Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)(5)

“How can you know that?”

“Because I know your brother. Have you ever known him to give up? Especially when it comes to you and Lev?”

Polly looks too tired to sum up the slightest bit of positivity. Her eyes are blank and dead. I can’t let her sink any lower or I might lose her completely.

“I need you to stay positive. I know it’s hard while we’re trapped down here, chained to these beds with no food and water. But I need you to try anyway.”

“I don’t think I can.”

There’s a whimper in her voice and I’m reminded again that she’s only fourteen years old. All I want to do is draw her into my arms and hold her until she starts feeling better. But since I can’t comfort her the way I want to, I decide to give her the one thing in my possession that I think might make a difference.

“You have to. You have to believe we can survive this. You have to believe we’re going to be okay. My baby’s going to need their cool aunt around, after all.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “W-what did you say?”

I give her a small smile. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“You’re pregnant,” she whispers. She glances at my belly. “You’re pregnant.”

I glance at the cameras, mostly to remind her to be quiet. “Yes, I am,” I whisper back. “I have been for a while now.”

“How long is a while?”

“Ten weeks, give or take.”

There it is—the little flicker of life I was hoping for. The brightness comes back, the dullness recedes, and Polly straightens just a little bit taller. “I… I can’t believe it.”

“Trust me—I couldn’t either at first.”

She’s looking more like herself now. The arch of her eyebrows has that old streak of mischievousness. “Does he know?”

“No. I was serious: you’re the first person I’ve told.”

“That was your trump card, huh?”

“Depends. Did it work?”

She nods slowly. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

“Being an aunt requires both of us to get out of here in one piece,” I remind her. “We’re made of stronger stuff than they think we are, Polly. We can fight them. We can get out of here. I will have this baby and you’re going to be the best aunt.”

She’s looking a little teary-eyed again, but I’m pretty sure these are the good kind of tears. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

“Of course.”

“Can I ask you something?” When I nod, she asks, “Why haven’t you told Uri yet?”

I hesitate. If there was ever a time for honesty, though, it’s right now. “For the first few days after I suspected that I might be pregnant, I was in denial. Then, when it became obvious, I was scared to tell him. Things with Uri and me are… complicated. I wasn’t even sure he’d be happy. And to be honest, deep down, I knew I wanted this baby.”

“Uri will be happy, too, you know. He just might not know it right away.”

I snort with laughter. “That’s comforting.”

“But seriously,” Polly says, adjusting her position on the mattress, “he’s going to be a great father.”

I nod. “I already know that.”

Polly smiles. “And you’re going to be a fantastic mother.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard that word used out loud in relation to me. Mother. It sounds so important. So heavy. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re so amazing with Lev. You bonded with him in days when I didn’t manage to in years. That comes from a natural mothering instinct.”

“Polly—”

Before I can finish my sentence, we hear the bolt unlatch. Polly’s eyes go wide with panic and the color drains from her face.

“A-are they coming for me?” she gasps.

My instinct is to jump out of bed and shield her with my body. But these fucking restraints. Every time I pull at them, the sting of my raw, bloody skin makes me regret it.

“Hey now,” I tell her urgently. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re stronger than they think, Polina Bugrov. You’re as Bratva as your older brothers. You’ll survive this. Remember who you are.”

I’m not sure if the words are getting through to her. Her eyes are fixed on the same two Russians who came the first time. Tattoo Arm licks his lips when he sees me and flings a plastic package onto my bed. I don’t bother examining it just yet—I’m concentrating on Scarface, who’s making a beeline for Polly’s mattress.

Oh, God. They are here for her.

“No!” she screams, realizing the same thing. “No, please! NO!”

Scarface says something in Russian with a deep, throaty chuckle. He undoes Polly’s restraints and hoists her into his arms. She looks like a little ragdoll against his muscular chest.

My sense of calm breaks. “Please. Don’t take her. Take me instead. TAKE ME INSTEAD!”

Both men look at me with amusement. “We would, gladly,” Tattoo Arm says with another lip lick. “But the boss has other plans for you.”

They turn back to each other and continue talking in Russian. I can’t understand anything they’re saying. Over the sounds of Polly’s frantic screams, I can’t really hear much at all. But I do catch a name amidst the strange, slurring words.