Page 68 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
I don’t know who put this here, but there’s the promise of alliance from someone who knows enough to be dangerous.
An enemy of Dimitri’s.
Someone who sees me as leverage, just like the Volkovs did.
The smart thing would be to take this directly to Dimitri. Show him the phone, the note, prove my loyalty, and let him handle the threat.
That’s what a good Bratva wife would do.
I stare at the phone for a long moment, weighing options, calculating risks.
Then I power it on.
There’s one unread message, from a number I don’t recognize.
We know what he did to you. How he forced this marriage. How he’s isolating you from everyone who cares about you. You don’t have to accept this. We can give you a way out, and we can make him pay for what he’s done.
My hands are shaking now, adrenaline and fear and something darker flooding through me.
This is a trap. Has to be a trap. Either from Dimitri, testing my loyalty, or from enemies who want to use me exactly the way the message suggests.
Either way, responding is dangerous.
I type out a response before I can talk myself out of it.
Who is this?
The reply comes within seconds.
Someone who knows what the Bratva really is. What Dimitri Rudenko really is. Someone who wants to see himanswer for his crimes. Are you willing to help? Or are you content being his captive?
Captive.
The word echoes everything I’ve been feeling since that night he saved me from the Volkovs. Gratitude and resentment, desire and fury, all tangled together into something I can’t separate.
I’m married to a monster who thinks ownership is the same as protection.
Who just told me I don’t get friends, don’t get autonomy, don’t get anything except what he permits.
Who looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters while simultaneously treating me like property he’s acquired.
I should delete these messages. Destroy the phone. Forget this ever happened.
Instead, I type:What do you want from me?
The response is immediate.
Information and access. Proof of his illegal operations that can stand up in court. Things only someone inside could provide. In exchange, we give you protection. A way out. Freedom.
The word tastes like a lie even as I read it.
There’s no freedom from Dimitri Rudenko. The Volkovs proved that—I wasn’t even married to him yet, and their attempt to take me ended with bodies on the pavement and me more trapped than ever.
Still.
Information doesn’t require commitment. Gathering proof doesn’t mean I have to use it.
Having options—real options, beyond the ones Dimitri deigns to give me—that feels like power I desperately need.
