Page 94 of Obsessed Bratva King

“Come here, printsessa.”

His fingers are warm, strong despite the pain radiating from his body.

I can’t stop staring at him. At the bruises, the bandages, the paleness of his skin.

A single tear slips down my cheek.

He notices. Of course.

His hand moves, his knuckles grazing my skin as he cups my face, thumb brushing away the tear before it has a chance to fall.

“You scared me,” I whisper.

His lips curve slightly, a ghost of a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You scare me every damn day.”

“Me? How?”

“I’m scared I might lose you.” His voice is low, rough.

I stare at him, feeling the weight of those words settle over me, sinking into my bones.

Across the room, Dmitri clears his throat.

“So,” he says, shifting slightly, hands in his pockets. “About Chicago? You turning down an entire city?”

Ivan doesn’t even look at him.

He doesn’t look away from me.

His fingers remain around mine, keeping me from slipping into doubt, into disbelief. “I already have everything I could ever want.”

A slow smirk curves Maxim’s lips as he leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Love has made you soft,” he muses, eyes glittering with something almost entertained. “You’re no good to us soft.”

Ivan finally looks at him, and the air shifts, going sharp and dangerous. His cold blue eyes flicker with something lethal, something terrifyingly controlled.

“Try me,” he says. His voice is quiet, smooth—deadly. “I could kill you with one finger.”

Maxim chuckles, unshaken. “Lucky for me,” he drawls, glancing at our joined hands, “your fingers seem a little occupied.”

Ivan doesn’t dignify that with a response.

Neither do I.

Because I don’t care about Chicago anymore.

I don’t care about Maxim’s teasing or Dmitri’s quiet amusement.

I care about one thing.

He’s not leaving.

I exhale, my lungs finally unlocking, my entire body uncoiling from the knot it’s been twisted into since the moment they started talking about Chicago.

He chose me.

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