Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

EMERY

Adrik finds me sitting in the hallway outside of my bedroom door.

“Isabella is still sleeping,” I tell him. “I couldn’t—”

“We’re leaving,” he interrupts. It isn’t a question.

“I thought this was the safehouse.”

“It’s the Bratva safehouse,” he explains impatiently. “Everyone in the Bratva knows about it.”

“And that’s a bad thing…?”

“If my brother is who you say he is, then yes.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a migraine. “I need to get you and Isabella somewhere he can’t reach. Until I put my plan in place.”

“It’s only been an hour since Yasha was here. How do you already have a plan?” I look down at myself, still wearing the leggings and tank top I was prepared to run away in. “I haven’t even moved a muscle since… since we…”

I let the words fall away. There’s no reason to bring up the kiss right now. Not when I have no idea what it meant, if it was real, if it was part of a plan I still haven’t even begun to glimpse.

Adrik is playing the part right—being serious and protective, acting concerned for my safety and Isabella’s—but I can’t trust any of it.

I can’t trust anyone, actually. This could all be a ruse to take Isabella from me. A trick to make sure I’m compliant when they steal me away and make me disappear.

“I always have a plan.”

I stare up at him. He’s an imposing figure towering tall. The dim light in the hallway is a backlight, draping his shadow over me.

I stand up. My legs are tingly, pins and needles working through my calves and my feet from sitting on the floor for so long. Even numb, I can still feel where Yasha dug his knees into my thighs. Where he wrapped his hands around my wrists.

I feel like I need a shower.

“Well, I don’t have a plan,” I mumble. “I haven’t had a plan since the minute I walked into your mansion to get Isabella back.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It seems like your plan has been to yell and fight and annoy me until you get your way.”

I glare at him. “Only because your plan is always to put me in timeout until I do whatever you say.”

“It gets results.”

I lift my hand to shove him away, but he just snares my wrist and draws me close. It happens in an instant. Yet another reminder of how much stronger and faster Adrik is than me. How helpless I am before him.

As if I needed another reminder.

His grip around my arm softens. He drags his finger over the inside of my wrist and leans in. His breath moves my hair. “Yasha got to you when you were in a safehouse in the room next to me. How much easier do you think it will be for him if you leave?”

My heart was already pounding from the nearness of him, but it’s in my throat now. “Why are you—”

“You don’t want to be locked up anymore?” he asks, his dark brows lifting. “Fine. Then learn to listen. I have a plan to keep you safe and it will be a whole hell of a lot easier if I don’t have to drag you through it kicking and screaming.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” I blurt.

Adrik just stares down at me. His finger is still whispering across the inside of my wrist, making it hard to focus. But I manage to meet his eyes. To hold my ground.

It’s a moral victory, if nothing else.

“Yasha is your brother. You’ve made it absurdly clear how far you’ll go to protect him.” A shadow passes over his eyes, but I keep going. “How do I know you aren’t working with him? How do I know I can trust you?”

Adrik’s eyes are wide and blue, but he looks tired. The weight of this world must weigh heavily on him. Being in charge, being the person always calling the shots… I have a small idea what that’s like, as a single mother.

But I only have one person depending on me. Even that is more than enough.

A whole Bratva? That’s unfathomable.

Adrik lets go of my hand. It falls against my side and he steps back. “You can’t.”

“I… I can’t?” I blink.

“If you were expecting another answer, you shouldn’t have. That’s all I’ve got for you. My track record speaks for itself. Don’t like that? Tough shit, Emery.”

“Your track record? You locked me in a dungeon!”

“After you ran away without a fucking word,” he snarls.

“I couldn’t tell you Yasha was my rapist. I didn’t know if I could trust you. Chicken and the egg, Adrik”

At that, he laughs. It’s a cruel sound. “That is the problem. You don’t trust me, so you don’t listen, and then you get hurt. It’s a pattern.”

“That is not what—”

“Go pack up. We’re leaving in an hour,” he says, cutting me off. “I have a cabin no one knows about. You’ll be safe there. Whether you like it or not.”

He turns and walks down the hallway, so I call after him. “A remote cabin in the woods so you can murder me and no one will hear my screams?”

I’m half-joking, but even the suggestion sends a shiver down my spine.

Maybe I should tell him I’m pregnant. If killing me is on his radar, being pregnant with his child has to buy me at least nine months.

“No one would hear your screams here, either.” Adrik looks back over his shoulder. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t care. I’m the boss. What I say goes. It amazes me that you still haven’t figured that out.”

With that, he disappears around the corner.

I place a hand on my stomach. “Was that supposed to be comforting?” I mutter to myself.

* * *

“Is this like a vacation?” Isabella chirps from the backseat. “Are we going to the ocean again?”

I turn around to check on her for the thousandth time since we left a few hours ago. All of the wheelchair-accessible cars had GPS and computer systems that Adrik didn’t trust, so Isabella is propped up in the backseat of a car that’s older than I am with pillows and wadded-up blankets.

It’s not exactly ergonomic. Nor is it particularly safe.

“Are you okay back there?” I ask.

“Fine, Mama,” she huffs. “Where are we going? Is this like… like the honey… what was it called?”

“The honeymoon,” Adrik suggests.