Craved by the Wrong Volkov-Chapter 357: Old farm house

Braelyn’s POV

The ringing tone ruined the semblance in the car. Lucien didn’t want the answer but the look in his eyes proved it was something important

He picked up immediately, his voice shifting into something cold as he responded in Russian. I couldn’t understand everything, but I caught a few words. "My yeyo nashli." (We found her.) The other party’s rough voice said.

My eyes opened slightly. Lucien’s gaze was cool as a pool. The type of gaze he had before he was about to do something dangerous. Lucien replied just as quickly, still in Russian. "Khorosho. Ya budu tam." (Alright. I will be there.)

The call ended with a final tone and silence filled the car again. His hands were still weaving through my dark hair that spilt all over his lap.

Then I felt his gaze on me. " You’re awake," he said quietly. His voice was soft and he spoke with a quiet certainty.

I didn’t bother pretending otherwise. I opened my eyes and stared at him. He hesitated for a brief second before answering. "Do you want to take a detour?" he asked, as if it were a question, but I had a feeling he wanted me to follow him badly.

My brows furrowed slightly as I lifted my head to look at him. "To where?" I asked quietly, not bothering to raise my head.

For a fleeting moment, something about his expression made my chest tighten as I stared at his face from this angle. It was eerie how similar Lucien and Raphael were facially. They have the same hazel eyes, the same jaw structure and other minor details. Just thinking about it was unsettling

I pushed the thought away before I fell too deep.

"My men found your old maid, the one Amelia fired," Lucien said.

My breath caught as my eyes went wide. I jolted up sitting up. "Sylvia Kent." I blurted. My heart was already racing with a strange excitement

He nodded. "Yeah. If you want you can get your answers now."

*******

The car slowed as we left the main road, the smooth asphalt giving way to rough gravel road that crunched beneath the tyres. I lifted my head slightly, peering through the tinted window.

The city lights had long disappeared, replaced by an unsettling stretch of darkness ahead broken only by distant farmhouses and bare trees swaying in the winter wind.

When the car finally came to a stop, silence settled heavily around us. "We are here." The driver announced.

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself before reaching for my bag. My fingers moved almost automatically as I pulled out a wet wipe and wiped at my face. The mascara had already smudged beyond saving, and my reflection on the faint glass window looked like someone who had just survived a storm.

I wiped again, more carefully this time, cleaning the streaks as best as I could, until the mess was gone. I let out a quiet breath and straightened.

"Ready.."Lucien mentioned then stepped out first. The cold air rushed in the moment the door opened, biting against my skin. He circled the car and opened my door, offering his hand without a word.

I took it, his warm grasp held my hand firmly. The farmhouse looked ordinary at first glance. Wooden structure, dim porch light, nothing that stood out of the ordinary.

We walked up the short steps together, our footsteps echoing faintly against the wood. Lucien knocked three times on the door. A code I guess. For a moment, nothing happened, then a click rang.

The door creaked open, a sliver of warm light spilling into the cold night. A man peeked through the gap, his sharp eyes landing on Lucien first, assessing him carefully before the door opened wider.

"Welcome," he said in accented English. He was obviously Slavic.

His gaze shifted briefly to me, but he didn’t linger. He stepped aside to let us in. The moment I crossed the threshold, recognition hit me. My grip on Lucien’s arm tightened instinctively.

I knew him.

He was one of the men from before. One of the wardens who had watched over me when Yelena had me locked away. The one who called me princess. An unpleasant feeling crept up my spine.

Lucien noticed immediately the shift. His hand shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against mine before tightening around my waist in a possessive way. He tilted his head just enough for his voice to reach only me.

"You are safe," he said quietly. I swallowed, forcing myself to nod.

Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. "Why are you using your grandmother’s people?" I asked, unable to hide the unease in my tone.

Lucien exhaled softly. "Because the Orlov network is the best at finding people who don’t want to be found," he replied. "If someone leaves the country and changes their identity, they are still able to track them."

My chest tightened. So it was true. Sylvia hadn’t just disappeared. She had run.

Lucien’s arm slid more firmly around my waist, pulling me slightly closer to his side as if sensing the shift in my thoughts.

"If you are not comfortable, we can leave," he said. "I can have someone else handle it."

I shook my head almost immediately. "No. I can manage." I turned down the idea

He studied my face for a second before nodding. "Alright," Lucien muttered.

Then, as if remembering something, he added in a quieter tone, "Keep your voice down. He hears everything."

Heat rushed to my face instantly. I glanced at the man ahead of us, mortified at the thought that he might have heard everything we just said. His expression remained blank, as if he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

That only made it worse.

"She is in the basement," he said calmly, leading the way down a narrow corridor. "We found her in a foreign town living with a different identity." Yet it was surprising how easily they found her. The Orlov network was terrifying.

The man led the way. Each step I took felt heavier than the last.

The corridor was dim, the walls lined with shadows that stretched unnaturally under the flickering lights. When we reached the door at the end, he pushed it open, revealing a staircase that descended into darkness.

The light flickered on above us. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before following.

The air grew colder as we went down. The faint smell of damp wood and dust filled my nose, and I noticed the thin strands of cobwebs clinging to the corners of the stairwell. My heart started to pound louder with every step.

At the bottom, there was another door. The man knocked once before opening it.

Light flooded out from inside..I stepped in slowly, my eyes took a while to adjust to the blinding lights.

As soon as I could see my gaze immediately fell on her. Sylvia Kent.

She was tied to a chair in the centre of the room, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her hair was dishevelled, her face pale and exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

The moment her eyes met mine, everything in her expression shattered. Guilt was written all over her face.