Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Chapter Twenty-Two - Sophia

I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. I don’t even realize how fast I’m driving until I see the trees blur past me on either side. The road stretches ahead, but all I can think about is that moment—seeing Hailey draped all over him, her hand on his tie, that stupid grin on her face.

Why does it hurt so much?

It’s not like I’m in love with him. I can’t be in love with him. Our marriage was never about that—it was about survival. Power. Yet, the sight of him with her had twisted something deep inside me, a raw, aching pain that I can’t ignore.

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away angrily. I don’t want to cry over this. Over him. But the memories of our moments together creep into my mind—the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching, the way his touch made my body come alive in ways I’d never felt before. Did all of that mean nothing to him?

I bite my lip, trying to keep the sob threatening to break free from escaping. Hailey Lawrence. Of course, it had to be her. She’s a famous model, someone I’ve seen on TV, in magazines—tall, beautiful, and effortlessly glamorous. She’s everything I’m not, and maybe that’s what stings the most.

Maybe Maxim does find her prettier than me. Maybe she’s the kind of woman he really wants.

The jealousy burns in my chest, and I hate myself for it. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to care about who he spends his time with or who he desires. Yet the thought of him with Hailey, of her touching him the way I have—it sends a fresh wave of hurt crashing through me.

I wipe my eyes quickly, trying to focus on the road, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m spiraling, that nothing makes sense anymore. I should be strong. I’ve survived so much already. I shouldn’t let this affect me.

As I speed down the road, something catches my eye—a woman standing by her car on the side of the highway, waving for help. Her car looks like it’s broken down, and for a moment, I hesitate. Memories of the last time my car broke down flood back, the fear and helplessness I felt when Artem showed up and everything went dark.

Still, I can’t just leave her there.

I pull over and step out of the car, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling in my head. The woman looks relieved as I approach, her hands resting on her hips.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask, my voice a little shaky, still rattled from my own thoughts.

The woman shakes her head. “No, not a ride—just some help with a tire. It’s flat, and I don’t know how to change it.”

I nod, stepping closer to take a look at the tires. I know absolutely nothing about changing a flat, but I figure we can figure it out together. Anything to take my mind off the mess I left back at Maxim’s office.

“Let’s see what we can do,” I say, forcing a smile as I crouch down beside the car. My hands tremble slightly, but I focus on the task at hand, trying to block out the painful thoughts clouding my mind.

As we work, the woman chats away. She’s kind, with an easygoing smile, and chatting with her keeps me grounded. We talk about the simplest things—where she’s from, what she’s doing out here—and for a brief moment, I almost forget about everything else.

Almost.

“So… you okay?” she asks after a pause, her voice gentle as she watches me fumble with the tire iron.

I glance up, startled. “Yeah. Why?”

“You just seem a little… off,” she says, her brow furrowed with concern. “Like something’s bothering you.”

I laugh softly, but it’s a hollow sound. “I guess you could say that.”

She doesn’t push, but there’s a knowing look in her eyes. “Well, whatever it is, I hope it gets better. If you need someone to talk to… sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

I nod, grateful for the offer, even though I know I won’t take her up on it. My problems are far too complicated for a casual conversation with a stranger.

We both crouch beside the car, fumbling with the tools as we try to figure out how to get the spare tire on. It’s only as I’m finishing up, dusting off my hands, that she decides to introduce herself properly.

“By the way,” the woman says after a while, wiping her hands on her jeans, “I’m Chiara.”

“Chiara,” I repeat, offering her a small smile. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” she replies, a proud glint in her eye. “It means bright in Italian.”

Italian. The word catches me off guard, and I freeze for a moment, my hands halting over the tire. My stomach twists uncomfortably. Italian? What are the odds?

“My full name is Chiara Vinci,” she adds casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. My heart stutters in my chest.

Vinci.

As in Fernando Vinci. My pulse quickens, and before I can even process the full meaning of her words, I feel her shift beside me. The air around us changes, the easygoing warmth replaced by something colder, something dangerous. I look up at her, but it’s too late. She’s already moving.

Before I can react, Chiara grabs my wrists in a tight grip and yanks me back. I stumble, caught off guard, but I instinctively try to fight her off, struggling against her hold.

“What are you doing?!” I shout, panic rising in my chest as I twist and turn in her grasp.

She’s strong—too strong—and my heart pounds as I realize I’m in serious trouble. I push against her, trying to free myself, but Chiara moves with precision, her hands moving quickly as she grabs something from her pocket. The next thing I know, my hands are bound tightly with rough rope.

“Let me go!” I scream, thrashing wildly, but she’s already in control. Her movements are calm, calculated, like she’s done this before. I kick at her, but she dodges effortlessly, her expression hardening as she finishes tying me up.

“Stop struggling,” she says, her voice cool and measured, as if this were nothing more than an everyday inconvenience. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Who the hell are you?” I gasp, my chest heaving as I finally stop fighting, realizing I’m no match for her strength or skill.

Chiara stands over me, brushing her hands off like she hasn’t just tied me up on the side of the road. Her calm demeanor only makes me feel more trapped, more powerless. “I told you already,” she says, her voice smooth and steady. “I’m Chiara Vinci. Fernando Vinci’s daughter.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Fernando Vinci—the man Maxim had been talking about, the one responsible for my father’s death. My blood runs cold as the pieces fall into place.

She smirks, clearly enjoying the shock on my face. “Did you really think I was just some random woman with car trouble?”

I grit my teeth, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want with me?”

Chiara crouches down in front of me, her eyes gleaming with a cruel sort of satisfaction. “You’re a Preston,” she says simply. “That makes you useful. You’re leverage.”

My mind races as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Leverage? Against who? Maxim? The Russians? A wave of dread washes over me as I realize just how deep in danger I really am.

“I should’ve known something was off,” I mutter, glaring at her. “You didn’t need help with your car, did you?”

Chiara’s smile widens. “Well, it is true that my tire was flat, but only to make the story convincing. I just needed to lure you out here, away from your husband .” Her voice drips with disdain at the word.

I pull at the ropes around my wrists, but they don’t budge. “If you think Maxim is just going to let you take me—”

Chiara interrupts me with a soft laugh. “Oh, I know who Maxim is. I know exactly what kind of man he is. And trust me, he’s not in control of this situation anymore.” She stands up, looking down at me with a sense of finality.

I shiver, and my mind reels, searching for any way out of this nightmare. I glance around, looking for something—anything—that could help me. But we’re on a desolate stretch of road, no one in sight, no way to call for help.

“Why are you doing this?” I demand, trying to buy myself some time. “What do you want?”

Chiara tilts her head, considering the question for a moment before answering. “Revenge, of course. Your husband and his Bratva think they can walk all over the Vinci family, but they’re wrong. My father has plans—big plans. You, dear, are going to help us set them in motion.”

I clench my jaw, refusing to let the fear show on my face. “Maxim will come for me. You’re making a mistake.”

Chiara leans in closer, her smile sharp. “Let him come. We’ll be ready.”

Before I can respond, she grabs my arm and pulls me toward her car. I stumble, trying to resist, but the ropes around my wrists make it impossible to fight back. Chiara opens the passenger door and shoves me inside, slamming the door behind me. She moves quickly around to the driver’s side, slipping into the seat with a practiced ease.

As she starts the engine, I sit there, my mind racing. I have to find a way out of this. I can’t let her take me—who knows what Fernando has planned for me?

Chiara’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and I catch her gaze. “You might as well relax,” she says casually. “There’s no point in struggling. You’re not going anywhere.”

The car jerks forward, and I’m tossed against the seat belt as Chiara pulls back onto the highway. The ropes dig into my wrists, the tightness only increasing my panic. I think, desperate for a way out, but all I see is the empty stretch of road ahead of us. My heart pounds in my chest, each thud reminding me just how trapped I am.

I can’t let this happen.

Glancing at Chiara, I notice her grip on the steering wheel is loose, her attention focused more on the road than me. She’s confident, too confident. She thinks I’m too scared, too weak to fight back.

She has no idea who she’s dealing with.

As we speed down the road, I shift in my seat, testing the ropes around my wrists. They’re tight, but I have enough movement to make this work. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I only have one shot at this.

When Chiara glances in the rearview mirror, I strike.

With every ounce of strength, I kick my leg out toward her, slamming my foot against the side of her head. She lets out a surprised grunt, the car swerving wildly as she struggles to maintain control. I don’t wait. I lunge toward her, using my bound hands to grab at the wheel, trying to steer the car off the road.

“You bitch!” she screams, swatting at me with one hand while trying to wrestle the car back under control with the other. The tires screech as we skid across the road, the vehicle swerving dangerously close to the guardrail.

I kick at her again, this time connecting with her shoulder. Her hand slips off the steering wheel, and for a moment, I think I’ve got the upper hand. I think I can do this.

Chiara is quicker than I anticipated.

With a snarl, she reaches across and grabs me by the hair, yanking me back into my seat with a brutal force. I scream, the pain radiating through my scalp as she slams me against the passenger door.

“You think you can get away from me?” she hisses, her voice low and furious. “You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with.”

I twist in her grip, trying to free myself, but she’s too strong. The car swerves again as she struggles to keep me pinned down while still driving. My vision blurs from the pain, but I can’t stop now. I have to fight.

Desperation fuels me, and I manage to twist my body just enough to throw my elbow into her ribs. She grunts in pain, her grip loosening for a split second. It’s all I need.

I slam my foot into the dashboard and push off, trying to open the door. If I can just get it open, I can jump out. I don’t care if we’re moving. I’d rather take my chances with the road than stay in this car with her.

I claw at the handle with my bound hands, managing to crack the door open just a little. Cold air rushes in, and I can almost taste freedom. I shove my shoulder against the door, trying to push it open wider, but Chiara’s hand clamps down on my arm like a vise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she growls, yanking me back into the seat. I scream, my voice echoing through the empty car as I kick wildly, trying to break free.

I kick the dashboard again, my heel slamming against the controls, and the car jerks forward violently. For a moment, I think we’re going to crash, but Chiara slams on the brakes, sending us skidding to a stop in the middle of the road.

She throws the car into park and turns to me, her face twisted in fury. “You want to play rough?” she spits, her hand coming down hard on my shoulder, shoving me back against the door. “Fine. Let’s play.”

I push her away with my feet, screaming for help as loud as I can. “Help! Somebody, help me!”

Cars pass by, their lights blurring in the distance. I scream again, louder this time, but no one stops. No one even slows down. I’m in the middle of nowhere, and the only sound that fills the air is the rush of wind and the distant hum of tires on asphalt.

Chiara’s grip tightens on my shoulder, and she leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “No one’s going to save you, Sophia. You can scream all you want, but no one will hear you.”

She’s right. We’re too far out, and the passing cars can’t hear me over the roar of the engine. Panic rises in my throat as I realize just how helpless I am.

I thrash against her, trying to throw her off-balance, but she’s too fast. In one swift motion, she grabs a small syringe from the console and stabs it into my arm. The cold sting of the needle barely registers before the world around me starts to blur.

“No…,” I gasp, my body growing heavy, the fight draining out of me as whatever she injected takes effect. I try to push her away, but my limbs feel like lead, my vision going dark at the edges.

Chiara leans back, satisfied. “That’s better.”

My eyelids grow heavy, and I can feel myself slipping away, my consciousness fading as I slump against the seat. The last thing I see before everything goes black is Chiara’s cold, victorious smile.

Then, nothing.