Page 69 of Bratva Menace

My head snapped to her. “Say what?”

“You’ll be glad to know my plan worked perfectly. There was no blame placed on you or your family. It all went to Anya and the Tarasovs, like I knew it would.”

“Hang on a second.” I turned in my seat to face her. My body itched to move closer, to close the distance between us and finally touch her—the woman who’d caught my attention so long ago and never given it back. “How could you possibly know that? Are you stalking my father too?” That thought didn’t sit well with me.

Not. At. All.

“Once I found out you were coming here to marry, I made it a point to infiltrate Sergei’s home as one of his maids. I went there last night after our little…tiff. I thought it might reassure you to know there will be no retribution against your sister for what happened.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “You know that for sure?”

“I do.” She nodded. “Your grandfather had a meeting with Anya’s father and yours. The blame is placed solely on them.” Lyla looked at me expectantly. When I said nothing, she tilted her head. “This is where you say, ‘thank you’.”

“You want me to thank you for kidnapping me?” She really was crazy.

“I want you to thank me for risking my life to obtain information to put you at ease.”

But it hadn’t. Not really. Like I’d said before, I couldn’t take her word for it. I needed to hear it with my own ears.

“Yeah…that ain’t gonna happen.” A beat of silence passed. “My father…Is he okay?” He would probably be losing his shit.

“Papa D is losing his shit a little bit.” It was like she could read my goddamn mind. “You’re lucky, you know. He loves you a lot.”

Given what he did to her own father, I was quite surprised Lyla was speaking so highly of him. Shouldn’t she hate him for what he did?

I certainly hated her father for what he did to my mother, and I always would. If I could, I would resurrect that fucker just so I could be the one to kill him.

Despite what happened the night before, I didn’t blame her for what her father did. That would just be completely irrational. Don’t get me wrong, when I found out who she was, it had been a shock, to say the least. But Lyla had only been a child when it all happened, like me. She wasn’t responsible.

“Papa D?” I questioned, a trickle of humor skating through me.

She shrugged absently. “It’s what I call him. I think it suits him, don’t you?”

Yeah. It kinda did.

The rest of the car ride went by quickly and without further conversation. To be honest, I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. To try to figure out what the fuck I was going to do to get out of that situation and back to my family.

I counted the minutes, taking note of every turn we took. The distance between each one. How long we stayed on a straight path. The landmarks. If I wasn’t able to get away during that trip, I could hopefully make a run for it from the house and at least have some idea of where I was going. So I wasn’t running blind.

Lyla hummed to herself—a soft, melodically tune that I found to be quite calming and soothing. Instantly put me at ease. I studied her discreetly from the corner of my eye. She was truly a marvel to look at. Long, toned body, both slender and curved at the same time. There was definitely something there—some feeling growing in my chest. A connection that I was trying desperately to ignore.

We arrived at a small town. Very laid-back. Snow littered the ground. Dusted the rooftops like a sprinkling of icing. Rows of rustic-style buildings lined both sides of the snow-paved road. There were a few pedestrians walking up and down the footpaths, clad head to toe in winter gear.

The car pulled over to the left and stopped in front of an old sign that read Tsar Café. Cedric turned off the engine and got out. I reached for the door handle, but Lyla spoke, making me pause.

“Before we go, you’ll have to put this on.” She pulled something out of a sleek black purse. In her hands was a collar—thick, made of beautiful, dark, padded leather.

My brow arched high. It reminded me of something from the kink world. Between a dom and their submissive. I’d never worn one before, but the idea had always intrigued me.

Excitement flashed in her eyes. “It’s a little different from normal submissive collars,” she said, as if reading my mind. “See these.” Lyla twisted it so I could see the inside. Spread evenly throughout the leather were tiny spikes. She pulled out a remote next and clicked a button. The spikes retracted, disappearing completely into the leather. What in the ever-loving fuck? “Each individual spike is filled with a small dose of a sedative. On their own, it won’t be enough to knock you out, but together, they’ll have you flat on your ass in three seconds. You’ll wear this, and if you try to escape, I’ll activate the spikes, which will render you unconscious. You’ll be taken back to the house, and that will be the last time you will ever be permitted to leave. Ever.”

Maybe I can try to wrestle the remote from her? Without it, she couldn’t activate the spikes.

Her eyes narrowed. She pulled out another collar, almost identical to the other, except not as thick. “Just in case you get any bright ideas and try to steal the remote from me, your collar is synced to mine. If you get too far from it—any more than ten feet—the spikes will automatically activate, and the same thing will happen.”

How the fuck is she doing that?! It was seriously like she could read my fucking mind. As if she could anticipate my thoughts and what I would do before I even knew myself.

I’d never had someone so attuned to me and my thoughts before. It was…freaky. And yet, a part of me—a very, very, very small part of me—liked it. Like having someone who knew me so well, since it felt like most the people in my life barely knew me at all.