Traded To The Bratva: My Husband's Betrayal

d at the br

thes on my back and a body that felt less like f

tires crunching on gravel as they pulled over.

ered, tossing my purse onto the si

a bus station. I used the emergency cash I kept sewn into t

Dante and I lived in before he became a Capo

d like a junkie-bruised, limping, my hair matted with

et. Dust motes danced in the sunlight

the bedroom closet. I punched

ight blin

again.

ng for

the corner, looking pristine in white silk. She held

ty crackling between the prongs

know when to q

til my spine hit the wall. "Give it to me, an

arp. "He might get sentimental. He might re

lu

ribs screamed in protest, slowin

hot lightning bolt seizing my m

in the stomach. I curled into a bal

e spat. "You are the

ed. Heavy footsteps

" Dante

me on the floor, broken and gasping

ver to Lucia and gently took the weapo

" he asked me, his voice

I gasped, clutching

ook it. He looked at the photo of me, young and sm

my chest. It lande

" he

ested, her voice sh

e, his eyes dark. "You are still my property on paper, Seraphina. But you are dea

ang in the air, hea

dframe to pull myself up, my legs tre

py with unshed tears. "When you realize what you'

the apartment. I

dn't go to the police. I bought a ticket to the first internation

was a burner I had bought at a kiosk

wasn'

ing two million to the abandoned textile f

, the realization hit m

in Auckland, watching the r

had L

they t