Page 3 of Scarred Bratva King

“Apparently not.” I look up at him, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “Mark my words. The Bratva will hunt you down for this.”

“Oh, Veronica,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Don’t you get it yet? We’ll look back and laugh at this one day. Together, we’ll rule over this city as husband and wife.”

I take my chance, sprinting for the door while his back’s turned, my breath harsh as I scramble.

If he thinks I might get away, he really will shoot me. But what choice do I have? I’ve got to try.

I almost make it.

Just as I start to fumble with the latch, he yanks my hair, lifting me off my feet.

“Wrong decision,” he says, his grip tightening.

There’s a flash of brightness as the butt of his pistol comes down, an explosive moment of agony, then darkness.

2

VERONICA

Iwake up to the sound of rushing water grows. I blink the world back into focus. It’s the middle of the night and my head feels like it might split in two at any moment.

I’m shivering like mad and it takes a moment to work out why. The son of a bitch has stripped me down to my underwear.

I look around. I’m on a bridge somewhere, streetlights stretching out left and right, casting cold orange halos down onto the water.

God alone knows what time it is. A metal railing digs into my stomach, biting through my skin. Something’s pressing into me from behind.

“Finally awake,” Marco murmurs in my ear, reaching into my panties and giving my ass a painful squeeze.

I can feel his cock digging into my lower back as he grinds against me. “You know, I fucked you while you were asleep a few times. Meant that mouth of yours wasn’t whining on.”

His voice is calm, like we’re sharing an intimate moment instead of standing over a river that’s clearly ready to swallow me whole.

“I could fuck you right now.” His voice grows gleeful, full of excitement.

“I fight him harder but he just laughs at me. “I always love this bit,” he hisses. “The realization when they know they’re going in.”

My heart pounds as I twist against his grip. “Marco, stop—” The words choke in my throat as I glance down. The river is a void, its powerful currents surging beneath me. I feel dizzy, my legs turning weak as he tips me forward.

“Goodbye, Veronica. Shame we couldn’t work it out.”

My mind flashes to a survival article I read once about cold water.The shock will hit like a punch. Don’t panic. Hold your breath. Keep your head above the surface. Focus.

The wind is howling around us, tugging at my hair, but I force myself to meet his eyes for this final moment.

“Go fuck yourself,” I spit, my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my chest as he grins back at me.

Something flickers in his expression—disbelief, anger, frustration. He wants fear from me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“Could have had something real special,” he says, tipping me straight over the side.

The railing vanishes, replaced by open air and a deafening rush of wind. My scream is ripped from my throat as I plummet toward the freezing river below.

Hold your breath. Kick for the surface. Survive long enough so you can kill that son of a bitch.

The water hits like a brick wall, the impact slamming the breath from my lungs. It’s colder than anything I’ve ever felt, icy tendrils clawing into my skin, seizing my chest in a vice. I clamp my mouth shut.

My body screams for air, but I force myself not to inhale.Don’t panic. Don’t panic.The words echo in my head as I kick desperately, trying to surface.

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