Page 38 of Obsessed Bratva King

But his muscles go taut beneath my fingers, his breath shifting the tiniest fraction.

Good. So he can feel something.

I press the bandage against his skin, deliberate, careful.

His lips twitch again—something like amusement.

“What are you doing here, Ivan?”

His reply is ominous. “I told you. Darren’s looking for you. Sent men to kidnap you.”

“That SUV was yours, wasn’t it? The one across the street.”

“You noticed?”

His fingers close around my wrist.

Not rough. Not hard.

Just enough to make me feel the weight of his touch.

“Why does he want me?”

“He knows what you stole from him and he wants it back.” His grip tightens. “But I don’t like to share.”

I clear my throat, force myself to focus. Not on his scent—leather, smoke, something darker underneath. Not on the way his shirt hangs open, revealing hard muscle and fresh bandages.

He clicks his fingers in front of my eyes, drawing my attention back to his face. “Listen. I need you to go home and pack.”

I freeze.

The air thickens.

My stomach twists. “Is that a request?”

His gaze is steady. Too steady.

“No.”

“I can’t just leave,” I snap. “I have a job. I’ll be fired.”

Ivan doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t argue.

Instead, he turns, walks past me, and heads straight for Emilio.

I go still.

A strange, twisting kind of panic grips my chest. Not fear. Something worse.

I watch—helpless, stunned—as my boss pales instantly.

And then—Emilio nods.

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

The shift happens so fast, so easily, that I can’t breathe.

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