Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Prologue - Sophia, Ten Years Ago

My mother’s heels click loudly against the pavement as we walk. I trail behind her, my heart thudding in my chest as I take in the towering mansion ahead. The gates had opened for us without a word, and now we’re headed inside, past thick walls that make me feel small, even though I’m almost as tall as her already. I don’t know where we are or why we’re here, but something in the air feels wrong. Tense. Heavy.

She hasn’t said much since we left the house, her face unreadable, set in that stern expression she wears when something serious is happening. I’m used to that look. It usually means trouble. It’s strange to be here, wherever here is. We’ve never been anywhere this nice before, and I have no idea what business my mother has at a place like this.

We stop in front of the massive wooden doors, and before I can catch my breath, they open, revealing a tall man in a black suit. He nods at my mother without a word and gestures for us to follow. The inside of the house feels even more intimidating than the outside—large chandeliers hang from high ceilings, and the walls are lined with paintings that seem older than anything I’ve ever seen.

I try to stay quiet, to make myself as small as possible as we follow the man down a hallway. My mother walks with confidence, her back straight, her head held high, like she belongs here. I wish I had that kind of certainty.

The man leads us into an office, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the figure sitting behind an enormous desk. He’s tall, even sitting down, his presence filling the room. His dark hair is neatly combed back, and his piercing eyes focus on my mother with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. I feel like I shouldn’t be here, like I’m intruding on something I don’t understand.

My mother steps forward, her heels clicking on the marble floor before stopping in front of his desk. I stand a little behind her, keeping my gaze low.

The man looks at her, his expression unreadable. “Do I know you?” His voice is cold, controlled. There’s no warmth in it, no curiosity. Just business.

My mother’s chin lifts slightly. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as he studies her face. “Should I?”

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance, maybe. Or something else I can’t quite place. She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “We’ve met before. It was years ago. You visited my brothel.” Her voice is calm, almost too calm, like she’s rehearsed this moment over and over in her head.

My heart stutters, and I blink, my mind struggling to keep up with the words she’s saying. I glance at her, confused, but she doesn’t look at me. Her focus is entirely on the man in front of her. My stomach twists in knots. Something’s wrong.

The man leans back in his chair, his eyes sweeping over my mother’s face before flickering toward me. His gaze lingers for a second, and I feel a cold shiver run down my spine.

“Go on,” he says, his voice colder now.

My mother steps to the side, and for the first time, I realize she’s moving to put me in front of her, presenting me. “This is your daughter.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stand there, frozen, my mind scrambling to understand what’s happening. His daughter? How can that be possible?

I look up at the man, who’s now staring at me. His eyes roam over my face, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something in his expression—recognition. His jaw tightens, and he glances back at my mother.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s no conviction in his voice. It’s like he’s saying the words because he feels like he should, not because he believes them.

My mother takes a step forward, her voice steady. “Kace, she’s yours. I had no reason to find you before now, but look at her. She looks like you.”

I stand there, my whole body tense, wishing I could disappear. This can’t be true. It doesn’t make sense. I barely know anything about my father—my mother’s never talked about him—but this man? The cold, powerful figure sitting behind the desk? He’s nothing like I imagined.

The silence in the room is suffocating. The man studies me again, his eyes sharp and calculating. I can feel him dissecting every part of me, every feature, like he’s piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know he had.

“You’re saying….” He finally speaks, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You’re saying she’s mine.”

My mother nods, her gaze unyielding. “You know she is.”

For a long moment, he says nothing. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable, but I can feel the weight of his realization sinking in. He knows. The truth is written all over his face.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. “She’s the spitting image of my sister. The family always had strong genes,” he says, his voice hard with finality. There’s no question in it, no uncertainty. Just fact.

I don’t know what that means for me, but I know my life just changed forever.

The room feels impossibly still, the weight of Kace’s words sinking in like stones dropping into water. I stand there, frozen, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened— who he just said I am. His daughter. I glance up at him, this stranger who suddenly holds the key to my entire identity, and feel a strange mix of fear and curiosity.

Kace shifts in his chair, his eyes still on me, but his expression hardens as he turns to my mother. “I’m going to offer you money. You’ll take the money,” he says, his voice cutting through the thick silence, “and in return, you’ll disappear from her life. Permanently.”

His words hit me like a slap. I blink up at my mother, my heart pounding, waiting for her to protest, to say something—anything—that would make this moment feel less like a nightmare. I want her to fight for me, to argue that she belongs in my life. Instead, her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite name—relief, maybe?—and she nods.

Just like that.

“Agreed,” she says, her voice emotionless.

A hollow pit forms in my stomach as I watch the two of them—this man I’m supposed to call my father, and the woman who raised me—exchange a look that makes me feel like nothing more than a bargaining chip. My mother’s hand rests on my shoulder for a moment, but it’s not a comforting gesture. It’s light, fleeting, as if she’s already preparing to let me go.

Kace pulls out a drawer from the desk, revealing a stack of money. He counts it out methodically, the soft rustle of bills the only sound in the room. My mother doesn’t flinch or hesitate. She takes the money when he hands it to her, stuffing it into her bag without a second glance.

Then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, her footsteps fading down the long corridor. I want to scream after her, ask her why she’s leaving so easily, but my voice doesn’t come. I stand rooted to the spot, my throat tight, watching the door swing shut behind her.

It’s just me and him now.

Kace stands from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at me like he’s trying to figure out what to do with me. I feel small under his gaze, even though he’s not particularly harsh or angry. He’s simply… there, looming over me like a shadow I’ll never escape.

Finally, he speaks, his voice softer than before but no less commanding. “Your full name from now on will be Sophia Preston.”

Preston. My last name now. It feels foreign on my tongue, like it doesn’t belong to me. I don’t argue. I’m too numb to say anything. I just nod, staring down at the polished floor, waiting for something, anything, to make this moment feel real.

He walks around the desk, his footsteps heavy, until he’s standing right in front of me. For a second, I think he might touch my shoulder, or say something reassuring, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me.

“You’re mine now,” he says quietly. “My daughter.”

The words hang in the air between us, thick with unspoken meaning. I don’t know what being his daughter means, not yet. I don’t know what he expects from me, or what life with him will look like. But as I stand there, a strange sensation settles over me—something I’ve never really felt before. It’s not quite comfort, but it’s close. Safety, maybe. Or belonging.

Kace isn’t a warm man; that much is obvious. There’s something in his eyes—an acknowledgment, a claim—that makes me feel like, for the first time, I have a place. A real place.

My life before this moment was chaotic, filled with uncertainty, with a mother who treated me more like a burden than a child. The world I come from was loud, messy, and uncaring. Now, standing in this opulent mansion, I feel a flicker of something unfamiliar—a quietness, a calm I’ve never known. Maybe it’s the certainty in Kace’s voice when he said I was his. Maybe it’s the weight of the name Preston, a name that carries power.

I shift on my feet, unsure of what to say, unsure of what I’m supposed to do now.

Kace seems to notice my hesitation, and for the first time, his lips twitch into what might be considered a smile. It’s not a warm one, not by any stretch, but it’s not cruel either. “You’ll learn quickly,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. “Everything you need will be provided for. You’ll want for nothing.”

I nod, the words sinking in. I’ve never had much, never known what it’s like to want for nothing. The promise of stability, of certainty, is both terrifying and strangely appealing.

He studies me for another long moment, then gestures toward the door. “Go on. Explore the house. You’ll be living here now.”

My feet move before my mind can catch up, taking me out of the office and into the hallway beyond. As the door closes behind me, the weight of what just happened settles in fully. I’m not the same person I was an hour ago. I’m no longer just Sophia—I’m Sophia Preston.

I walk through the grand hallways, the silence around me almost unsettling. Everything here is so different from the life I knew. The walls are lined with expensive paintings, the floors polished to a shine, and every room I pass looks more elaborate than the last. It’s overwhelming, but there’s something else too—something quieter. For the first time in my life, I feel like I might be… safe.

There’s a warmth growing inside me, small but undeniable. I never received much affection, never knew what it felt like to be cared for. And while I know Kace isn’t the kind of man who will offer love freely, there’s something about knowing I’m his daughter that fills a void I didn’t even know was there.

I’m not sure what kind of father he’ll be, but for the first time, I feel like I belong somewhere.

This is my new life.