The Bratva Stalker and His Innocent Hostage Bride
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“Things you don’t understand. Things I’ve been trying to keep you safe from since the moment you walked into my systems.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I can handle myself, that I don’t need his protection, but the words stick in my throat because I know he’s right. I’m alone, unarmed, and in the middle of nowhere. Running was a desperate gamble, not a real plan.
He sees the resignation in my face. “Get in the car, Davina.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to keep trying to escape.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why bother bringing me back? Why not just lock me in a cell and throw away the key?”
He looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in.
“That’s not what I want.”
I stare at him, at the open door, at the dark road ahead that I’ll never reach tonight. Then I slide into the seat and stare straight ahead while he walks around to the driver’s side.
The engine starts. The car turns around. As I’m taken back to the mansion, knowing that no matter how far I run, I’ll never escape the truth: he can’t let me go.
Chapter Sixteen - Maxim
I don’t sleep that night.
The thought of her alone on that road, vulnerable to anyone who might come across her, makes something twist in my chest that I don’t have a name for. I’ve spent years building an organization that controls everything within its reach. I’ve eliminated threats, consolidated power, ensured that nothing happens in my territory without my knowledge.
Davina walked right out the door like none of it mattered.
I’m not angry about the escape. I’m angry about what the escape represented—her willingness to risk everything, including her own life, to get away from me.
That’s what I can’t stop thinking about as the sun comes up. That’s what’s still sitting in my gut when Andrei arrives for our morning briefing and finds me staring at nothing.
“You need to address the situation,” he says carefully. “The men are talking.”
“Let them talk.”
“They’re saying you’ve gone soft. That you’re keeping her close for personal reasons rather than strategic ones.”
I look at him. “What do you think?”
Andrei has seen me make decisions that would make lesser men flinch. He’s watched me eliminate threats and reward loyalty with equal dispassion.
“I think you need to decide what she is to you,” he says. “Right now, you’re treating her like something between a hostage and something else.”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying that ambiguity is dangerous. For you and for her.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but acknowledging it would mean admitting something I’m not ready to face.
“I’m taking her with me tonight,” I say instead.
Andrei’s eyebrows rise. “The dinner with Avrorin?”
“Yes.”