Page 50 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
I left Feliks standing in the garden, a cold promise of revenge hanging between us. The anger was a fire in my blood, a raw fury I hadn’t felt since my father’s death. But it was a controlled fury now. I wasn’t going to let it consume me. Mymind was strategizing. Feliks thought he was so clever, so sly. He had no idea what was coming.
I walked back to the estate, my thoughts consumed by the betrayal. The years of loyalty, the trust my father had put in him, were all a lie. And Katria—she was a part of it now. A pawn in a game she didn’t even know she was playing.
I found her in the living room, fast asleep on the sofa. She was curled into a small ball, her hair a wild halo around her face. My anger melted into a sharp, possessive ache in my chest. She was so damn fragile, so breakable. And completely unaware of the dangers she had just walked into.
My eyes fell on her lap. My breath caught in my throat. Ticked into the side of her jeans, resting in her lap, was a loaded pistol.
I stared at it, a mix of shock and pure exasperation rushing through me. Where in the hell did she get that? I knew exactly who had given it to her: Sava. That damn fool. I knew he was close to her, but this? This was a line. A line I’d have to draw for him later.
A small, humorless chuckle escaped my lips. She was absurd. She was a little mouse with a loaded gun, and she was going to get herself killed. I walked to the sofa and stood over her, looking at her sleeping face. She looked peaceful, so innocent. So different from the fiery, defiant woman who had challenged me hours ago.
I reached out and gently removed the pistol from her lap, taking care not to wake her. It was a small, heavy thing in my hand, a useless toy. I placed it on the coffee table.
I took the blanket from the back of the sofa and covered her, tucking it gently around her shoulders. She shifted in her sleep, a small, quiet sigh escaping her lips. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, a soft, deliberate touch.
“You’ll never leave me, Katria,” I whispered, my voice a low, possessive murmur. “And you will always be mine.”
I stood up and moved to my study. The thumb drive was still in my pocket—the physical proof of Feliks’s betrayal. I took it out and headed to the hidden drawer in my closet. It was a small, unassuming item, a key to a much bigger game. I placed it inside and locked the drawer with a key I always kept on me. The thumb drive was a new kind of power. A new kind of leverage. A way to control the game. And now, I had it.
Chapter 15 – Kat
The first thing I felt was the ache in my body. Every muscle felt stiff and sore, a brutal reminder of the previous night’s punishment. I lay on the couch, the blanket Danil had covered me with a foreign comfort. My mind went back to the raw humiliation of it all, the sobs I couldn’t stop, the words I was forced to say. The anger I felt was a cold, hard lump in my chest.
A soft knock on the doorframe of the living room pulled me from my thoughts. A maid came in, her eyes carefully averted from me. She placed a small, neatly folded note on the coffee table beside me, curtsied, and left. The note was from Danil.
My heart pounded, a sudden, frantic rhythm. I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t want to see his words, to hear his voice, to be reminded of what he had done. I almost tore it up. But the thought of him, calm and cold, waiting for me to break, stopped me. He stopped me. He expected me to hide in this room, to lick my wounds. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.
I opened the note. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, just like him. It mentioned a midday brunch on the rooftop gardens and was signed by Danil. He was asking me to show up as soon as I woke up. I scoffed. He was acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just broken me.
I almost decided not to go. But then I thought of Feliks. I thought of the video. The man who had been so charming and friendly at the party, the man who my father had accused of money laundering. I needed to see him again, to look at him with this new information in my mind. Maybe I would finally understand what had felt so off about him. This brunch would be a chance to observe him. To learn. And besides, Marielle might be there, a friendly face in a sea of enemies.
With a newfound purpose, I got up, my body still protesting with every step. I went to my room and then to mycloset, where I pulled out a simple, elegant pastel blue dress. It was a complete contrast to the pink silk I had worn at the last party, and that was the point. I was not a target today. I was a weapon. I was calm. I was collected.
I put on a pair of flats. My legs were too sore for heels, and I had no intention of falling in front of anyone. I fixed my hair and my makeup, making sure I looked perfect. I was not broken. I was not yet defeated.
I left the suite, my body still humming with pain, and went to the elevator. I got out on the top floor and stepped into the rooftop garden. The first thing that first hit me was the light. It was a beautiful day, with the sun warm on my skin and the breeze gentle. The garden was breathtaking, with lush greenery and colorful flowers. I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t come out here before.
My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Feliks, for Marielle, but they landed on the scene that made my blood run cold.
I saw them instantly. Irene in a sleek, elegant slip dress, sitting beside Danil. He was in a simple black polo shirt, a stark contrast to his simple west last night. They were laughing, holding flutes of orange cocktails. Her hand was resting on his shoulder, her thumb gently stroking the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t playful; it was intimate. It was a clear statement.
My breath hitched. The pain in my body, the humiliation from Feliks’s party—it all came roaring back, fueled by a sharp, furious jealousy that felt like a physical blow. I froze. My anger skyrocketed.
Marielle’s voice cut through the fog of my rage.
“Kat! There you are!” She came toward me, her arms open for a hug, but I barely registered her.
“I can’t,” I mumbled, my eyes locked on the two of them.
Marielle followed my gaze, and her expression immediately shifted.
“Oh,” she said and took my arm, her voice low. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink or some food. They’re just talking.”
“Just talking?” I scoffed, the word a bitter taste in my mouth. “She has her hand on his shoulder. He’s laughing. They look like they’re having a private joke.”
Marielle squeezed my arms gently. “Kat, it’s just Irene. She’s been a family friend for a long time. They’re probably just catching up.”
“She’s a family friend who tried to insult me at the last party,” I snapped, pulling my arm from her grasp. “She’s trying to get under my skin. And he’s letting her.”
