Page 28 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

This is different.

The handle shifts again. A faint metallic scrape.

My pulse changes instantly.

I sit up slowly on the couch, the blanket slipping off my legs and pooling at my feet. The apartment is darker than it should feel. Shadows are heavier now, pressed into corners I hadn’t noticed before.

I swallow once.

My fingers hover near the edge of the couch.

The sound comes again.

Faster now.

More insistent.

Not a key. Someone trying to force it.

My throat tightens.

I move carefully, standing without making noise. Every instinct I have is suddenly alert, sharp, awake in a way I didn’t choose.

I step closer to the hallway.

My apartment feels smaller than it did five minutes ago.

The lock gives a faint, final sound.

Something inside it breaks.

My stomach drops.

The door swings open. Cold air rushes in from the hallway. And then, strange men swoop in. Black clothing. Masks covering their faces completely. Too many to process at once.

My body reacts before my mind can fully catch up. I step back instinctively, my heel hitting the edge of the rug.

A scream builds instantly in my throat, but it never makes it out.

One of them moves first. Fast.

My breath cuts off as hands close around me before I can even understand distance or direction. Another grabs my arm, firm enough that panic spikes through me instantly.

I struggle—pure instinct, not thought.

“Let go—!” I try, but it breaks halfway, swallowed by the chaos.

Someone pulls my wrists behind me.

Another voice—low, unfamiliar—cuts through the room, but I don’t understand the words.

Everything is happening too fast.

Everything blurs as I’m pulled forward, my feet stumbling to keep up, fear flooding so fast it makes my vision sharpen painfully.

The last thing I see clearly before they move me fully into the hallway is my apartment light flickering against the wall and the door swinging shut behind us.

Darkness swallows everything immediately after.