Page 69 of Obsessed Bratva King

Cora glares at me, and I can already see her mind working.

I arch a brow. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

She squares her shoulders. Stubborn. Reckless. Mine.

"I spent a week with him," she says. "I know how he thinks. He’s impatient. Short-tempered. Self-centered. And most importantly, he never suspects he’s being played because he’s too arrogant to believe anyone could outsmart him. But bring him to your location? You really think he’ll fall for that?”

Cora’s eyes flick around the table, reading the men around her, and then she steps closer to the monitors on the far wall, where Darren’s face stares back at us from surveillance footage.

"The best way to get him is to appeal to his ego," she explains. "Make him think he’s won."

I cross my arms, considering her words.

"How?"

She takes a breath, steadying herself. "I pretend I want to make a deal—seemingly alone, holding the flash drive as bait. He’ll think I’m desperate, that I’m looking for a way out. He’ll believe I’m playing both sides, and that’s exactly the kind of arrogance that will bring him straight to us. You watch and when I give the signal, you pounce."

Silence stretches in the room.

I hate the thought of her being any part of this. I hate that she’s offering herself up as bait like she’s nothing more than a pawn in this game.

But the truth is—it’s a good plan. She said us, not her. She’s already accepted this world.

Maxim exhales through his nose. "It could work," he admits. "Darren wouldn’t be able to resist taking the bait if he thinks she’s selling us out."

Dmitri tilts his head. "Risky, though. If he catches even a whiff of an ambush, he won’t show."

"That’s why I have to make him believe I’m doing it alone," Cora says. "That I want out of this mess just as much as he does."

I tap my fingers against the table, considering. I don’t like it. But I can’t deny the logic in her words.

"And what do you suggest we do when he arrives at your location?" I ask.

Her jaw tightens. "Make sure he doesn’t leave."

She’s breathing hard, eyes bright, alive with the fire of someone who refuses to be caged. She thinks she’s proving something here. That she’s more than just the woman I’m keeping safe.

I want to tell her she doesn’t need to prove anything.

But I can’t. Not now.

Because she just made herself part of this war.

Maxim nods at her. Respect.

Dmitri tips an imaginary glass. Approval.

"It’s a good strategy," Maxim finally says. "We can refine the details, but the foundation is solid."

Cora exhales slowly.

And then, without another word, she sits back down.

The meeting drags on, but my focus never fully leaves Cora.

The others keep discussing the details of the trap, the timing, the positioning, the weapons. Plans are being made, war set in motion, but in the corner of my vision, Cora is too still.

She hasn't spoken since we agreed on the plan. Her hands press against her lap, her nails faintly digging into her palms. She looks pale.

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