Page 33 of Kept By the Bratva

Duty first.

It always fucking was, and for the first time in my life, I hated it.

Amy was back home, waiting for me.

She needed me.

I knew she did.

While I couldn’t ever give herallthat she needed and deserved, I grew furious that my commitment to see to my Bratva’s needs would always stand between us.

They dragged me to a car, and I knew I was shoved back there with my brother. He cursed and threatened the Cartel the whole time as we were driven away, captured.

Not for long.Wherever they took us, there would be hell to pay.

14

AMY

Being tossed into a room and trapped behind locked doors was becoming my life. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. However, I felt like I was living a life I never could have dreamed of in here.

I didn’t know where I was. I had no means to contact anyone, and Missy was the only person I would have reached out to. But I was as pampered as could be. All day, through the night, and into the next morning, I was treated well.

An older woman entered the room to bring me water and food. A soldier-like, hard-looking guard came with her, and it dispelled any hope for escape. I ran out of breath asking them to explain something, anything, but both the kindly housekeeper and guard remained mute, ignoring my constant questions and begs for information. They didn’t react to my demands to let me go, either, but I said it anyway, too determined to survive this chaos and confusion of being a captive woman.

The longer Nik remained away—a lengthier amount of time than when he’d left me at the other apartment—the more I worried.

Could something have happened to him? I couldn’t bear the idea of him in pain. He hadn’t shown me pain and went out of his way to prevent it. I hadn’t forgotten how he’d stopped his friend from slapping me.

Could he be wounded? All I knew was that the strip club was on fire, and it was a prompt to get him running. Maybe the strip club washis, a part of his family’s business, and the more I picked at that specific idea, the deeper my uneasiness spread.

Family? As intheFamily?

I knew nothing about Nik, not who he really was, but I could have sworn those curses were Slavic or maybe Russian. If he had a “family” business, and he wasn’t afraid to kill people or wear wigs and contacts to disguise himself… If he meant family in the way some criminals referred to a syndicated crime organization…

I rubbed my stomach, pacing and wishing the breakfast the housekeeper had brought in didn’t smell so strong. I felt confident that I was on the right path of assumptions here.

I’m stuck within some twisted Mafia war.

A click sounded on the door, and I furrowed my brow at the noise. The housekeeper and guard duo had just come in. It couldn’t be them again, and I hadn’t seen anyone else.

Nik?

It wasn’t him, either. A curvy brunette entered the suite. Dressed in a fashionable dress and wearing heels, she strode in with a guard.

I backed up, suspicious of her entrance. As I neared the pot of coffee on the cart the housekeeper had wheeled in recently, I gagged at the smell.

“I—” I swallowed, not wanting to puke on this lovely carpet. I ran instead, hurrying toward the bathroom to empty more bile and dryheave. After the spell was finished, I wiped my mouth and got up, wondering if that woman was still here.

She was present, patient and waiting for me, seated at one of the chairs near the table. The cart was gone, and a guard brought in a tray with simpler fare—toast and water. A plate of salted crackers confused me. “Leave it there, please,” she ordered politely.

Whoever she was, she had a sense of authority, telling that man what to do. I sat opposite, wondering and hoping she could be an ally.

“Leave us,” she told the man.

He didn’t obey immediately, glancing at me as I rubbed my stomach. She arched a brow, and he turned to leave.

“What’s this?” I gestured at the saltines.