Page 31 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

He raised a brow and murmured something under his breath along the lines of “…insufferable,” before he said, “Shut the fucking door, will you?”

I obeyed but clutched my bag tightly and looked straight ahead without uttering a word. This same man had whacked someone across the head with a bottle. Arguing with him didn’t sound like the most reasonable thing to do while seated in his car.

We sat in silence until he decided to busy his hands with the wheel, and the car moved out of the curb in a fluid motion.

Eerie silence pressed in, thick and absolute, swallowing even the faintest sound of my breath. The fatigue that had been a constant weight all day, dragging at my limbs, vanished.

Every muscle in my body was tense and on alert.

“I said Axel meant trouble, and I meant it.”

He had spoken so suddenly, I nearly jumped out of my skin, and the deep rumble of his voice forced me to look at him. It appeared that he had more to say, so I didn’t interrupt.

“You don’t have eyes at the back of your head, do you? Doesn’t mean others aren’t watching. He has a reputation with the women, which includes having them whether they like it or not. Do you know what that means, Miss Sinclair?”

Even with his eyes locked in on the road, I still felt his stare burn me somehow, waiting intently for an answer, even though I didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

“No, I don’t.”

“It means he drugged your drink last night. His intentions were…not pure.” I saw a muscle tick in his jaw, and his next words flowed with venom and bitterness too immense to understand. “Men like that—men who feel like they can do whatever they want to women—fucking disgust me. And I won’t just stand by and watch any stupid son of a bitch take advantage of you.”

Bile rose up my throat, and I swallowed down the disgust that churned in my stomach. Distracted by the heart-wrenching news he delivered, I didn’t think to question why he felt the need to care if something happened to me.

The most logical question to have asked myself waswhyI should believe Miron. For all I knew, he could be lying. He might have harbored a malicious intent, or no intent at all, to embarrass Axel. Miron and I were not friends. We barely knew each other. After two—well, three—not-so-pleasant encounters, and he suddenly had my best interests at heart?

That was what my mind said.

My heart, however, begged to differ.

There was that gut instinct that he was telling the truth, and another question sprang up: What did he have to gain by unexpectedly driving all the way down here to lie to me?

He gave a hint last night, didn’t he? He’d obviously known him and said Axel was trouble. I just didn’t know how much trouble.

Oh, God.

I felt sick.

Miron saved me from what could have been the most horrible night of my life, and I’d practically smeared crap on his efforts.

My lungs constricted, and I bit down hard on my lower lip until a warm, metallic taste touched my tongue. This was another moment to swallow my pride and apologize for being wrong.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were trying to help me.”

“I get it,” he said simply. “You were angry.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I still recommend that you find better ways to manage and express your anger, but if I had known why you did it, I wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“You didn’t know. So, it’s fine. I didn’t tell you to evoke an apology.”

Miron’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture eased, and when he looked at me, he didn’t have to say why he’d driven all the way to Prima Care to explain himself.

Last night, I’d outright told him not to stick his nose where it didn’t belong while he was being noble.

Ouch.

“You’re not so big on apologies and mushy moments, are you?”

He shrugged. “No. But that seems like your forte, creating mushy moments. Which made me wonder why you went to The Tavern alone.”

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