Cruel Submission (Laurov Bratva #2)

Chapter One

Mirabel

The door swings open before I finish knocking.

“Oh my God, Mirabel!”

Diane pulls me inside, and I’m wrapped in her arms, breathing in lavender and old books and that vanilla candle she burns obsessively. The apartment has never looked so welcoming.

My legs give out.

“Whoa— I’ve got you.” Her grip tightens as I sag against her. “Jesus. What happened?”

I can’t answer. My throat won’t work. All I can do is shake my head while she half-carries me to the couch.

The door shuts. The world is sealed out.

For now.

“Mirabel.” Diane crouches in front of me, hands on my shoulders. Her eyes go wide. “God, babe, no offense, but you look like crap. What happened? Are you okay?”

I open my mouth, but my teeth won’t stop chattering. The shaking takes over… violent tremors I can’t control. Adrenaline finally crashing after hours of running on pure terror.

I almost got kidnapped.

If the bus driver had been one second slower—

“I’ll tell you everything, Dee.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “I just— I need the bathroom.”

I’m already moving, stumbling down the hall.

“Mirabel, wait—” She follows. “What are these bruises? Are you hurt? Did your boss—?”

“Just let me use the bathroom first.”

I don’t mean to snap at her, but I can feel myself about to break open, and I need to be alone when it happens.

I reach the bathroom and shut the door. Lock it.

Diane’s shadow appears beneath the door. “Okay. Take your time.” Her voice is soft now. “You want to take a bath? I’ll grab you a towel. You know where everything is.”

Her footsteps fade.

I lean against the door and let myself fall apart.

The tears come hot and silent. My body shakes. I slide down to the cold tile and sob into my hands, trying to muffle the sound.

I almost lost everything.

The baby. My life. Dad.

Arkady.

His name carves through me like a blade. Does he even know I’m missing yet? Or is he still at Ashwater Heights, moving through his day while I nearly vanished off the face of the earth?

I press my palms over my eyes until white stars burst behind my lids.

“There you are, darling. You’ve had your little adventure. Time to go home now.”

Kostya’s voice. His hand reaching for the bus door.

Another sob rips out of me.

“Mira?” Diane’s voice seeps through the door. “I’m right here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

I force myself to breathe. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

Again.

Again.

The shaking slows. I push to my feet and grip the sink for balance. I feel wrecked. Hair tangled, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, bruises blooming on my arms and throat. There’s a cut on my palm from when I kicked the van doors open.

You’re alive, Mirabel.

I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. It stings the scrapes on my palms, but I need the shock of it.

A bath. Right.

I strip off my torn clothes, my shirt ripped at the shoulder, my jeans split at the knee. Evidence. I turn on the water, adjust the temperature until it’s almost scalding.

Steam fills the room. I lower myself in slowly, hissing as the heat touches my battered skin.

Then I’m submerged, and the water closes over me. For the first time in hours, I can breathe.

I lean my head back and close my eyes.

I focus on my breathing again until time begins to blur. I don’t know how long I stay in the bath. Long enough for the water to cool. Long enough for my fingers to prune.

When I finally drag myself out, wrapped in an oversized towel, Diane’s built a nest of blankets on the couch. There’s tea steaming on the coffee table.

“Come here.”

I sink into the couch and let her tuck the blankets around me. The tea is chamomile—sweet and floral. I wrap my hands around the mug.

Diane settles beside me, knee pressed against mine. “Mirabel.” Her voice is gentle. “Talk to me. What the hell is happening?”

I take a sip. The heat spreads through my chest. But there’s no easy way to say this.

“Dad’s back in the hospital.” My voice comes out hollow. “Treatment failed. He collapsed.”

Her face goes pale. “Oh, Mira—”

“And today I was at his house. Waiting for a ride.” I swallow. “Three men grabbed me. They put something over my face… knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in a van.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“They were taking me to Dubai.” The words scrape out. “I heard them. They said the name Gavriil Laurov.”

Diane’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“My boss’s dad.”

She stares at me. “Why would—?”

“I don’t know.” I close my eyes. “But I kicked the van doors open in traffic. I ran. One of them chased me. A guy called Kostya. I got on a bus, but he—” My hands shake.

Tea sloshes over the rim. “He almost caught me. The driver hit the gas just in time.” I swallow hard.

“Luckily, there was a nurse on the bus who gave me money to get a cab to you. Otherwise, I don’t know where I would have ended up. ”

Diane takes the mug from me and sets it down. Then she pulls me close. “You’re safe now. You’re here.”

I bury my face in her shoulder, and the tears come again, quieter this time.

When I pull back, her expression is grim. “We need to get you to a doctor,” she says. “The baby—”

“The baby’s fine,” I assure her. “I got a few bruises and scrapes, but mainly, I was terrified. I just need a bit of time to regroup.”

Diane looks skeptical, but doesn’t argue. “If you’re certain…”

“Absolutely certain,” I assure her. “I have a lot more to think about right now.”

“Jesus. There’s more?” Diane is incredulous.

“Yeah.” I sound exhausted even to myself. “I need to tell you all of it.”

“Okay.”

So I do.

I tell her about Stefan—the man from the woods six years ago, the one I thought took Debra. How seeing him at Arkady’s house made me spiral.

I tell her about how I’ve been hiding my pregnancy because the second Arkady finds out, I’m done. And no job means no treatment for Dad, who looks like he might not actually make it anyhow.

I tell her how I’m pretty sure that Arkady’s involved in shady business, and that I’m afraid, most of all, of what he might do to me if I make him angry enough.

By the time I finish, Diane looks stunned.

“This is a horror story, Mirabel.” Her voice is low. “You can’t go back to that house.”

“Dad still needs the money.” I sound flat. Dead. “It’s my fault Debra disappeared. It’s my fault Dad got sick. And now there’s a baby.”

The guilt sits in my chest like a stone.

“Mirabel.” Diane leans forward. “You have to tell Arkady about the baby. You should—”

“I can’t.”

“But—”

“If I tell him, I lose everything.” My voice cracks. “The job. The money. Dad’s treatment.”

“What about the police?” She grips my hand. “You were almost kidnapped. Those men could still be looking for you.”

I half laugh. It comes out bitter.

“The police.” I shake my head. “Did they help when Debra disappeared? Did they do anything?”

Diane’s mouth opens. Closes.

“You really think the police can touch people like Arkady?” I pull my hand back. “People like Stefan? Like Gavriil Laurov?”

She has no answer.

Because we both know the truth.

Men like that don’t get touched by the law.

“Stay here tonight.” Diane’s voice is quiet now. Almost defeated. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

I nod. Too tired to argue.

She grabs another blanket and tucks it around my shoulders. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

But sleep doesn’t come.

I lie on Diane’s couch, wrapped in blankets, staring at the ceiling. Shadows shift and dance from the streetlight outside. My mind won’t stop.

The van. The zip ties cutting into my wrists. The chase through traffic. Kostya’s hand reaching for me.

“There you are, darling.”

I press my hand to my stomach. It’s too early to feel anything, but the knowledge is there—this tiny life depending on me.

I won’t let them take me.

I won’t let them take this baby.

But even as I think it, doubt creeps in.

How do I fight a man who can snatch people off the street in broad daylight?

How do I protect myself when I don’t even understand the game being played?

And Arkady—

Does he know I’m missing yet? Is he looking for me? Or does he think I ran away, that I finally got sick of his secrets and his dangerous world and left?

Would he even care?

The thought hurts more than it should.

I close my eyes, but I can still see Kostya’s face. Can still feel the drug in my system, the terror of waking up in that van.

Dubai.

Gavriil Laurov.

How is Arkady connected to all of this?

And how did I get myself into such a mess?