Page 19 of Pregnant Virgin of the Bratva

“No,” I say. “I expect you to make a choice.”

The silence stretches, brittle. Then finally, she gives a slow nod. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

“You had better.”

I turn to leave, but her voice stops me. “Wait.”

It’s soft. Barely more than a breath, not demanding or defiant. When I glance back, her expression is different.

The fear that’s been simmering beneath the surface is no longer buried. It’s in her eyes now—clear and open, no longer masked by fury or sarcasm. She looks like someone whose strength is starting to run out.

I step back toward her slowly.

She swallows. “How long are you planning to keep me?”

The question hangs between us. I watch her hands flex against her legs, fingers curling in toward her knees, as if bracing for the answer.

I could lie. I could say not long. I could say until I’m sure she won’t talk.

“I don’t know,” I say instead, and watch her squirm.

Her lips press together. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Oh, sweetheart, try me.”

“I didn’t ask to be involved.”

“So?”

She exhales, shaky. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear. I don’t care what you were doing or who that man was. I just want to go home.”

“There’s no guarantee you’ll stay quiet.”

“I will.”

“You say that now.”

Her eyes flash. “People are looking for me. I’m not nobody. Someone will come.”

“Who?” I ask, not cruelly, but pointedly. “Your phone was dead. You didn’t check in with anyone. You don’t live with anyone. Who’s coming?”

She opens her mouth to answer—then closes it. Her shoulders sink, the weight settling deeper now.

I lean forward slightly. “I’m not underestimating you, Esme. You’re clever. You’re stronger than you look, but threats won’t help you here. You already tried to run. That was your one attempt. The next time ends differently.”

She looks up at me again. Her chin lifts, but there’s no fire behind it now. Just exhaustion. “So what happens next?”

“You sleep in a real bed. You eat something again tomorrow. You learn to stop flinching every time I enter the room.”

She watches me closely. “And after that?”

I give her the truth, leaning against the doorway and grinning down at her. “We’ll see.”

I leave the room without another word.

She agreed not to run. For now, that will have to be enough. If she chooses to test me again, the rules will change. That is her choice to make.

The corridor outside is cooler than the basement room. The air is still, quiet except for the low mechanical hum that runs through the building like a distant heartbeat. My boots echo faintly as I walk, the sound of them steady, grounding. The sharp rhythm helps clear the lingering tension from my chest. I reach the stairwell and pause, one hand on the metal railing, intending to keep moving.