Page 67 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
I wash my hands longer than necessary while I stare at my reflection, telling myself silently that I can have this. That I’m allowed to let myself accept the safety and contentment Ivan has been offering me for some time now.
While it feels almost too dangerous to get my hopes up, something in me wants to anyway.
For once…just once…I want to know what it feels like to truly belong somewhere. To not have to question if I deserve it, or if I have permission to genuinely live.
My head still feels clouded once I step out of the restroom, preparing to head back down the hall and turn into the wing where Ivan and the others are.
Then, I pull in a deep breath to steady myself, feeling more prepared now.
But at the feeling of someone standing nearby, I pause and glance down the other end. The moment recognition floods me, I stop dead.
Blinking, I half believe I’m seeing things until my stomach drops.
Carlo.
Cesare steps in beside him, and before I can say anything, the air leaves my lungs in one solid rush.
At first, I can’t move, and I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. Initially, I want to feel relieved to see my brothers again. I want to think this moment is capable of turning into a good, wholesome one, but I know better than that.
Fear slams into me with full force when everything comes back to me. In flashes, I see the restaurant, Cesare telling me about the marriage alliance, and me running as if my life depended on it, because it did.
I escaped them, and now they’re here, staring me down.
“Mila,” Cesare says, sounding far too calm. “There you are.”
Blood roars in my ears as I take a small step back, putting a placating hand up while glancing over my shoulder down the hall, only to find it empty.
“You can’t be here…there are people—”
“Lower your voice,” Carlo mutters, hand already resting on the gun in his waistband.
The sight almost makes me deflate, and I struggle to form anything worth saying.
“You embarrassed us, Mila,” Carlo continues, expression hard as the two of them draw closer.
“I was going to come back,” I lie, desperate for anything that might stick. “I just needed space. I needed time.”
“Time to get yourself acquainted with the Lukovs,” Cesare mutters.
Feeling cornered like prey now, well aware that this isn’t some kind of happy reunion, I can’t will my heart to slow or my head to catch up. As that fear grips me tight, the same persistent thought lingers in my mind.
I’ve never been this afraid of Ivan. Not even when he made me stay, or when he admitted to watching me.
Even if I was worried about his intentions before, he never hurt me. Never gave me a reason to shrink as much as I am now. I never felt quite this helpless.
“Come quietly, or else we’ll have an even bigger problem,” Carlo says, stepping closer until my back’s against the wall. “You’ve caused enough trouble already.”
Shaking my head, I want to turn and run, but I can’t, knowing they’re armed. I can’t risk it, especially not here. “Please, don’t…we’re in a hospital. You can’t—”
Faster than I can react, Carlo reaches out, grabbing the phone Ivan had given me from my pocket without warning. His opposite hand latches around my wrist, tugging me closer to Cesare. “Don’t say a word.”
While I’m held, Carlo holds the phone up to my face, unlocking the screen before scrolling through the few contacts I have, settling on Ivan.
My eyes widen. “Don’t…”
Carlo throws me a heated glare before pressing his name. “Enough. You’re coming with us.”
I struggle instinctively as panic floods my system, but I can’t wrench myself free from Cesare’s iron grip. Instead, he pulls me toward a service corridor away from the main hallway, putting more space between us and Elena’s hospital room.
