Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Chapter Ten - Sophia

I sit with my back pressed against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest as my mind spins. My thoughts are a tangled mess of confusion, anger, and betrayal. Every word Maxim said runs through my head on repeat, like a cruel soundtrack I can’t escape. Worst of all, I remember him, I know he was that guy I bumped into before.

This whole thing has been a setup from the start, how long has he been watching me?

More to the point, was my father really setting me up with a murderer? Was he that desperate, that reckless?

It doesn’t seem possible, yet the pieces are starting to fall into place in a way that’s too painful to ignore.

Kace Preston, my father—the man who raised me, who always told me I was his little princess, someone he would protect—was ready to hand me over to Jackson Miller like I was some piece of property. Not only that, but Jackson wasn’t just some businessman with a bad attitude. He was a man with blood on his hands, a murderer who bought his way out of trouble. The thought makes my stomach turn. How could my father do this to me?

It’s like I’m realizing for the first time that I’ve been nothing more than a pawn in his game. My mother handed me over to him when I was twelve, like some kind of business transaction. I was a tool, someone he could use to solidify alliances, to get money, support, whatever he needed to survive in this world. Kace didn’t love me—he never did. He just… owned me.

Tears burn the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Crying doesn’t change anything. It won’t make this nightmare disappear. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fight the rising tide of emotions threatening to choke me.

And then there’s Maxim. A fresh wave of anger surges through me at the thought of him. He’s the one who shattered whatever illusion I had left about my father, and now, I’m nothing more than a prisoner under his watch.

Maxim Sharov.

The name alone sends a chill through me. The way he looked at me, like he could see right through me, like he knew every vulnerable part of me and enjoyed tearing me apart. I hate him for it. I hate how powerless he made me feel, how he stripped away everything in a few cold, calculated words.

He scares me. I can’t help it. His presence alone fills me with a sense of dread that I’ve never known before. But it’s more than fear. It’s the feeling of being trapped—trapped in his game, trapped by his revenge. I’m just another pawn, caught between my father’s sins and Maxim’s need for justice. I feel like a lamb in a den of wolves, waiting for the inevitable.

I shake my head, refusing to accept this. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to decide my fate. There has to be a way out. I glance around the room, searching for something, anything that could help me escape. I don’t care where I go, as long as it’s away from here, away from this nightmare.

My eyes drop to my ankle, and that’s when I notice it for the first time—a small, sleek metal anklet locked around my leg. My heart sinks as I touch it, the cool metal pressing against my skin. A tracking device. Of course.

Maxim is smarter than I gave him credit for. He’ll know wherever I go. There’s no way I can slip out unnoticed. Not with this thing on.

I stare at the anklet, feeling the weight of hopelessness settle over me like a heavy blanket. How did I not notice this earlier? The moment they brought me here, they ensured I wouldn’t be able to leave. I close my eyes, pressing my head back against the wall, frustration boiling inside me. I’m not even allowed to try. I’m trapped, physically and mentally. Maxim made sure of that.

Even with the device on my ankle, I know I have to try. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to use me, to destroy my life the way they’ve destroyed so many others. My father may have sold me off like some sheep, but I’m not going to just let them lead me to slaughter.

I stand up slowly, my legs weak from sitting on the cold floor for so long. My heart is pounding in my chest, but I push the fear aside. Fear won’t get me out of here. I need to think. I need a plan.

The first step is finding out how far I can get before they track me down. If I can create some kind of diversion, maybe buy myself enough time to at least get a head start, I might have a chance. I don’t know where I’ll go, but anywhere is better than being here—trapped under Maxim’s control, waiting for him to decide when my usefulness runs out.

I walk toward the door, my hand trembling as I reach for the knob. I can’t let them see me sweat. I have to act normal, like I’m resigned to my fate. The moment I get the chance, I’ll run. I’ll fight, if I have to. I refuse to be a prisoner any longer.

As I turn the knob, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever’s coming. I know it won’t be easy, and I know the odds are stacked against me. I have to try. I won’t let them win.

I won’t let Maxim destroy me.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching outside the door. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, my eyes darting toward the sound. The door opens, and Artem steps inside, carrying a tray of food. He’s tall, muscular, but his demeanor is different from Maxim’s. He doesn’t have that same cruel edge. Instead, his face is blank, almost businesslike, as he sets the tray on the small table in the corner of the room.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, his voice low but calm.

I don’t answer, just stare at him warily, my stomach twisting with unease. I’m not hungry. I’m terrified. The thought of eating makes me feel sick, and the sight of the food is just another reminder of how trapped I am. I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Artem looks at me, then down at the untouched tray. He sighs. “It’s not poisoned, you know.”

I blink, startled by his bluntness. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression, not cruel or mocking, just… matter-of-fact.

“If we wanted you dead, you’d already be dead,” he adds, as if that’s supposed to reassure me.

“That’s comforting,” I mutter, my voice shaky. I take another step back, my body tensing. I can feel my pulse racing in my neck, the fear creeping back up with every word he says.

Artem chuckles softly, the sound surprising me. It’s not cruel, more like a weary laugh, as if he’s tired of this whole situation too. “Look, I get it. You’re scared, but there’s no point in starving yourself.”

I narrow my eyes at him, unsure if I should believe him. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Maybe this is just another one of Maxim’s games.”

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he studies me for a moment. “Maxim doesn’t play games. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t bother with tricks. It would’ve already been done.”

The calm, businesslike tone in his voice sends a chill through me. He’s not trying to scare me—he’s just being honest. That’s what makes it so terrifying.

I swallow hard, feeling the lump in my throat grow. “So what happens to me?” I ask, my voice quieter now. “Are you going to keep me here forever?”

Artem doesn’t answer immediately. He looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “That’s not my call,” he finally says. “You know that.”

“Then whose call is it?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. “Maxim’s?”

Artem nods, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door. “Just eat, Sophia. Trust me, you’ll need your strength.”

I shake my head, my voice wavering with anger and fear. “I don’t want your food.”

He pauses at the door, turning back to face me. “Suit yourself. Starving yourself isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why are you doing this?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “ I mean, why are you helping him?”

Artem raises an eyebrow, seeming almost amused by the question. “I’m not helping Maxim. I’m doing my job.”

“Your job?” I snap. “Your job is kidnapping innocent people and holding them hostage?”

He sighs, his expression softening just slightly. “It’s not personal, Sophia. You’re just… part of the process.”

“Part of the process?” I repeat, incredulous. “I’m a person, not some—some thing you can use.”

Artem doesn’t argue with me. He just watches, letting my words hang in the air between us. For a moment, I think he might actually feel some kind of guilt, but then his face hardens again, and that same businesslike mask slides back into place.

“It’s not about you,” he says quietly. “It’s about your father.”

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. My father. All of this, every terrible thing that’s happening to me, is because of him. Because of his greed, his deals, his willingness to sell me off like I’m a piece of property.

I shake my head, trying to keep the tears at bay. “You don’t know him. You don’t know me.”

Artem tilts his head slightly, considering me. “Maybe not, but I know enough.” He reaches for the door again, his hand on the knob. “Eat, Sophia. No one’s going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway.”

The casual way he says it sends another chill through me, and I press my back against the wall, feeling the coldness seep into my skin. As Artem opens the door to leave, I suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to lash out, to do something that will break the silence, the helplessness that’s swallowing me whole.

“So what’s going to happen to me?” I demand, my voice cracking. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait until Maxim decides to kill me?”

Artem turns back, his expression neutral. “I already told you. It’s not my call.” He pauses, his hand tightening on the doorknob. “If I were you? I’d stop worrying about what happens next and start thinking about now.”

His words hang in the air long after he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I stand there for what feels like an eternity, staring at the untouched food on the table, my thoughts swirling.

I stand there, frozen in place, long after Artem leaves. His words echo in my head: Start thinking about how you’re going to survive this.

Survival. It sounds so simple, so straightforward, but the truth is, I don’t even know where to start. How do you survive when you’re nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game? When every move you make is being watched, every decision controlled by forces far more powerful than you?

My eyes flick to the tray of food. It sits there, untouched, mocking me with its normalcy. As if this is just another day and I’m not trapped, terrified, with a tracking device around my ankle. My stomach twists in knots, but not from hunger. It’s fear—raw, gut-wrenching fear that keeps me from taking a single bite.

Artem’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Starving myself won’t change anything. It won’t make Maxim show mercy, and it won’t help me find a way out of this mess. Slowly, I move toward the table, sitting down and picking up the fork. The food tastes bland, but I force it down anyway, knowing that I need to keep up my strength.

I push the plate away when I’m done, my appetite already gone. My mind races with thoughts of escape, of what’s next, but for now, all I can do is focus on one thing.

Surviving.