Mafia's Captive |(His Captive)|✓

Chapter 33

It has been 18 months since Gaia left, and my life has changed in ways I never imagined. As I stand in front of the large office window, looking out at the city, the reflections from the city lights blend with my own image in the glass. The window, with its ability to show both the outside world and a faint, unclear picture of myself, seems like a metaphor for my life—caught between who I was and who I've become.

Gone are the wild hair, the dark-washed jeans, the heavy boots, and the long silver chains. Now, I wear simple, solid-coloured cotton shirts, and plain blue jeans mostly. My boots are no longer the statement pieces they used to be; they are practical and understated. My hair, once long and unruly, is now cut short and neatly styled, thanks to Ruslan's insistence.

I used to hate three-piece suits, viewing them as symbols of the white-collar life I never wanted. Growing up in poverty, I had never imagined myself wearing them. But now, I find myself in them often, particularly for meetings. I adjust the cuffs of my shirt, feeling the weight of the suit jacket on my shoulders. I look every bit the powerful Pakhan of the Bratva, yet it feels like a mask I have to wear, a costume for the role I play.

Running the Bratva has been gruelling. The betrayal by our father fractured our ranks, and for months, it was difficult to know who was on our side and who wasn't. I even got shot once during an ambush, a stark reminder of the constant danger I was in. The Bratva was in shambles, and every day was a battle to keep it together.

The city lights outside twinkle, casting a soft glow that mixes with my faint reflection. As I stare at the blurred image, I think about Gaia. It's good that she's not here; it would have been nearly impossible to protect her, especially when I had failed her so profoundly before. The thought of her brings a dull ache to my chest. She's in France now, at a fancy rehab centre. She never went back to Nevada, and I doubt she ever will. I'm the one paying for her stay, and she knows it. Ruslan has visited her five times in the past 18 months, and he tells me she pays attention when he talks about me.

I turn away from the window, the reflection fading into the background as I head to my desk. The office is quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil outside its walls. As I sit down, I think about how far we've come and how far I still have to go. I've worked tirelessly to become the man Gaia might want, someone worthy of her love. But the insecurity gnaws at me, the fear that I'm still not enough.

Ruslan enters the office, his presence a steadying force. "You ready?" he asks, his eyes scanning me with a mixture of pride and concern.

I nod. "As ready as I'll ever be."

We head to the conference room, where Easton Church is waiting. This has been relentless coming here like a dog that was shooed away many times before. I sighed in frustration and let him in to hear what he had to say before I left for France. He ate 45 minutes of my precious time but in the end I owed a powerful man a huge favour. Should have let him in the first time he came.

"I've got it covered. You focus on Gaia." Ruslan spoke to me, as i left rather confused and guilt-ridden behind in my office.

I appreciate his support, but the nerves are still there, coiled tightly in my gut. The flight to France is long, giving me too much time to think. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she's moved on? I've prepared myself for heartbreak, but the thought of facing it is daunting.

As the plane descends into France, I feel a mixture of fear and hope. I've worked so hard to become the man she might like to be with. Now, it's time to find out if I've succeeded. The car ride to the rehab centre is quiet, and when we finally arrive, I take a deep breath before stepping out.