Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Chapter Twelve - Sophia

The moment I step out of the room, I realize the door wasn’t even locked. For a second, I pause, my heart racing.

Did Maxim really think I was too scared to leave on my own?

The thought sends a wave of defiance through me. My fear is real, but I won’t let it paralyze me. Not anymore.

The hallway outside is dimly lit, shrouded in shadows that make the mansion feel like a labyrinth. Each step I take feels heavier, more dangerous. I move quietly, trying not to make a sound as I search for some kind of escape. My footsteps barely echo on the cold floor, but the silence presses down on me, making every creak of the wood beneath my feet sound like a shout.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, but the farther I go, the more the walls seem to close in around me. The darkness makes it hard to see where I’m going, and the mansion feels endless, like it’s swallowing me whole.

Suddenly, I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as I hear something. A faint sound—breathing. I turn around, my heart hammering in my chest. There’s nothing. Just more empty shadows and the cold air brushing against my skin.

Stop imagining things. I tell myself. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I feel like I’m being watched, but no one’s there.

I continue walking, my legs shaky but determined. I won’t let this place drive me mad. I need to keep moving. I need to find a way out.

Finally, after what feels like forever, I spot something in the distance—the main door. A surge of hope rushes through me as I hurry toward it. My fingers brush the handle, my heart pounding with anticipation.

Just as I pull the door open, a strong hand slams it shut with a force that makes me jump. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. The warmth of someone standing right behind me sends a cold chill through me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can feel his breath at the back of my neck.

“Turn around,” Maxim orders, his voice low and commanding.

My throat tightens. Slowly, I turn, my eyes meeting his as the faint light from outside illuminates his face. His eyes lock on to mine, intense and unforgiving. For a moment, we just stand there, the space between us filled with tension, his broad frame towering over me.

I open my mouth, trying to think of an excuse, anything to explain why I’m standing here at the main door, clearly trying to escape.

“I… I was looking for the bathroom,” I stammer, my voice weak, my nerves frayed.

Maxim’s lips twitch slightly, almost amused. He doesn’t buy it for a second. “You have an en suite,” he says coolly. “Besides, you’re not meant to leave your room.”

I swallow hard, scrambling to think of a response. “It didn’t have a shower,” I lie, my voice faltering. “I wanted to take a shower.”

His gaze sharpens, and I know he’s not fooled. He takes a step closer, his presence suffocating, his body heat radiating against me. I feel trapped, his eyes pinning me down as if he’s savoring my desperation. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me struggle with my flimsy excuse. There’s a flicker of amusement in his expression, like he’s entertained by my pathetic attempt at lying.

“You needed a shower, huh?” he asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’ve been wandering around the mansion, in the dark, just looking for a bathroom with a shower?”

I bite my lip, my pulse racing. “Yes,” I say, though the word feels weak, hollow.

Maxim leans in closer, his face inches from mine. I can feel his breath against my skin, and my heart thuds in my chest, faster and faster. He’s so close now, the tension between us suffocating. His presence is overwhelming, a constant reminder of the power he holds over me.

“You’re lying,” he whispers, his tone soft but menacing. “You think I don’t know what you were trying to do?”

I shake my head quickly, but I can’t find my voice. My body feels frozen, pinned beneath his gaze, unable to move or even think straight. I’m caught, and we both know it.

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “What were you going to do if you got out, Sophia?” he asks, his voice dark, almost playful. “Run? Disappear? You know I’d find you.”

I press my lips together, refusing to answer. Fear twists in my gut, but there’s something else, something darker beneath the fear. His touch lingers on my skin, and I hate that I can feel it, that it’s affecting me in ways I don’t want to admit.

Maxim steps back slightly, though his eyes never leave mine. “I’ll tell you something,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “The next time you think about running, remember this—there’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you. You’re not going anywhere, Sophia. Not unless I let you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. He’s right, and the worst part is, I know it. There’s no escape. Not from him.

Maxim’s eyes remain locked on me, dark and unreadable, as I stand frozen in place. His proximity feels overwhelming, suffocating, as though the very air around us thickens with tension. I try to take a breath, but my chest is tight, and I can feel my pulse racing in my throat. He steps closer, his presence dominating, and without a word, his hand reaches up and lifts my chin with rough, calloused fingers, forcing me to look directly at him.

My breath hitches, the intensity of his gaze making my heart pound even harder. His eyes scan my face, searching, reading me in a way that makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable. It’s as if he’s stripping me down to my very core, leaving me with nowhere to hide.

“Are you scared?” he asks softly, his voice a low growl, his thumb brushing lightly against my jaw. The roughness of his touch contrasts with the quiet control in his tone, and my skin tingles under his fingertips. He’s too close, too commanding, but I can’t pull away.

I don’t answer, too paralyzed by the strange mix of fear and something else I can’t quite place. My pulse thrums in my ears as I struggle to maintain control, but his presence makes it impossible. There’s something about him—something dangerous and magnetic—that has me frozen in place, even though every instinct screams at me to move.

He leans down, his breath warm against my skin, his hand shifting from my chin to the side of my neck. His grip tightens, just slightly, enough to send a shiver down my spine. I should be terrified, and I am, but there’s something else simmering beneath the fear. Something I don’t want to acknowledge. The spark between us ignites in the silence, unspoken, heavy.

His thumb presses into the soft skin of my throat, and I can’t look away. His eyes bore into mine, and for a long, intense moment, neither of us speaks. The world around us fades, and all I can focus on is the way his hand feels against my skin, the way his eyes hold me captive. My breath catches, and I wonder—what is he going to do next?

Just when I expect him to close the distance between us, to take whatever this is further, Maxim pulls away. The sudden absence of his touch leaves a cold emptiness behind, and I blink, startled by the abruptness of it.

“Follow me,” he orders, his voice hardening again as he steps back. The intensity between us vanishes in an instant, replaced by the same cold command that he always carries.

My throat tightens with disappointment, confusion swirling inside me as I realize I’m not escaping anything. He’s tracking my every move, and even if I tried to run, there’s no point. He’ll always be there, just like he was tonight.

I follow him down the hallway, my footsteps slow and reluctant. He leads me to another part of the mansion, the layout unfamiliar to me. The walls here are lighter, more polished, and the scent of fresh air wafts through the open windows. This place is better, warmer, less suffocating. He stops in front of a door and pushes it open, stepping aside to let me enter.

“This is where you’ll stay now,” Maxim says, his tone clipped but calm. I glance inside the room, my eyes widening slightly. It’s a far cry from the cold, dark room I was in before. The bed is larger, the furniture elegant. There’s even an attached bathroom with a shower and a large bathtub.

I look at him suspiciously, trying to figure out why he’s doing this. Why the change of heart? I can see it in his face, the way his jaw is clenched, his eyes flickering with something like restraint. He’s forcing himself to be somewhat kind, as if it’s part of some strategy I don’t understand.

I hesitate for a moment, my thoughts racing. Then, the question escapes my lips before I can stop myself. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Maxim’s expression remains unreadable, his gaze sharp as he watches me. For a long moment, he says nothing, and the silence hangs heavy between us. I feel my heart thudding in my chest, every beat echoing in my ears as I wait for his answer.

I can’t breathe properly, can’t think. All I can do is watch him, waiting for some kind of response. Anything.

He doesn’t say a word.

The fear coils tighter inside me, twisting my stomach into knots. He is going to kill me. That’s what this is. He’s just deciding when. The realization sends a wave of terror through me, and I force myself to speak, my voice trembling.

“Maxim… please… just tell me what’s going to happen,” I manage to say, my throat dry. My words come out softer than I intend, almost pleading. I hate how weak I sound, but I can’t help it. The fear is too real, too overwhelming.

His gaze remains steady, piercing through me, but still, he says nothing. His face is a mask of indifference, as if my words don’t even reach him. It’s like I’m talking to a wall, and the more I try, the more hopeless it feels.

I swallow hard, my hands trembling at my sides. “You… you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to kill me. I’ll do whatever you want, just—”

Before I can finish, he turns away, heading toward the door without so much as a glance back. My heart sinks. I want to call out to him, beg him to stay, but the words catch in my throat. He walks out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

I wait, staring at the door, expecting to hear the familiar sound of the lock turning. It doesn’t come. The silence on the other side of the door is absolute.

I stand there for a moment, frozen in place. Why not lock it? The question hangs in my mind, gnawing at my nerves. I inch toward the door, my fingers brushing the handle. Slowly, I pull it open, just a crack, enough to see the empty hallway beyond.

He didn’t lock me in. I’m not trapped in this room.

Then it hits me, a cold wave of realization that makes my stomach churn. He doesn’t need to lock the door anymore. This entire mansion is my prison. I can wander wherever I want, but it won’t make a difference. Maxim will always find me. He’s tracking my every move. Every step I take, every decision I make—it’s all under his control.

I pull the door shut and slump down onto the bed, my hands shaking as I bury my face in them. The fear gnaws at me, relentless, as the truth sinks deeper. There’s no point in running. No point in trying to escape.

I’m not just a prisoner in this room. I’m a prisoner in his world.

There’s no way out.