Page 51 of Obsessed Bratva King

They shove me down, my back hitting something cold. A sharp tug—ropes tightening around my wrists, my ankles.

I suck in a breath, blinking against the pain, against the rage.

I will not break.

Darren leans over me.

And smiles.

"You’ll talk," he murmurs. “Or you’ll die.”

Every inch of my body aches. My ribs scream with every shallow breath, my wrists burn from the rough ropes binding them, but I don’t let myself focus on it.

I can’t afford to.

Not with him standing over me.

Darren is poised, composed, the picture of control. His coat is still pristine, his gloves smooth and unblemished, as if he wasn’t the one who ordered the attack, as if he wasn’t the one who stood there, watching as his men beat me into submission.

He lifts a single gloved hand and taps his finger against the metal surface of the table I’m bound to.

"You have something I want, little thief," he says smoothly, voice almost bored.

Little thief.

The nickname twists in my stomach.

"I’ll make this simple for you," he continues, cocking his head slightly, as if he’s being generous. "Hand over the flash drive, or Ivan dies in front of you."

My stomach clenches.

I keep my face blank, refusing to let him see the fear threatening to unravel me from the inside out.

I don’t answer.

Darren’s eyes flicker with amusement. He’s enjoying this. “You think he might already be dead.” He shakes his head. “Where would be the fun in that?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

The second he flicks his fingers across the screen, I know.

I know before I even see it.

But when the screen glows to life, it still feels like a fist around my throat.

Ivan.

Tied to a chair.

Blood streaks down the side of his face, staining his collar, a deep crimson contrast against the pale blue light of the screen. His hands are bound, his shoulders slumped, his head hanging forward like his body is too heavy to hold up anymore.

But he’s breathing.

Barely.

My pulse stutters.

Darren watches me carefully, measuring. His gaze flicks between me and the screen, his smirk deepening like he’s savoring every second of my pain.

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