Page 38 of My Bratva Stalker

I can do this.

I have to.

Before it’s too late.

Before—

I feel the first prickle of awareness.

A cold shudder crawling up my spine.

The sensation of being watched.

My breath hitches.

No.

No, no, no.

I whip my head toward the terminal entrance—

And my stomach drops.

Because he’s here.

Viktor.

Standing right outside the airport doors.

Hands tucked into his pockets.

Waiting.

For me.

Viktor

I see her the second she steps out of the cab. Hair wild, lips parted, eyes darting everywhere—panicked, desperate.

My prey. And she’s trying to run from me.

Not happening.

She doesn’t see me right away.

She’s too busy fumbling for her wallet, handing cash to the driver with shaking hands.

Her fingers drop her ID.

She scrambles, kneeling to grab it, trembling.

That’s when it hits me.

The image of her, on her knees. Exactly where she belongs. My jaw locks, my cock already thickening.

But she’s not kneeling for me. Right now, she’s kneeling to escape me.

And I fucking snap.

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