Page 48 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

Security alarms detonated through the penthouse almost simultaneously, cutting through the quiet we’d just managed to build between us like a blade through paper.

My earpiece crackled to life, Roman’s voice breaking through, urgent and immediate in a way that told me everything I needed to know before he’d finished his first sentence.

“Dmitri. The building’s under attack.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Valentina

“Stay behind me,” he said, his voice commanding and almost desperate. “Whatever you see, whatever you hear, stay behind me and keep moving when I move.”

I didn’t have breath left to answer him properly, so I just gave him a short, shaky nod that I wasn’t even certain he saw in the strobing red light.

The penthouse, which had felt like the closest thing to safety I’d known in over a month, transformed into something unrecognizable in the space of a few seconds. Security alarms flashed red along every wall, throwing the corridor into a strobing, disorienting rhythm that made it hard to track anything clearly. Footsteps echoed from multiple directions at once, some heavy and deliberate, others quick and scrambling, impossible to sort into friend or threat in the chaos.

Dmitri kept me pressed close against his back as he moved, his own weapon drawn, firing back at shapes I could barely make out through the strobing red light and drifting smoke. The violence had a precision to it that unsettled me almost as much as the noise itself. It was all quick, controlled shots aimed with the same deadly efficiency I’d watched him use before.

I struggled to keep pace with him, my legs unsteady beneath me, adrenaline and fear tangling together until I could barely tell which was driving my body forward. Whenever I stumbled, he adjusted instantly, his pace slowing just enough to keep me upright without ever breaking his own forward momentum, his attention split perfectly between the threat ahead and the woman he refused to let fall behind him.

A bullet struck one of the decorative columns lining the corridor, shattering plaster and stone fragments across the floor inches from where I’d been standing a second earlier. Dmitri pulled me hard into a recessed alcove before I’d even registered the impact, his body shielding mine completely, his eyes never once leaving the threat zones even as he made certain I stayed untouched.

I understood that none of this was panic for him. This was procedure. It was simply something he’d trained for so thoroughly that his body simply executed the correct sequence of movements without needing conscious thought to guide it.

We reached a reinforced door deep within the penthouse structure, tucked behind what I’d always assumed was simply a storage closet, and Dmitri keyed in a code faster than my eyes could follow. Heavy mechanical locks disengaged with a low, grinding hum, and he pushed me inside before following, the door sealing behind us with a weight that felt almost absolute.

He crossed to a small panel along the wall, verifying something on the screen with quick, efficient movements. Then he turned to me with sharp, urgent focus.

“Stay in here. Lock the door the second I leave. Don’t open it for anyone, under any circumstances. Until you hear my voice specifically confirming it’s safe.”

“Dmitri—”

“I need you safe, Val. That’s the only thing I can actually control right now.” His voice stayed steady even as he cut in. “Lock it. Now.”

He was already moving before I could respond, the door closing behind him with a heavy, final sound. I stood there for a moment in the suffocating silence, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the internal lock mechanism, some old instinct pulling me toward the door even as I forced myself to obey exactly what he’d told me.

I locked it.

The silence inside that room pressed in around me almost immediately, broken only by distant gunfire and the muffled, chaotic sounds of the attack still unfolding somewhere beyond these walls. I sat down on the small cot along the far wall, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to steady my breathing, focusing on the air moving in and out of my lungs rather than the terror threatening to overwhelm every other sense.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I heard the second lock click.

From the outside.

I froze, every muscle in my body going rigid at once, watching the heavy door begin to swing open even though I hadn’t touched it, despite every assurance Dmitri had given me about its security.

I didn’t know if it was the confident look or the powerful presence that followed his form that made me know he was the man Dmitri had told me about. But I was damn sure it was him.

Adrian Vale.

He looked calm in a way that felt so wrong given the chaos still audible beyond the door—no urgency in his expression at all. He studied me curiously for a long moment, the way one might study an experiment whose results they’d already predicted.

“Get out,” I said, my voice shaking despite every effort to keep it steady. “I don’t know what you want, but you’re not getting it here.”

Vale listened to my demand without interruption, amusement showing on his otherwise composed face, like my attempt at control was entertaining rather than remotely threatening.

“I’m not here for Dmitri’s business,” he said, crossing further into the small room. “Not the casino network. Not the territory Dmitri’s spent his whole life protecting. Not even the whole Golovin empire.”

“Then what are you here for?”