Page 62 of Obsessed Bratva King

Dr. Roth watches him for a long moment, then smirks. "Who’d turn up this late at night to solve all your problems?"

He turns to Ivan, looking him over before stitching him back together.

He shoves his medical bag shut twenty minutes later. "That’ll be ten grand."

I blink. "Seriously?"

He winks at me. "You’re getting the friends and family discount. Normally, I charge double for working this late."

Ivan doesn’t even flinch. He pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket and tosses it onto the table. The money barely lands before he turns back to me, his full attention locking onto me like I’m the only thing in the room.

And then—before I can process it—he bends down and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I forget how to breathe.

Before I can say anything, Dr. Roth mutters, "Yeah, yeah. Love is grand. Now, if we’re done with the brooding declarations, I have a poker game to get to. Goodnight gentlemen."

Ivan doesn’t even acknowledge him. He’s still looking at me, still waiting for something.

I finally exhale and nod. "Okay."

His fingers brush against mine before he pulls away, his warmth disappearing. “What now?” I ask.

Maxim pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and hands it to Ivan.

"This is the address of our best tech guy," he says. "Waiting for us to bring the flash drive.”

Ivan nods my way. “You ready?”

I nod back. “Let’s go.”

16

IVAN

Wires snake across the floor, screens stacked on top of each other, blinking like an airport runway at night. A half-eaten sandwich sits next to a motherboard, the crumbs blending in with the dust.

Maxim and I sit as Vika works. The girl is a mess—chipped nail polish, a screwdriver tucked behind her ear, frayed hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her fingers fly over the keyboard, her eyes darting between screens filled with scrolling code.

This isn’t my world. The mess, the technology, the insanity of trusting an outsider. But it doesn’t matter. I need answers and, according to Maxim, she’s the best.

More importantly—I need to end this.

Cora is sleeping in the next room. Safe. For now. I made sure she was comfortable before letting Maxim drag me in here. I didn’t want to leave her. I still don’t. But this is necessary.

She deserves peace. And the only way to give her that is by killing Darren. To do that, I’ll put up with any amount of mess.

Vika mutters something under her breath, snapping me back to the moment.

“How’s it going?” I ask.

“Initializing tracker nullification protocol,” she mutters, eyes locked on the interface. “I’ve got the signal refracting through a multi-node spoofing array with recursive packet loopbacks—should hold while I reconfigure.”

“In English?”

“Stopping Darren from tracking you down.”

I cross my arms, my gaze fixed on the screens. "How long before he locks onto the signal?"

---