Page 62 of Bratva Menace

Shock registered across Lukyan’s face. His hold loosened slightly. I used it to my advantage and wedged my legs between us, planted my feet against his chest, and pushed. He flew back. I jumped up and ran for him, reaching into my pocket. I pulled out the pen, ducked under a powerful swing of his arms, darted forward, jammed the pen into his neck, and retreated just as quickly.

“What the fuck?” he hissed, stumbling back. His eyes grew wide. Angry. He took a step forward and swayed. “What⁠—”

“I’m sorry, my love. Sleep. Rest. We’ll talk soon.”

“What did…you…do…” Lukyan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he dropped, passed out.

I looked down at the tranq pen in my hand. I didn’t want to use it. I had hoped we could have a calm, rational discussion. Of course, I should have known that wouldn’t happen. Still, a girl could dream. Guilt wormed its way deep into my chest at his unconscious form lying on the ground. I had no choice. I knew that.

Didn’t make it any easier, though.

Blowing out a breath, I tossed the tranq pen to the side just as Cedric climbed to his feet, his face a mask of anger and frustration.

He made a move toward Lukyan. “I’m going to fucking kill him⁠—”

I swung my arm out to stop him, his chest running smack into it. “You’re going to do nothing. His reaction is understandable. Who wouldn’t try to escape when they’ve been kidnapped?” I straightened my spine and stretched my arms above my head, a yawn falling from my lips. “Take him to his room. Make sure he’s comfortable, and leave plenty of food and water for him. He didn’t eat much, and he’ll be hungry when he wakes.”

Cedric nodded, however begrudgingly.

I made my way toward the exit but stopped, glancing over my shoulder. “And Cedric?”

He lifted his gaze from Lukyan to me. “You’re not to harm a single hair on his head. You understand me?”

His jaw ticked slightly. “Understood.”

He didn’t like it. That much was obvious. But I had faith that Cedric would do as I ordered and not disobey me.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt in my gut that leaving Lukyan caused, I turned and walked out.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LYLA VOZNESENSKY

“Idon’t understand. Where is Lukyan?!” Dimitri thundered.

I moved about the room, completely invisible to the Volkovs as I went about my duties, clearing dinner. I had infiltrated Sergei’s grand estate by applying to be one of his maids a few weeks before. It was a crucial step not only in my plan, but Lev’s, too. I needed to know what was going on, and the only way to do that was to get myself into his house.

Luckily for me, Sergei needed an abundance of maids, and they never seemed to last long. The old fart had a short fuse, and it’d been well circulated that the reason he needed so many was because he lost his temper and ended up killing half of them.

I snuck in under a fake name—a fake identity curated by my brother. I told him the best way to complete our mission was to get into Sergei’s house, and he made it happen.

At the table sat Sergei, Dimitri, Anya’s father, Akim, and some random dude called Vernon. None of them paid me any attention as I picked up the somewhat empty plates in front of them. One thing I’d learned quickly was that waitstaff were quickly dismissed. We were invisible to others. Barely seen and never heard. It worked perfectly for me.

I tried to banish Lukyan from my mind so I could focus on the task at hand, but it was hard. After our conversation a few hours before, after knocking him out with that stupid tranq pen, I decided the best thing to do was a little recon. Ensure that everything had gone according to plan. That there was no blame being put on Lukyan or his family for what happened. I hoped that, by bringing him that good news, it might help him see that although our families were enemies, it didn’t mean we had to be.

Sergei glared at his son. Despite his age, he still looked good. Big and imposing. Fucking evil, if I were to pick a description. “Footage from the venue shows him being carried out by his wife.”

Me. I held in my giggle. I was Luykan’s wife. Dreams really did come true.

“And based on the note found in your home, Akim, it is safe to guess that it was not Anya,” Sergei finished, crossing his arms over his wide, massive chest.

Akim’s face flushed with anger. “I don’t know what happened. If that wasn’t Anya walking down the aisle, who the fuck was it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dimitri sneered. “She didn’t want to go through with the wedding, so she had someone else take her place so she could escape.” I wasn’t sure if he truly believed that, or if he’d merely come up with it to steer the blame away from his family to the Tarasovs. Either way, it worked. Sergei’s glare switched from Dimitri to Akim, and even I wanted to shrivel under it. The man had a mean glare.

“No.” Akim shook his head, almost as if he refused to believe it. “No, she wouldn’t do that. Anya understands her obligations. She wouldn’t run.”

Sergei held up the note. “Care to explain this, then? It is her handwriting, isn’t it?”