Page 31 of Obsessed Bratva King

I brace myself against the sink, breathing heavily, my skin clammy. The bitter taste of bile coats my tongue. Maybe a stomach bug. Maybe stress. Maybe the fact I killed someone and don’t regret it.

I rinse my mouth, splash cold water onto my face, and force myself to move.

I throw on my work uniform. The shirt is a little tighter than I remember. My hands fumble as I button it up, irritation rising in my chest.

I’m rushing for the door when I trip over something.

A dull thud against the floor.

I look down, frowning.

The duffel bag. I’ve caught my toe around the strap, yanked it out from under the sofa on my way to the door.

I crouch down, cursing under my breath, reaching for the strap. I pull it too hard and trip, falling to the ground and ripping the strap at the same time.

Something gives.

A loose thread. A hidden seam tearing open.

And then—a glint of silver.

A small, metallic object skitters out from a hidden compartment, clinking softly against the floorboards.

My stomach twists again, but for an entirely different reason.

I pick up the device, turning it over in my fingers. A USB flash drive.

A chill races down my spine.

Is this why Darren was so desperate to catch me?

I glance at the time. I’m going to be late. I should leave it until tonight.

I grab my laptop and plug in the flash drive. The ancient screen hums to life eventually, the drive loading.

Encrypted. Of course. Gibberish and hashtags for file names, hundreds of them.

I rip the flash drive from the laptop like it’s on fire, my hands shaking. My pulse slams against my ribs as I shove it into my handbag, burying it beneath old receipts and hairgrips.

My mind races. I press a hand to my forehead, trying to steady my breathing.

I need to go to work.

I grab my coat, shove my arms into the sleeves, force myself toward the door. But the weight in my chest, the suffocating knowledge that I’m holding something dangerous, refuses to go away.

This is why he came after me. He was hiding it in the bathroom. I thought it was just money but it was this. Whatever the hell it is.

The city is brisk, the morning air crisp against my skin, but I barely feel it. I move quickly, weaving through the streets, my mind still tangled in the wreckage of what I just found.

I try to shake it off. Try to convince myself that it means nothing—that it has nothing to do with me.

I cross the street, my boots clicking against the sidewalk, my hands shoved deep into my coat pockets. The weight of the discovery sits heavy in my chest, suffocating. I just need to get to work.

Another wave of nausea hits me and I grab my stomach, glancing into a shop window as I do. A pharmacy. I stop so abruptly that someone nearly collides into me, muttering a curse as they swerve past. I don’t even register it.

I just stare at the bright white and green sign, at the familiar lettering, at the doors I’ve passed by a dozen times without a second thought.

Now, I can’t look away.

---