Forced Bratva Kidnapped Virgin (Tarasov Bratva #21)

Chapter 1 — Kiera

My golden-brown hair was piled into a messy bun, a signature look that stuck no matter how I styled it. I was never the type of girl who really gave a shit about her appearance. And I should. At least that’s what everyone kept telling me.

Oh, you’re a girl.

You have to look the part.

Blah, blah, blah.

As a lawyer, I was supposed to look like the law: tailored suits, pencil skirts, and a pair of heels that clicked with purpose when I moved. Every detail of my appearance was supposed to be intentional enough to command respect without seeking attention.

But that wasn’t my style.

I dressed for comfort. Jeans. Boots. Leather jackets. Nothing sophisticated or fancy, just something real that didn’t trap me in a version of myself I barely recognized.

I loved the law and believed in justice. Even so, most of the time I didn’t trust the system to deliver it. But the system, however rigged, was my only and best shot at making sure justice prevailed.

My boots echoed across the worn-out floor as I made my way to the intake room. There, a trafficking victim was waiting for me. According to my colleague, Jake, the girl had specifically asked for me.

“Name’s July. July Morales,” he said, walking beside me, dressed in a nice suit and wearing a decent cologne. Cheap, but decent. “Twenty-two.” He handed me her file.

I accepted it mid-stride, fingers flipping through the pages. According to the file, this July girl was listed as relocated. Yet she had no fixed address and no follow-up service after relocation.

“Who handled her case?” I asked.

“State taskforce,” he answered.

We rounded a corner.

Phones rang. A copier jammed.

Someone yelled at the old vending machine after it malfunctioned yet again. It was Suzy. “Oh, c’mon!”

She wasn’t exactly known for her patience.

“Try the one downstairs,” Jake said to her as we walked past.

“Already did that—same thing!” She kicked the machine and walked away, cursing under her breath.

He chucked lightly.

Around here, there was no peace and quiet. Only chaos, the work-related kind. It was loud and lousy. But I’d already gotten used to the fast-paced environment. I thrived in it.

As we neared the intake room, he slowed down and held my hand. “Hey, uh….”

I stopped, glancing up at his face.

“Before you go in there, I want you to know this is way above our pay grade, so you might wanna tread carefully.”

I raised my brows. “When have you ever known me to tread carefully?”

“Never,” he said. “And that’s why I’m telling you this now.”

I paused, watching him in silence, studying his expression and the fear he tried to hide. It was clear that something else was going on here that he hadn’t said yet.

“According to you, she specifically asked for me, right?”

He hesitated for a split second before nodding.

“Then let me do my job,” I answered. “Let me attend to her.”

He exhaled sharply. “Just…don’t go digging. You might not like what you find.” With that, he walked away.

I brushed off his words and grabbed the door handle. It creaked open at a single push, and I walked right in, my eyes darting toward a blond girl. She’d flinched when she heard the door, her breath hitched.

She sat in a chair, jumpy, with her hands on the table. Behind her wide eyes was a flicker of fear, one I’d seen countless times among trafficking survivors.

“July Morales?”

She clenched her jaw, giving a subtle nod.

“I’m Kiera Jane,” I said. “Lawyer. Social worker.”

Her gaze darted to the badge on my jacket as if to confirm. She looked at me, then at the lit hallway across the other side.

Noticing her unease, I asked, “How do you want the door, closed or open? Whatever makes you feel safe.”

A short pause.

“Closed,” she replied. “But not locked.”

“Okay.”

I did as she wanted, then strolled over and settled into the chair across from her. “I was told you asked for me.”

She nodded.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’ve heard stories,” she answered, her voice faint and low. “Testimonies of the girls you’ve helped.”

My heart was warm with something I was yet to name. It felt good to be recognized for a job well done.

“They say you’re good at what you do,” she added, barely meeting my gaze.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “I’m flattered, but it’s my obligation.”

“Obligations weren’t optional where I was.”

“And where was that?”

Silence.

She lowered her head, her fingers absently drawing invisible circles on the table.

A door outside slammed shut, and I watched her shoulders rise. Then stiffen. Her eyes darted toward the noise, her chest heaving with slow, measured breaths.

She was afraid.

“Hey.” I reached out and touched her hand, my voice calm and reassuring. “You’re safe here. No one’s gonna harm you. I promise.”

She met my gaze, her dry lips trembling ever so slightly.

After a moment of thought, she looked at me. “He said it was just bartending. Said the pay was good and I really needed the money.”

“He, who?”

Again, silence.

The terror in her countenance was clear as crystal. She was afraid to speak freely and glancing over her shoulder almost every three seconds. She caught the CCTV mounted at a corner above and lowered her head.

She wasn’t going to give me a name. That fear in her eyes wouldn’t let her.

“Did you sign any contract?”

She shook her head.

“What about transportation?”

“We drove all night. Windows locked,” she answered. “They seized our phones for safekeeping. Said it was policy.”

I noticed the plural in her statement, which meant she wasn’t alone. “You said we. There were others?”

Silence.

July didn’t confirm or deny it.

I rubbed my eyes. “July, I cannot help you if you keep giving me half-baked information.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her head.

I let out a soft sigh. “It’s fine.”

Her fingers curled inward.

I opened the file and turned it toward her. “It says right here that you relocated voluntarily. That the operation concluded without incident.”

She stared at the file in front of her. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then help me understand what really did.”

At this point, her testimony no longer matched the official case record.

“They wrote it before we even left.”

“You’re not making any sense. Who wrote it?”

She hesitated, her eyes locked on mine. “The people who call the shots.” She leaned in and whispered, “They’re everywhere.”

“They’re not in here.”

“Yes, they are,” she insisted, straining her whisper. “Why do you think I asked for you?”

July was indirectly suggesting that some of my colleagues had been compromised. She was saying that whoever was behind her trafficking had eyes and ears in the office.

Personally, I’d always known the system was porous and rigged for malpractice and corruption. If July believed her oppressors were everywhere, including in this office, then maybe I should tread carefully.

That’s when I recalled Jake’s warning.

“…I want you to know that this is way above our pay grade. So you might wanna tread carefully.”

My eyes squinted, my head tilting slightly to the side as suspicion began creeping in.

“Just…don’t go digging. You might not like what you find.”

Did he know something I didn’t?

After July left, I returned to my desk and, amidst the rowdiness of the day, immersed myself in work. While thoroughly reviewing her file again, I noticed that some things weren’t adding up.

Missing names.

Altered dates.

Sealed documents that shouldn’t be sealed.

Because she already put the idea in my head that her oppressors might be watching, I found myself being extra cautious.

I made sure my laptop was positioned so only I could see the screen. And every so often, I would glance around to be sure no one was watching me.

At first, I wanted to rule these out as clerical errors. But the inconsistencies seemed to point toward deliberate interference. Someone had gone through so much trouble to hide something. But what? Someone’s involvement in this case? Whose?

In no time, I found myself going down the rabbit hole. My legal training kicked in, and I began cross-checking public records and archived files. The deeper I dug, the more I realized the truth.

This file was tampered with by someone above me—someone with the clearance I didn’t have. It appeared that whoever they were, they were trying to brush this trafficking operation under the rug.

This individual or these individuals stood in the way of justice. They’d made themselves enemies of the law, disguised as fuckin’ allies. And they could be anyone.

I lifted my head, my eyes scanning the office in silence. My colleagues were busy with work: answering phone calls, exchanging files, and facing lit screens. Everyone was doing something, but I couldn’t help thinking one or more of them might be working for whoever was pulling the strings.

The system was obviously protecting someone, someone powerful and influential.

“Hey.” Jake appeared behind me, seemingly out of nowhere.

I almost flinched in shock, but I held back. Instead, I swiveled to face him, calm and composed. “Hey.”

He bit into his hamburger, his eyes flicking toward my lit laptop screen. “Still on the Morales case?” he asked with his mouth full.

“It’s the only case I’m working on, isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “You do realize you can actually answer a question like a normal person, right?”

I let out a quiet scoff.

The smile on his face gradually vanished, replaced by a more serious look. Not threatening. But worrisome. “Seriously, Kiera…I think you should let this one go,” he whispered. “Some cases aren’t worth risking everything over.”

“What’re you talking about?” I locked eyes with him.

He glanced around for a moment. “Just let it go. Trust me. It’s in your best interest.”

If I had any doubts before, this was enough to convince me he knew more than he let on. Something was going on here, and he’d piqued my curiosity.

***

Later that night, I drove back to my apartment, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep well. The fact that Jake wanted me off this case was the reason I wasn’t going to back down.

There was something fishy going on at the office, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. My car pulled into the driveway, and I killed the engine, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I leaned back in my seat, drawing a deep breath when I spotted a familiar black SUV through my rearview mirror. The vehicle was parked at a safe distance across the street with its headlights off.

I wasn’t tripping; it was the same car that had been tailing me for the past ten minutes. It popped out of a side street and had been on my tail from a distance.

Initially, I didn’t want to think much of it, but seeing the same vehicle in my neighborhood now was alarming. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. Maybe it was a different vehicle. Maybe I was just being paranoid because of the glimpse of the truth I’d seen today.

My thoughts were still a mess when the car’s engine came to life, and I watched it drive past. It traveled along the road and then disappeared into the night. Only then did I feel some kind of relief.

However, a part of me still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I stepped out and headed into my apartment. Once inside, I locked the door behind me, turned on the lights, and took my boots off. Then my socks followed.

The floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I strolled through the living room, shedding my jacket. I tossed it onto the nearest sofa and combed my fingers through my hair.

Just as I was about to make my way upstairs, the curtains swirled in the gentle breeze, revealing a glimpse of the black vehicle outside. I paused, drew my brows together, and then walked over to the window for a closer look.

There was indeed a black vehicle parked across the street. However, it wasn’t the same SUV as before. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered whether I was being spied on. Was someone trying to scare me out of snooping?

It didn’t even make sense that the people involved would already have been tracking me so soon. I hadn’t even begun investigating. It had to be that my mind was playing tricks on me.

I closed the curtains tightly, my heart pounding in my chest.

This is all in my head…right?