Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)
Nicole Fox
One unexpected mistake.
Two unexpected babies.
Three lives changed forever.
Uri Bugrov caught me trespassing, and suddenly, my life is out of control.
I’m pregnant with his baby—correction, his babIES.
I’m also a prisoner of his enemies.
Uri comes to save me, because of course he does.
But my rescue comes with collateral damage.
Because now, Polly is missing.
And even though I’m back under Uri’s protection, there are more uncertainties between us than ever.
What happens if we don’t save her?
What happens when these babies come?
What happens if this is all my fault… and Uri never forgives me?
It’s midnight in our story.
But these babies are coming, one way or another.
I just have to pray that we all make it to dawn.
MIDNIGHT SANCTUARY is Book 2 in the Bugrov Bratva duet. Uri and Alyssa’s story begins in Book 1, MIDNIGHT PURGATORY.
1
ALYSSA
It takes me a long time before I realize that I’m still alive.
It’s easy to forget a thing like that in a place like this, wherever “this” is. It’s mostly dark, mostly cool, mostly damp. I stare at the ceiling and sink into the lumpy mattress beneath me and let my brain go completely numb. There’s no difference between eyes open and eyes closed. It’s all just a blur of the same nothingness.
The first sound to break the silence is my stomach roiling. It jars me from my half-dead trance. It’s been a while since I ate anything. Hours, maybe, although I couldn’t tell you for the life of me how long “an hour” is anymore.
The second sound to break the silence is a sob from the corner. Then, like someone turned on a faucet in my head, all the memories come rushing back.
The broken shards of mirror on the ground.
Rough hands grabbing me, pulling me, twisting me, hurting me.
The sharp tang of chloroform pressed to my nose as I thrashed and thrashed until thrashing didn’t help me anymore.
Polly is the one who’s sobbing.
“Hey,” I croak, as calmly as I can, although my voice hurts from disuse and the lingering sting of the chloroform. “Are you okay?”
“I have a bad feeling, Alyssa,” she says, her voice chock full of panic. “I have such a bad feeling… It’s like something is sitting on my chest. I-I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”
I shove myself up on my elbows. “Pol,” I say sharply, “I need you to close your eyes for me. You might be having a panic attack. I’m gonna talk you through it but I need you to trust me. And I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”
I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks. When Ziva was diagnosed—panic. When Ziva was buried—panic. The day we were both supposed to turn eighteen, the first time in my life I ever had a birthday party to myself… my God, the panic.
It wasn’t our birthday anymore.
It was just mine.
“Are you closing your eyes?”
“Mhmm.”
“Think of open skies and green grass and acres and acres of space.” As I talk, I close my eyes, too, and try to picture the same. “Imagine birds flying through the skies and leaves rustling in the wind. Imagine the smell of freshly-cut grass and blooming flowers.”
“I-I can’t…”
“Shhh,” I say gently. “Keep your eyes closed. Take a deep breath.”
While I counsel her, I look around, trying to notice something, anything, that might help us get out of here. From what I can see as my eyes adjust to the gloom, there are windows, but they’ve been boarded shut. It’s hard to see everything, though, because my wrists have been cuffed to the rusted metal bedframe and that frame itself has been bolted to the floor. It looks like Polina is locked in the same setup. Wriggling does nothing—the metal holds tight.
“A-Alyssa?”
“Sorry,” I murmur. “Just keep breathing, Polly. Deep, steady breaths. You can do this. I’m here.”
I’m not sure if she’s buying my confidence. Honestly, I’m having a hard time buying it myself. But blind hope is all we’ve got at this point. From a totally objective perspective, I’d say it looks like we’re well and truly fucked.
It’s ironic how situational perception can be. I’d give anything to be back in Uri’s basement again, as long it meant I was far from this absolute shithole.
“How’re you feeling now? Is it easier to breathe?”
“A little.” Polly’s voice is still drenched with fear but at least she sounds a bit calmer. “But I’m still scared…”
“Polly, listen to me. They’ve kept us alive for a reason.”
“What if the reason is worse than keeping us alive?”
I have to repeat that sentence in my head before it starts making sense to me. “We’re going to get out of here, Polly.”
She sucks in a breath when we hear a bolt unlatch somewhere. It sounds eerily close. The hairs on my arms and legs stand on end as I catch the sound of footsteps and voices.
Someone’s coming.
“Alyssa.”
“Stay calm and don’t say anything, Polly. We don’t want to—”
I break off when I see light in the far corner. My eyes go wide when I realize that there are cell bars separating us from the staircase. We weren’t really in a room at all.
The light illuminates two silhouettes making their way down the staircase. Both sharp and terrifying, but when they reach the bottom landing, they take shape. The first man is large and burly. The second is short and lean. One flips a switch and suddenly, I’m cringing back, trying to protect my eyes from the assault of light.
“Are the pretty little birds hungry?” the burly one croons in a deep, rasping voice that matches his physique. I blink through the sting in my eyes. He’s got a nasty scar running across his face and a nastier smile plastered across his chapped lips.
“You motherfuckers!” I’m completely taken aback by Polly’s sudden scream. “Let us go! Let us go now or you will be sorry. My brothers will make sure of that!”
“Polly,” I gasp, trying to catch her eye. “Poll—”
“Let us out of this shithole!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the short one cackles, his eyes fixed on Polly as he runs a hand over his tattoo sleeve. “The little kitten has claws.”
The burly one chuckles. It sounds like a cement mixer backfiring. “All she’s got is a mouth on her. She may spit and hiss, but it’s just noise at the end of the day.”
“Fuckers!” Polly screeches, pulling at her restraints so hard that I can see the red welt they’ve left around her wrists. “FUCKERS!”
Scarface narrows his eyes at Polly as he moves away from the cell door. “You know what? I was supposed to open the door and make sure the two of you were fed. But now…?” He flings the thinly-wrapped sandwiches through the bars of the cell. They land on the floor, far out of reach. “Well, we can call that ‘feeding time.’ Close enough, right?”