Page 3 of Watched and Bred by the Bratva (Bred by the Bratva #7)

H er eyelids twitch. Tiny jumps under her lashes, like her body is telling her mind it’s time. I lean forward on the edge of the chair, elbows on my knees, watching. Waiting. The room holds its breath with me.

Come on, Zara. Wake up.

Her eyes fly open and she drags in a gasp that scrapes her throat. She jerks upright. Only then do my lungs unlock. I knew she’d be all right, but knowing is not the same as seeing. Until she sat up, all I could do was what I’ve done since the first time I saw her—watch and wait.

Her hand trembles as it finds her forehead. She scans the room, then lands on me. The blanket yanks to her chest. Her spine hits the headboard.

“Where am I? What did you do to me? What’s going on?”

I gesture to the tray. “I’ll answer everything. First, drink some tea.”

Her brows pull tight. Her voice comes hoarse, dry. “You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’ll ever drink anything from you again.”

“Drink. Your. Tea.”

A silent battle stretches between us. I’ve never been more pleased to engage.

That glare means her mind is sharp and her fire’s intact—good signs.

“I’ll tell you everything after you drink,” I add, even.

“That’s the third time I’ve said it. I don’t repeat myself.

You’re in my home. You’re not leaving. Hurry up before I lose my patience. ”

She can’t know I would lie down in the road and let her drive over me a hundred times before I’d lose patience with her. She lifts the cup anyway and drains it, eyes never leaving mine. The porcelain kisses the table with a deliberate clink.

“Before we begin,” I say, “one rule.”

Her stare sharpens. “What is the rule?”

“Honesty. When I ask a question, I want the truth. All of it.”

“What about you? Will you give me the truth?”

“Yes.” Nothing complicated. Just yes.

“Why did you bring me here?” She grinds the words like she’s pressing straw into gold.

“I wanted to give you your graduation present. A gift.”

“You couldn’t just leave it on the table like everyone else?”

“This one is hard to leave on a table.” I don’t wait for her to catch up. “Tell me, Zara—what do you want most in this world?”

Her brows knit so tight they almost meet. She bites her lip, searching for the trap. “To get my teaching license and start school in the fall. I want to be a good elementary teacher. That’s all.”

“I asked for the truth. That’s not all.” I hold her eyes. “What do you want? And this time, don’t lie.”

She searches my face. Silence stretches. A lift of one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. That’s lie number two. Try again.”

“Maybe… a family.”

“Finally.” I nod once. “But it’s not just a family. You crave safety. Security. I’m here to give you both.”

Her eyes widen. “Both. You mean safety and security, right?”

“No.” I let it land. “I mean our baby. And your safety. And your security. I’ll give you all three.”

“You’re offering me safety,” she says carefully. She doesn’t mention the baby. “But I already feel unsafe.”

I rise and step closer. Not heat. Not pressure. My hand curves around her throat the lightest touch, a cold reminder: she’s in my web, not the other way around. Her fingers wrap my wrist, testing what I’ll allow.

“No more lying,” I grind out. “Listen, because this matters. We’re at a beginning, and it starts with truth.” My hand slides to her cheek, knuckles brushing once before I drop it. “You are safe. I would never hurt you. You know that.”

My fingertip traces the bow of her lip. “Do you know who I am?”

Her eyes widen; she shakes her head.

“You know who I am,” I growl softly. “And what I do.”

She squeaks, words tripping. “I know you’re Dimitri’s cousin. I’ve heard you’re Bratva, but I don’t know anything. Do you think I overheard something?”

“Relax, little one.” My voice stays even. “In my world we protect our women. We make sure no harm touches them. If someone gets through, we rain fire on the ones who dared.”

She swallows and lifts her chin. “You said truth. So give me the truth. Why did you bring me here?”

“To give you what you went to that clinic for.”

Her mouth drops. Her throat works. “That’s impossible. There are privacy laws—how did you—”

“You’re in my world now. Consider yourself Alice in a hole where the rules are different. The laws protect files. They don’t shield patients from employees. Or from their owner.”

She blinks. “Wait. Are you telling me you own the clinic?”

“I do now.”

“And you bought it because—”

“Because of you.” I finish it for her. “You have one week until ovulation. When that day comes, it will be my pleasure, my honor, my duty to fill your precious body with every drop of my seed until you carry the child you’ve always wanted—the child I didn’t know I wanted until I met you.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispers.

“Let me make it clear. You’re mine. My woman.

My life. My future.” Her head shakes hard enough I cradle the back of it so she won’t hurt herself.

“I’ve seen your book collection,” I add, quieter.

“All those fantasy mafioso stories where men say ‘Mine’ like it’s a game.

I don’t say it lightly. This isn’t an author’s imagined happily-ever-after.

It’s reality—more fantastical than anything on the page.

You’ll have everything you dreamed of. That’s your real graduation.

I couldn’t wrap it and leave it on a table. ”

My thumb rests near the corner of her mouth; I feel the small swallow. Her lashes flicker. Finally: “You’ve been watching me.”

“Yes.”

“You were stalking me.”

“Yes.”

Silence charges the air.

“What happened with Wissam today?” she asks. “Why did he leave so suddenly after talking to me?”

“Another gift for my girl.” I let her see the truth in it.

“When he put his hands on you in that shop, I’ve never been more fevered to put a bullet in a man’s head.

The only things that saved him were your words—‘just a friend’—and that he’s leaving the country.

He keeps living under your protection. If he comes back, he doesn’t. ”

She inhales and exhales like she’s steadying a glass she doesn’t want to drop. “You’re crazy. Insane.”

I let my hands drop, curling them into fists so I don’t reach for her again.

“Those are cruel labels. Maybe.” A breath.

“I’ve heard it said that music soothes the savage beast.” I lean in, eyes locked on hers.

“Zara… you’re my symphony. I’m willing to pay any price for that concert for the rest of my life.

If it means giving you everything you’ve ever wanted, I will. I swear.”

“You don’t know what that is,” she whispers.

I take her hand, open her fingers, and thread them into my hair. Her eyes widen; a small gasp escapes.

“Then teach me,” I murmur. “Teach me, Zara.”