Page 13 of The Russian's Bought Bride

“Lie back,” Liam says, sharper now as he takes a small step closer, looking slightly more concerned than he has any right to be.

“No!” I snap, pushing through the ache. “Not until you tell me—”

“Danielle.”

My name comes out like a warning.

Hearing it from him, this stranger, makes my skin crawl. If he knows my name, that means he was involved somehow.

We both pause this time, like we’re trying to gauge the other’s next move. There are too many things he’s not saying, and it keeps me on edge.

My chest tightens, breaths coming faster and harder.

“I want the truth,” I say, each word trembling but firm as I try to stand my ground despite not knowing him or his intentions. “Right now.”

Liam looks at me with the kind of intensity that I can’t fully read, and whatever he sees there—likely fear, desperation, and the fact that I’m not going to stop—seems to make the decision for him.

Something shifts in his expression, looking more final than I expected.

Without warning, more dread floods me, and I suddenly don’t want to hear what he’s about to say. Somewhere deep down, it’s like I already know. At the same time, I need confirmation.

“Your father is dead.”

Despite how immediately the words sink in, feeling completely wrong, my mind rejects them instantly, refusing to even acknowledge them after everything.

“No,” I say automatically. “No, that’s not…that’s not possible.”

His gaze doesn’t waver, regardless of how devastating the news is. “They killed him at that clinic, and they were going to kill you, too.”

“No,” I repeat, louder this time as I shake my head hard despite the dizziness it brings. “No, you’re lying. They were supposed to use mine instead of the synthetic one. They said it was going to work, they—”

“They lied.”

“Stop it!” I shout, my voice cracking as tears burn at the corner of my eyes. “You don’t know that. You weren’t there!”

“I was.”

I pause at that, seeing through the confusion long enough to flag it. The room feels stiflingly quiet again.

Who is this man?

“What?”

“I was there,” he repeats, his confidence telling me it isn’t a lie. “I got you out before they could finish.”

My chest heaves as my thoughts scramble, trying to piece together something that makes sense. But nothing does. None of it.

I try to say something, but nothing feels significant enough to capture everything I’m feeling. The words won’t come out as they stick in my throat, nearly choking me.

His expression doesn’t soften, and it doesn’t change. That’s what breaks me even further, because if he was lying, there would be something else there. He would hesitate, or seem uncertain at the very least, but he doesn’t. There’s only honesty in those hazel eyes.

And I hate it.

“I want to go back,” I say suddenly, the words tumbling out in a rush before I can think it through. “Take me back to the hospital. I’ll talk to the doctors, I’ll—I need to see him—”

“You can’t.” Liam murmurs, as if it’s obvious.

“Why not?”