Page 73 of Bratva's Intern

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to stay even. “Right. Good to know. I’m only staying here so I can check up on him throughout the night.”

“Are you sure you still want to stay?”

I hesitated for maybe a second—a second too long—but then I straightened my spine. “Yeah.”

Nik nodded slowly, then clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll drop by at six-ish to pick you up. Hopefully, it’s early enough so Maxim won’t know you spent the night here.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I live close by.”

“Oh. Umm, good night, then.”

“Night, Wren. Good luck.”

I stood there, staring after him, his words lingering in the air.

Good luck.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MAXIM

Something was off.

The shift was subtle, but it was enough to pull me from my sleep. My eyes fluttered open to darkness, chased only by the moonlight that shined through the curtains. A muted hum of awareness settled in my bones—different from the sluggishness I’d felt earlier.

The seizure had wrecked me. I remembered that much. A strange one, unexpected. I hadn’t had one in a long time, and it left my body useless, my mind thick with exhaustion. Sleep had come fast and heavy, dragging me under before I could even think.

Now my limbs felt solid. Steady. Better.

Another sound filtered through to the closed door that led to the bathroom. Was someone in the bathroom? Impossible. I lived alone. I didn’t even allow my bodyguards to stay the night.

The security features of my home were state of the artand made my house one of the few places I could truly be alone. No one else was supposed to be here.

A slow breath filled my lungs as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, testing my balance. Good. No dizziness. No trembling. Whatever that seizure had done to me, at least I wasn’t still feeling the worst possible effects.

I didn’t recall undressing, but I was down to only my underwear. Barefoot, I walked toward the bathroom door. If someone was inside, they hadn’t turned on the light. Not a flicker bled through the crack beneath the door.

I grabbed the doorknob. The metal was cool beneath my fingertips. My breath hitched in my throat as I nudged the door open with a slow, deliberate push, half expecting someone to pounce on me.

But there was nothing except for a light trickling sound. I felt over the wall until I located the switch and flicked it on, the sudden brightness momentarily blinding me.

“Arghh!”

I froze.

Wren?

Squinting against the harsh glare of the light, I made out a Wren-sized shape, draped in my Egyptian cotton sheet, sitting on the toilet. He yanked the sheet over his head, blocking out the bright light. I turned the switch, lowering the intensity.

“Wren, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a piss.”

“In my toilet?”

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