Page 69 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Rummaging through my purse, I pull out the key. My chest twists painfully when I walk inside and lock the door behind me. I’ve only been away for a few weeks, yet the apartment I lived in for years feels unfamiliar.

It’s small, but it used to be my cozy little home. Chloe and I would plop down on the L-shaped sofa on Friday night eating pizza and beer while we watched Avatar, our favorite show.

But that no longer feels like a routine I’d find comfort in.

Home for me now means lying on Igor’s chest and letting him wrap his arms around me. As I drift off to sleep, I imagine he’s lying beside me, holding me again.

***

I jerk awake with a sharp gasp, my heart hammering violently against my ribs before I even understand where I am.

Darkness greets me.

The apartment is pitch-black except for the pale glow of the digital clock on the microwave across the living room.

2:17 a.m.

For several long seconds, I sit perfectly still, trying to steady my breathing as I listen for whatever it is that woke me up. I’m sure I heard something, but the only thing I can hear now is the frantic pounding of my own heart.

I draw in a sharp breath, holding my head. It aches from all of the crying and thinking I did yesterday. My stomach rumbles, demanding food, but I don’t think I’d be able to hold anything down because of how nauseous I feel.

The fact that Matthew is still in Serrano’s hands weighs heavily on my conscience.

What if Serrano kills him?

What if—

I stop myself from ruminating on the same negative thoughts over and over again. Serrano won’t kill him. I’ll find a way to help Matthew, even if I have to return to Igor and beg him to forgive me. I’ll just have to wait for his anger to pass, and then I’ll explain everything to him so he’ll see I didn’t betray him.

He’ll help me.

At least, I hope he will.

The pounding in my head grows even stronger. I push up from the couch and make my way to the kitchen, running my hand over the counter to find the painkillers I usually keep there. Groaning with relief when I find the bottle, I pop two pills in my mouth and push them down my throat with water from the tap.

A bang comes from the door. Air stalls in my lungs and my entire body freezes when I hear male voices outside. They’re not loud enough for me to make out what they’re saying, but I can hear enough to know they’re speaking Spanish.

Serrano’s men speak Spanish.

Ice floods my veins.

No, no, no...

My phone.

Where’s my phone?

Adrenaline slams into me. I scramble away from the counter and hurry to the living room, my eyes darting frantically around the apartment until I spot my purse lying beside the coffee table.

Another thud sounds on the door, rattling it.

A strangled breath catches in my throat as I dive for my bag, fumbling so badly the contents spill onto the floor. Lipstick. Keys. Receipts from the gas station.

Goddammit.

My fingers finally close around my phone, and I sigh with relief. I unlock the screen with shaking hands, already scrolling for Igor’s number, but before I can tap the dial icon, the front door explodes inward with such force that the entire apartment trembles.

The sound tears a scream from my throat.