Page 26 of Bratva's Intern

“Why not? Who wouldn’t want to live forever?”

“I think we cherish the things and the people we do now because we’re aware of how precious life is. Take that away, and the world would be a more savage place.”

“Oh.”

His smile dimmed, his dark eyes distant as he mulled over my words. I’d ruined his fantasy. Taken his impossible dream and shattered it with harsh truths of human nature. But that was the world I lived in, one touched by savagery and the unending dance of power play.

“Sir, we’re here.”

The driver’s curt announcement jolted Wren out of his quiet contemplation. The car hummed to a halt outside a huge, austere building, the kind that had once been well kept but had started showing its age over time. The paint around the window frames was chipping, and the front door bore a few scuff marks from years of use.

Not the worst I had seen. But not good enough for him.

The driver put the car in Park, and before Wren could protest, I opened my door and stepped out. He followed slowly. I stood beside him, my gaze flickering briefly over the building again.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, his voice careful. He was hanging on to his bag for dear life. “I can take it from here.”

“I’ll walk you up.”

He blinked. “That’s not necessary.”

I didn’t answer.Instead, I turned to Darius and Nik. “Wait here.”

Darius shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have strict instructions from Sergei not to let you out of our sight.”

I opened my mouth to ask him who paid their salary. Sergei was sure as hell not the one who signed their checks.

“They’re right.” Wren peered around us as if he expected the man with the knife to be lurking around us. “You should get back in the car and go. I’m already home. You don’t have to be nice to me now because?—”

“The longer we stand here, the more danger I am in. Shall we go up to your apartment?”

It worked like a charm. For some reason, he didn’t like the idea of me getting hurt. Was Archie’s theory right that he would have done it for anyone?

“Okay, let’s go quickly.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with him, his strides quick and erratic. I couldn’t stop staring at where he held on to me. My skin tingled where we touched, a surprising warmth radiating from his grip. I wasn’t touch-starved in the least. My sex drive was higher than normal, and I didn’t deprive myself of the pleasures of the flesh. Just two nights ago, I’d had a threesome.

Still, his touch felt different, innocent.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WREN

Istopped in front of my apartment door, pulse kicking up as I turned to face the man who had no business being here. “This is it.”

Maxim Morozov didn’t move.

He stood at my side, a looming, immovable force in his pristine three-piece suit, as if the mere idea of leaving was inconceivable. Behind him, his bodyguards hovered like twin shadows, their unreadable stares pressing down on me.

This was ridiculous.

Annoyance curled through my gut. The weight of their collective presence clogged the air in the lit hallway. I lived in an average apartment with average people. Bodyguards weren’t a part of the decor.

“This is my apartment.” I gestured vaguely at the door behind me, my voice edged with impatience. “You should go back to your car now. No need to worry about me because of earlier. I’m fine.”

Nothing.

No parting words, no dismissive nod. Just silence.

A flicker of something—amusement—passed through Mr. Morozov’s frosty eyes. My stomach dropped. He was enjoying this.

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