Forced By the Ruthless Bratva Beast (Tarasov Bratva #3)

Chapter 21 – Roman

In the front passenger seat, my chest heaved slowly, eyes narrowing down the road as Boris accelerated onward, recklessly speeding through the snow-covered streets of Bigfork, Montana.

Behind were more black vehicles—my men following up with the same speed. Our grand arrival prompted the few people lingering here and there to turn their heads at us.

Did she really think that I wouldn't find her anywhere she hid?

It had taken over seven months, but eventually, my men were able to track her down to this small, quiet town in Montana. She'd hidden long enough; it was time she paid for her sins.

Julia had cost me a lot of money just to find her, and now that I finally knew the exact place she was staying, I wasn't leaving here without her.

I hadn't given much thought to what I'd do once I set eyes on her again after all this time, but one thing was certain: She wouldn't slip through my fingers anymore.

My jaw clenched as I sat there in silence, patiently waiting for the time we'd arrive at her place. The further into Bigfork we traveled, the more my anger amplified.

I couldn't wait to see the look of shock and surprise on her face when she set eyes on me. I'd savor that moment—the moment I'd have my pound of flesh.

The sound of roaring engines filled the air, echoing across the landscape and the rocky mountains that surrounded the town. Our vehicles glided over the road that snaked through the settlement with delicate curves and gentle slopes.

Almost at the outskirts of the town, Boris rounded a corner with a sharp, precise swerve, tires screeching against the tar.

A small cottage house came into view, and just in front of it, he brought the car to a swift halt. “We're here,” he announced, his voice low and smooth.

My scowl deepened as my eyes flew across the building up ahead. The car door gave a soft click as I opened it and stepped out, my feet stomping on the snow.

The other vehicles arrived, their tires screeching to a stop outside the building while I made my way to the entrance, balling both hands into fists.

With all that rage surging through me like jolts of electricity, I lifted a leg in the air, and seconds later, I kicked against the wooden front door. The impact was so strong that it knocked the door from the hinges, revealing the cozy interior.

The wind whispered into the house, carrying particles of snowflakes, its faint whistle filling the air.

“Tommy, get behind me!” Julia yelled, quickly grabbing a shotgun from the wall.

The boy ran to seek shelter at her back as she pointed her weapon at the entrance, ready to pull the trigger.

Impressive.

But pathetic.

“Stay back!” Her hand moved deftly, cocking the gun in place, the sound echoing across the room.

I watched the fire in her eyes dull, draining the courage from their depths the moment she realized who was by the door. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest swelling in fear as her hands trembled on the gun.

My shoes clicked against the wooden floor as I waltzed inside with menacing steps, savoring the terror in her gaze.

She stood frozen in shock, barely able to maintain her grip on the shotgun.

“There you are,” I whispered, my tone laced with hatred and fury, my blazing eyes narrowing at her. “I've waited a long time to see that look on your face.”

Boris and a couple of my men walked in, surrounding the living room, while the others guarded the vehicles outside.

“Drop the gun, Julia,” I said, my intense gaze never leaving her terrified face.

Without a moment of hesitation, she let the weapon fall from her hold, her protective arms flying behind her back, shielding her brother from us.

Their matching oversized sweaters and woolen hats—a testament to their connection—struck me with the perfect idea to begin her torture.

My brows furrowed as I watched her stand like a human shield, hands wide apart, protecting her little brother like a mother hen.

Excellent.

“Get the boy,” I ordered, basking in her reaction.

“What? No! No, no, no…!” The words burst out of her mouth in a nervous rush, her eyes widening in fear.

Boris stepped forward and grabbed the boy by the arm against her futile struggles.

“No, let him go! Let him go, please—he has nothing to do with this!” She launched what seemed like an attempted attack, her hands fists bouncing off Boris's rigid form.

The boy wept, his body shuddering as he was being held down to the ground, Boris pointing a gun at his head.

Julia dropped to her knees, eyes misting as her palms closed in together in a pleading gesture. “Please…don't hurt him. He didn't do anything.” She held my gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I'm begging you, Roman,” she said amidst sobs. “I'm the one you want, and you can do whatever you want to me. Just please…let my brother go. He has nothing to do with this. Please, Roman. Take me instead.” Her voice broke as she spoke, pleading with her teary eyes.

As monstrous as she thought I was, I'd never kill a kid, but she didn't know that, and I was going to keep it that way. Putting the idea in her head that I could take his life at any time was just the beginning of her torment.

“On your feet.” I tightened my jaw, unfazed by her emotional breakdown.

Something was different about her, but I couldn't figure out what—I was too angry to think about that. But she did look bigger, or maybe it was just the bulky fabric that hung loosely over her form.

She got up, sniffling, her eyes tinged red from crying.

Quietly, I stepped forward, gritting my teeth in an attempt to control my anger. She retracted, shrinking in absolute fear the closer I drew toward her. Her throat wobbled as she swallowed hard, terror flickering in her gaze.

“Not so brave now, are you?” I questioned, casting a glare at her.

She hit her back against the wall, her lips quivering as I halted in front of her, my gaze still lingering, feeding my eyes with the horror in hers.

“You targeted me because you wanted my attention,” I began, my voice thick and threatening. “Now, you have it. You have my full attention, Julia Gray.”

Tears wouldn't stop flowing as she shook her head, muttering silent words I assumed were pleas.

“Who're you working for?” I asked, “Who sent you?”

She swallowed, her eyes boring into mine as if searching for something, but the only thing in their depths was fury. “No one,” she said.

My rage was amplified by her lie, causing my forehead to crease. “Don't bullshit me, Julia!” I thundered, almost losing my cool, my hand slamming against the wall behind her.

She flinched reflexively, shutting her eyes momentarily. “I swear I'm not working for anyone.”

I frowned, stealing a glance at her whimpering brother. “Boris,” I called, my tone hinting at an instruction.

Boris got the message and cocked his pistol, the barrel still pointed at the boy's head.

“No, no, no!” she shrieked, hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, okay…I'm not working for anyone—but I'm working with someone,” she confessed, her eyes focused on her brother, who was shaking on the ground. “Please, don't hurt him.”

“Who are you working with?” I rephrased.

She returned her gaze to me. “An FBI agent who's spent years looking for a way to bring you and your family to justice.” She paused, panting with a heaving chest. “I swear, the only reason I was in on the plan was because I thought you killed my parents—you'd do the same if you were in my shoes; you'd want revenge, too.” She wept, drying her tears with intermittent sniffles.

She was trying to toil with my emotions, to get me to sympathize with her—to see things from her perspective. Despite my anger, I knew deep down that she had a point, but her betrayal was all that rang in my head.

“I didn't kill your parents, Julia,” I said through gritted teeth, my heart burning with hurt. “Anthony and I had our differences, but I didn't have any reason to kill him, let alone his wife….” I felt a flicker of disappointment at how lowly she thought of me.

In spite of our ruthlessness, the Bratva had rules; we weren't mindless animals who did things without considering the consequences. We killed only when necessary, and that wasn't the case with her family.

“I know.” She nodded, her voice soft and barely above a whisper.

My brows knitted together, accentuating the puzzled expression on my face. What was she talking about? What did she mean?

“The day I found out that it wasn't you was the same day you found out who I truly was.” She fixed her gaze on me. “So…I ran.”

“If I didn't do it, then who did?” I asked, my eyes narrowing to highlight my piqued curiosity.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes widened at my question. I could almost hear the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. It was like she was afraid to say the name of the one responsible for her parents’ death. Her lips twitched at the corners but produced no words.

“Answer me!” I thundered impatiently.

“Your Uncle Ivan!” She raised her voice, blurting out the words that struck me like lightning.

For a second, I stood frozen in shock at this insane revelation. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the deep creasing lining of my forehead. My lips pressed into a thin line, and my shoulders tensed as my chest expanded in anger.

“How dare you?” My hand flew to her face, fingers digging into her jaw as I glared at her, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me.

She panted, holding her breath as tears trickled down her cheeks. Her nostrils flared at the pain I was inflicting on her jaw. She knew it was futile to try and resist—my grip was too tight.

I edged closer so she could see the rage flickering in my eyes. “You dare accuse my uncle? You must have a death wish.”

She slowly shook her head, her tears flowing like a river. “I'm accusing him. It was your uncle…I swear.” Her voice was barely audible as my grip against her jaw restricted her ability to speak.

It wasn't until I leaned forward that I felt her protruding stomach, prompting me to pause for a moment. My eyes darted down to her belly and then returned to her face, but now, she wouldn't look me in the eyes.

Julia did her best to avoid my gaze.

What mystery did she have going on this time?

My brows narrowed, and a gasp came forth as I let go of her, taking a single step back. Her body was tensing, her breathing growing heavier by the second as she rubbed her jaw in a massaging motion. Her head was bowed, and her shoulders were slumped.

She was nervous.

I dropped my eyes to her belly and swiftly tugged up the hem of her bogus sweater.

That instant, my brows arched in surprise. “You're pregnant?” The words jumped out of my mouth as I returned my gaze to her bowed face.

Julia still avoided my eyes, and she wouldn't lift her head.

“Look at me, goddamn it!” I jerked her chin, forcibly staring at her.

She was weeping with quivering lips; her entire body was shuddering as she stared back at me, stunned, immobile.

My heart was racing. One hand balled into a fist as a myriad of thoughts overlapped in my mind.

Has she been with someone else while on the run from me?

Jealousy crept in, fueling my rage.

My chest heaved heavily, veins bulging. “Who is he?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Who's the father?”

With that kind of rage swelling in me, if I saw him in the house, I'd use her shotgun to rip a hole right through him.

“You are,” she declared, looking deep into my eyes. “You're the father, Roman. You.”

Her words hit me like a live grenade and sent me stumbling on my feet—speechless. Literally.

“Don't believe her, Boss. She could be lying again,” Boris said, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“I'm not,” she replied without taking her eyes off me, like she wanted me to see the truth in their depths.

I didn't expect this revelation, and I’d yet to wrap my head around it. But we'd find out soon enough whether or not she was lying.

Then, I'd figure out what to do with her.