Page 70 of Bratva Stalker Kidnaps His Bride

“They forced it from this side.”

“They were leaving fast.”

He rises again.

“We're almost there.”

Hope is a dangerous thing. One moment it fits neatly inside your chest, the next it crowds every rational thought until breathing itself feels different.

My parents.

They are somewhere beyond these walls, close enough that every step feels heavier than the one before it. I feared never finding them but now, I fear finding them too late.

Another voice crackles across Mikhail's earpiece.

“Primary, report.”

“Northern interior,” he answers quietly.

“Hurry. Additional vehicles have entered the outer perimeter.”

My pulse jumps.

“They're coming back.”

“Trying to, for sure.”

He reaches for my hand without appearing to think about it, his fingers closing around mine for one brief heartbeat before releasing again as another corner approaches.

The gesture lasts barely a second but the silent message reaches me anyway.

We are still here, still moving, still together.

The final corridor stretches before us like the spine of the building, narrower than the others and lined with identical reinforced doors. Every instinct inside me rises at once, recognition arriving before evidence does. The air feels different here, heavier somehow, carrying the stale scent of recycled ventilation and too many years spent hiding things the outside world was never supposed to discover.

“Mikhail…”

“The north rooms.”

My breathing catches.

The end of the corridor waits less than thirty meters away, where one final steel door stands beneath a single overhead light that casts everything around it in a tired yellow glow.

Without needing to discuss it, we break into a run.

My feet carry me down the corridor before Mikhail has finished the entry scan, and his fingers wrap painfully around my bicep, stopping me before a door that turns out to be clear. Then we sprint off, the corridor shortening beneath our feet.

The door at the end is heavier than the others, reinforced. The lock doesn’t give at all no matter how many times I wrangle the knob.

“Stand back,” Mikhail growls, ramming his shoulder into the door. I wince each time he does it, and approximately nine shudders later, the door gives in, swinging inward.

And inside, illuminated by a single overhead fixture that turns everything it touches the color of an old photograph, is what makes my heart twist painfully in my chest, nearly knocking me down to my knees.

Chapter 26 - Mikhail

The door gives under my shoulder after holding up quite a fight.

Beside me, Zara freezes as she takes in what the room reveals.