Page 60 of Obsessed Bratva King

I drop my gaze, focusing on the sheets twisted in my hands. "You want to know what I used to dream about while I was on the streets?”

“What?”

“I used to dream about having a family." I touch my stomach. “One where I could make my children feel safe, where no one could hurt us.”

Silence.

When I look up, Ivan is watching me.

Not with pity. Not with softness.

But with something raw. Dark. Possessive.

Then, his grip on my hand tightens, firm and grounding.

"Then we make sure our child never knows anything else."

He shifts, his tenderness replaced by cold, calculating precision as he glances at the time.

"How did Darren get to you?" His voice is steel now, his hand still locked with mine. “I left a note, told you to stay put.”

"I got a text from your phone. I thought…" I hesitate, shaking my head. "I thought it was you. Said the penthouse had been compromised and you were sending a cab to collect me."

His entire body goes rigid.

"They used my fingerprint." His voice is sharp with fury, but not at me—at himself. “Unlocked it while I was unconscious. Clever.”

His jaw clenches, his grip tightening against my fingers before he suddenly wrenches his hand away, shoving up from the bed.

His knuckles crack as he fists his hands at his sides. "I should have seen that coming. Next time, I’ll use a code. If a message is bullshit I’ll call you kitty kat. Got it?"

“Kitty kat. Got it. You know this isn’t your fault, don’t you?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It doesn’t matter." His voice is all steel now, all dominance. "What matters is making Darren pay for hurting you."

I nod. "And how do we do that?"

"I don’t know yet." His eyes flick to mine. "Any ideas?”

I sit up straight. “You said the flash drive gave away its location, right?”

“Right. So?”

“So you choose the right moment to send that signal again. Draw him into a trap.”

He smiles. “I like it.” He kisses me. “You’re not dumb.”

“Sure I am, I married you, didn’t I?”

He kisses me again. “Dumbest thing you ever did.”

A sharp knock at the door interrupts us.

Ivan moves instantly, his body coiling, sensing danger. He’s already pulling a gun from his waistband as he strides toward the door, his steps measured, silent and deadly.

He glances back at me, his eyes like ice. A warning. Stay put.

I lift a brow but say nothing. I trust him to handle whatever’s coming.

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