Page 54 of Bratva Bidder
But I know better.
That snake wouldn’t give me the truth even if it bled from his gums. And worse, if he doesn’t know she’s gone yet, I’m not about to tip him off.
Lev shifts beside me, still holding her shoe in his lap like some kind of token. “You want to go looking for her?” he asks, voice low.
I don’t answer right away.
My jaw clenches. My throat’s dry.
I can’t shake the image of her sneaking out for someone else.
Finally, I murmur, “I don’t know.”
Lev gives me a look, that sideways glance he only pulls when he thinks I’ve lost my mind, but he doesn’t argue.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
He sighs under his breath, tosses the heel onto the dash, and turns toward the car.
We ride in silence. City lights flicker past the tinted windows. My phone sits dead in my hand. Still nothing from her. No answers. No explanations.
Just silence.
Lev doesn’t speak. He knows me well enough by now. He can see the war happening behind my eyes even if I don’t say a word.
I stare out the window, watching the city move. Lights blur. Neon signs blink like they’re trying to spell out answers I don’t have. Somewhere out there, she’s moving too.
Nadya.
I shouldn’t care this much. I barely know her.
She was part of a transaction. A means to an end. I thought she was starting to trust me. But trust…trust is dangerous. It’s the lie we tell ourselves so we can sleep at night. It’s the thing people sell in exchange for power. For safety. For survival.
My father taught me that trust is for men too weak to control the world around them. And he was always right about one thing—when you start to trust someone, that’s when they destroy you.
13
NADYA
The estate is silent.The lights in the foyer have been dimmed to a soft golden haze, casting long shadows over the marble floor. My dress is torn in two places, and I’m so bone-deep tired I can barely think straight.
Nikolai is stable.
Mila is safe.
But I’m still unraveling.
I close the door behind me as quietly as I can and move through the house like a ghost.
It’s well past midnight. Closer to one, maybe later. I didn’t check. My mind has been underwater since the hospital. I let the driver go a block before the gate. Walked the rest of the way barefoot, feet blistered and raw. The dress is ruined. Hair wild. Makeup smeared from tears I didn’t let anyone see.
I just want to make it to my room. Just want five hours of sleep and no questions.
I push the door open as quietly as I can, slip inside, relieved.
A voice cuts through the dark. “You’re late.”
I stop breathing.
