my eyes. “You’re a monster.”

“Maybe. But so is your father,” he said, a glint of anger creeping into his tone.

“Then why don’t you go after him like a man?” I snapped, my voice sharp and unapologetic. “He’s the one you want, isn’t he? Why drag me into this? Why make me suffer for his crimes?!” My voice cracked, and I felt the nasty sting of tears in my eyes.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze pinned on me like a hook to a fish.

“You know what I think?” I continued, fighting back my eyes. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re afraid to face my father, so instead, you chose to face me.”

Still nothing. Not a single word.

His silence infuriated me, fueled my rage to the point where I found myself struggling to stand. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Hmm?” I rose to my feet, my chest rising and falling. “Say something, goddammit!”

Yulian just sat there, exuding an air of confidence and composure, like he was in total control. His expression was blank, with no signs of emotion at all. Not anger. Not guilt. Not even that twisted, self-satisfied smirk of his. Nothing.

And God, I hated how calm he was, how his silence made me feel stupid.

Then I felt it—that wave of nausea that washed over me like a flood. My hand darted upward and covered my mouth, my eyes scanning the room for the bathroom door.

The moment I spotted it, I bolted, footsteps pounding against the marble floor. I pushed the door open and rushed to dip my face in the sparkling clean toilet seat. My fingers gripped the edge of the seat, my eyes bulging out as I vomited what little food was in my belly.

Once done, the headache returned, forcing my eyes shut. I flushed the toilet, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and sat on the cool floor, back against the wall.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

I managed to rise, walked to the sink, and rinsed my mouth before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a shadow of myself—pale skin, cracked lips, swollen eyes, and a tangled mess of hair.

It was horrific seeing how much weight I’d lost—how glaring my collarbone had become. One look at me, and anyone could tell I was malnourished—hell, they might even mistake me for a cancer patient.

I wiped the single tear that streamed down my cheek, my heart filled with nothing but pain and anger.

My head still hurt, and my waist was killing me. I felt dizzy and desperately needed to lie down. With my fingers digging into my temples in a massaging motion, I headed out of the bathroom.

Yulian was by now already on his feet, and when he looked at me, I could swear that I saw a glimpse of concern in his eyes. Just a glimpse.

I staggered, barely making it to the bed when he reached out, as if to help.

“Don’t touch me!” I snarled, slapping off his hand.

One step further, and I was already crashing to the floor, lightheaded. Luckily for me, Yulian had nice reflexes. His hand snapped out and grabbed me by the wrist, then pulled me to himself.

I was so dizzy that I could hardly stand—it felt like the whole room was spinning. My breath was shallow, my eyelids too heavy to open. Yulian’s voice echoed in my head, as if anchoring me to reality. His tone was tinged with traces of something that, if I didn’t know better, I’d call concern.

I collapsed into his body, my head resting on his broad chest. I felt his arms around me, protective and strong.

And just like that, I passed out. Again.