Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

38. Katya

38

KATYA

A raging headache makes thinking impossible. My eyelids feel glued shut, and even the smallest twitch sends sharp jabs of pain through my skull. I drag in a shallow breath through my cracked lips, my throat burning, and try to shift, but my limbs won’t obey. Something sharp digs into my wrists and ankles.

“Wake up,” a voice snaps, urgent and sharp. “Now.”

A woman’s voice. Low and commanding. Is she talking to me?

Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, the sharp sting of a slap yanks me out of my fog. My cheek burns, and the flood of reality slams into me like a tidal wave.

Shit. This isn’t the hospital.

I taste blood on my tongue and groan, my mind scrambling to piece together the last thing I remember. Then it hits me—I was snatched.

Again.

Someone grabbed me in the hallway. My pulse spikes, and my eyes flutter open, trying to focus.

A striking woman stands in front of me, arms crossed over her chest, exuding venom. Even through the haze clouding my brain, I recognize her—Galina Olenko. I’ve seen her face before, plastered across social media, smug and posing like she owns the world. But the sultry pout she flashes online is long gone, replaced with something cruel.

The room spins when I try to lift my head, forcing me to slump back against the chair. My wrists are tied behind me, my ankles bound to the chair legs. My body is leaden, every muscle bruised and weak. They gave me something, which is still in my system.

“Is all this really necessary?” I rasp, the words scraping out of my dry throat.

Galina’s response is a chuckle—low, sinister, and as cold as ice. It slithers over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her smile is venomous, her eyes glittering with malice.

“Some things are necessary,” she says, dragging out the words like a serpent coiling to strike.

My brother always warned me about snakes. One bite, and you’re done.

I clench my jaw, ignoring the throb in my head, and lift my chin to meet her gaze. I won’t let her see me break. Even tied up, drugged, and cornered, I refuse to give her that satisfaction.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart pounds erratically in my chest.

“There are literally dozens of reasons,” she replies smoothly, her words dripping with disdain.

My fingers twitch behind me, straining against the bindings. Panic starts to creep in, tightening my chest. My mind races for an escape plan, but I can’t think past the rising tide of fear.

“My daughter?” My voice cracks despite my best effort to keep it strong. “Where is she?”

Galina waves a hand dismissively, like I’ve asked her to take out the trash. “The kid’s fine. No one’s touched her.” She tilts her head with a mocking smile. “I’m not a monster, you know.”

Relief rushes through me so fast my head spins. Sofiya’s safe. For now. But how long can I trust her word?

“I wish I could say the same for you,” Galina adds, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

The fear battling inside me sharpens into anger, hot and burning in my chest. “Why me?” I force out.

“Because he loves you.” Her words are a hiss, venomous and bitter. “Because I’m trying to save him from my family. They’ll only let him live if he marries me.”

Igor.

The name crashes into my brain like a lightning strike. Of course, this is about him. My jaw tightens, anger sparking hotter as she continues.

“He chose you over me,” she snaps, her expression full of rage. “He could’ve just agreed to be with me. All he had to do was keep dating me, marry me, and none of this would be happening! But no. He chose you. So now I have no other choice.”

Her words sting, each one slicing deeper. “You’re an insane bitch,” I spit, my glare locked on her.

Galina’s lips curl into a snarl. “Your brother killed my brother. It’s only fair I kill his sister, don’t you think?”

My stomach drops, a chill creeping up my spine.

“And don’t worry,” she continues, as smooth as silk. “I haven’t decided yet whose life will pay for my cousin’s. Maybe Vasiliy. He was close enough to Fedot to make it fair and square, don’t you think?”

I flinch despite myself, the weight of her words sinking in. She’s judging lives like they’re pawns in a game, debating whose death would be the most satisfying revenge.

Before I can respond, a noise erupts outside the room—loud and sudden, like someone shouting orders. Galina’s head snaps toward the door, her expression tightening.

“Stay here,” she snarls, storming out of the room. The door slams behind her, the echo rattling through my chest.

I let out a shaky breath, my head swimming as I scan the room for something that might help me. The cold metal chair digs into my back. Across the room, a table is littered with tools. Sharp ones. Shiny ones. My stomach churns. Oh God. Are they planning to use those on me?

Panic claws at my throat, and tears well up in my eyes despite my best efforts to shove them back. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t see a way out. My chest heaves with silent sobs, my head sinking forward as despair threatens to overwhelm me.

And then I hear them. Footsteps coming quickly my way.

The door slams open, and Galina storms back in, her face twisted with fury. Her dark eyes are wild, her jaw clenched tight.

“Maksim is dead!” she screams, her voice raw with rage. “My brother is dead! And you’re fucking next!”

Her fist slams into my side, hard and fast, knocking the breath out of me. I cry out, my ribs screaming in protest. Another punch follows, and another, until I’m gasping for air, my body curling in on itself instinctively.

“Please,” I croak, barely able to form the word.

She doesn’t stop. Her hand grips my throat, squeezing just enough to make me struggle for air. Then she lets go, reaching down to grab something from a bag.

A gun.

She raises it, pointing the barrel directly at the top of my head. My vision tunnels, and the fight drains out of me. Fear gives way to a chilling numbness.

This is it.

Her finger tightens on the trigger.

Click.

The sound reverberates off the bare walls, the mockery of it echoing in my ears. My breath comes in ragged, uneven gulps, my chest rising and falling as I try to process what’s happening.

A cold laugh rips through the silence, dragging me back to reality. Galina’s venomous, triumphant cackle slithers through the air like a poison, suffocating the last shred of my composure.

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?” she snarls, her lip curling in disdain.

I don’t respond. My throat is tight, and my jaw aches too much to form words. Instead, I just watch her, my pulse pounding in my ears, louder than her words.

She takes a step closer, her hands trembling as she points an accusatory finger at me. “I’ll keep you alive for weeks—months, even. You’ll suffer slowly. Intensely. I’m here to collect on your family’s debt.”

My stomach clenches, and I have to swallow hard to keep the bile from rising in my throat. Her words drip with malice, but there’s something else too. She’s unraveling. That mask of control she wore when she first walked in—it’s slipping.

Her arms twitch, but then she lowers them, her lips pressing into a thin, angry line. She glares down at me like she’s searching for something—fear, maybe? Despair?

I won’t give her the satisfaction.

The lump in my throat feels like it might choke me, but I swallow it down. I lock my gaze on hers, letting every ounce of hatred, defiance, and raw courage I can muster shine through. But instead of striking me again, she turns on her heel with a hateful snarl and storms out of the room. The door slams behind her, and the sound of the lock clicking into place sends another wave of dread washing over me.

I’m alone again.

A sob pushes its way up, unstoppable, as my head falls back against the chair. The nausea swirls in my stomach, twisting and churning, and my ribs scream with every shallow breath I take. I don’t know if they’re cracked or just bruised, but the pain is unrelenting, sharp and hot like needles stabbing with every movement.

I don’t know how much time passes. Minutes? Hours? There are no windows here, no clocks, no way to mark the moments as they drag endlessly forward. The fluorescent light overhead hums, casting harsh shadows on the bare walls.

My hands burn where the ropes bite into my skin, and my legs feel like lead weights, useless and numb. If I could just stand, if I could move, maybe I’d have a chance. But my body isn’t cooperating. It’s as if the fight has drained out of me, leaving behind nothing but pain and exhaustion.

The despair settles over me like a heavy blanket, suffocating and inescapable. Galina’s voice echoes in my mind, her words like daggers stabbing at my hope.