Page 13 of Forced By the Bratva

The car moved farther and farther away from the city, past streetlights, past buildings, until we were traveling along an unwinding path that snaked through towering trees.

I rolled my wrists on my lap, the restraints snug but not painful. It was useless to try and free myself—I’d tried that already. Didn’t work. The ropes were secured perfectly.

“Where are you taking me?” I faced him, my voice low and polite.

He didn’t respond, didn’t even bother looking in my direction.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

Still no answer.

I let out a quiet sigh, overwhelmed with anxiety and uncertainty. “You do realize this is kidnapping, right?”

He adjusted subtly, the fine leather seat creaking beneath him.

“So what? You’re just gonna ignore me—act like you can’t hear a word I’m saying?”

He didn’t say anything.

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself.” I rested my head against the cool glass.

I was scared half to death in that car, unsure of what fate awaited me at this mystery location. But I couldn’t bring myself to show my vulnerability to the man who kidnapped me in the most bizarre way ever.

A million thoughts tugged at my mind as I imagined the different possible outcomes. And all of them ended up with me in a freaking casket.

I looked out the window again, trying to memorize the turns, but here was nothing left to memorize. Just more road, more rain, more trees blurring into a single black wall on either side of the car.

Wherever we were going, we were far from anywhere I knew, far from anyone who might come looking.

I let out a deep sigh.

After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally slowed, tires crunching over gravel.

A gate rose out of the darkness ahead of us. Iron, tall, flanked by stone pillars with cameras mounted on each one, their red lights blinking steadily in the rain.

The gate opened without anyone stepping out to check us. Someone was already watching.

I shifted in my seat, legs stiff from sitting still for so long.

The driveway beyond the gate wasn’t straight. It curved back and forth through the property in long, deliberate bends, trees lining both sides. Tall, old trees, branches heavy enough to blot out what little moonlight the clouds hadn’t already swallowed.

The headlights swept across them with every turn, throwing shifting shadows across the gravel.

A few bends later, the estate came into view, and my stomach dropped at the sight of it.

It wasn’t a house. No. It was something closer to a fortress. A mansion.

The building stretched wide and tall against the night sky, dark stone and dark windows. A fountain sat directly in front of the main doors, water still running despite the rain.

Statues lined the path leading up to the entrance, evenly spaced, expressions carved into something between watchful and cruel.

A flash of lightning revealed a pair of gargoyles crouched at the base of the front steps, one on each side.

Honestly, it felt like we’d just driven into Dracula’s estate because the place looked like something straight out of a Hollywood horror movie.

Men in black jackets stood near the entrance, and further out along the tree line, more of them moved slowly through the rain.

Guards. Cameras. A perimeter I couldn’t begin to guess the size of.