Page 39 of Bratva Beast

“Ha, ha. Izzy. I’m not the damn chauffeur.”

I flick my head at the SUV. “Uh, huh.” I chuckle as he mutters, “fuck,” while we walk into the hospital. The resignation in his voice makes me smile. It sucks to realize your life has been turned into something you don’t want. The question is whether you can make it your own.

CYNRIC

I growl as I answer. Saxon’s calling. Fuck. Everything better be good with Isabella. “Hello?”

“Hey, bro.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I talked to Izzy about a wedding on the way to the hospital.”

My ears ping on the word wedding, and I stop scrolling on my computer. “What?”

“She seemed agreeable to marrying you.”

My heart speeds up as my mouth dries. “Wait? You proposed to my woman for me?”

“No, dumbass. I told her she needs to marry you because you’re being a beast, and I’m tired of it.”

“That’s all it took?”

Saxon is silent. “I guess. We talked about Hugo’s vineyard and getting a dress and stuff.”

“She agreed?”

“Yeah. You need a ring and a cool proposal. Like the ones on social media that they show on the reels. You know something epic.”

My head spins through scenarios. “Epic?”

“Yeah. A gondola ride or a carriage ride in Central Park or a sky writer.”

“Dude. You are such a girl.”

Saxon scoffs. “I’m not. I just like the romantic things.”

“Okay. Well, speaking of romantic.” I chuckle a sadistic sound. “I need to go kill someone, so keep an eye on my future wife.”

“Yes, Cynric.”

I end my call and tap my cell phone into my palm. Would it really be that easy? I find myself stewing about Isabella instead of gearing up for the scene I’ll find at the warehouse. I grimace.Climbing out of the backseat of the SUV, my phone rings again. “Papa?”

“When are you marrying the mother of my grandchild?”

“Soon.” Get off my back. “We’re thinking about the vineyard.”

“Just get it done.”

I hand my phone to my driver as I roll up my sleeves to enter the warehouse.

The large two-story entry of the cold, dark, concrete building leads to a set of doors and a stairway leading either up or down. I’m going down. My hands itch to feel bones crack as I hit something. Trudging down the stairs, adrenaline spikes in my blood. Fucking traitors. I thought we’d ended this with the last one. The enforcer opens the steel gray door as I plow through.

Anatoly grins. “We’ve got his wife on ice. She told us about his meeting with the feds.” He flipped his hand at the man sitting tied to a chair. Blood trickles down the side of his face from a gash in his temple.

I smirk. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

“No, boss. I wanted to get anything I could from him before the players moved out of position. We missed him the last time we dealt with a traitor. I wanted to send the guys to collect anyone that had helped him before they slipped out of our reach.”

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