Page 86 of Obsessed Bratva King

CORA

The docks stretch out in front of me, empty and silent.

Too silent.

The wind rolls off the Hudson, thick with the scent of salt and oil, but the usual sounds of the city—horns in the distance, water lapping against the pilings—feel muted.

I grip my gun tighter, my pulse hammering as I scan the area.

Where is he?

Something is very wrong.

Then—movement.

I whirl, gun raised.

Shadows shift. Figures emerge from between the rusted shipping containers, stepping into the dim yellow glow of a flickering dock light.

Too many.

My stomach twists.

They fan out in a wide arc, surrounding me. Big, heavily armed, their expressions gleeful in the way only killers can be.

And then?—

A man steps forward.

Darren.

Smiling.

Fuck.

I don’t move, don’t breathe, just tighten my grip on the gun, forcing my face into something unreadable.

Darren smirks, tilting his head. “Coming to kill me?”

His men chuckle, their guns already drawn as he continues.

“Do that and you’ll never see your sweetheart again.”

My heart pounds so hard I swear they can hear it.

I straighten my shoulders. I don’t let my voice shake. Stand up tall, they told me. Be confident. “Where is he?”

Darren steps closer.

“It eats you up that I’m smarter than you both, doesn’t it?”

My blood turns to ice.

He’s close enough now that I can see the amusement in his dark eyes, the slow, deliberate way he moves—like a man who already knows he’s won.

He gestures lazily to his men. “And I always have a backup plan.”

I calculate my options.

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