Page 4 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
I fumble for the camera to check the images I accidentally took.
Noelle doesn’t hesitate. She gently takes the camera from around my neck and sets it on the coffee table.
“Don’t look at it right now,” she says softly, her fingers wrapping around my cold, trembling hands. “Later, okay? You’re shaking.”
I nod. I’m not even sure I can speak anymore.
“No one followed you,” she adds, squeezing my hands. “I would’ve seen something. I’ve been binge-watching true crime in the living room for hours. It’s quiet outside. You’re safe.”
“But what if they did?” My voice cracks. “What if they followed me home? What if they’re watching? What if that man finds me?”
“Vee.” Her tone sharpens, like a command wrapped in concern. “You’re safe. You didn’t bring anyone here. No one saw you clearly. Okay?”
I nod again, this time slower.
“Then it’s fine. You’ll be fine.” She pulls me into a hug, her arms warm and grounding. “We’ll look at the pictures later. We’ll figure it out. Right now, you need to breathe.”
I close my eyes. Try to force my heart to stop pounding. Try to believe her.
But that man’s icy blue eyes….
They’re still burned into the back of my mind.
“Come on. Let me take you inside.” Noelle gently pulls me up from the couch, her arm firm around my waist, guiding me toward my room like I’m made of spun glass.
I don’t argue. I can’t. My limbs feel heavy, like they’ve been filled with lead, and the fear still hasn’t loosened its grip on my chest.
When we get to my room, she flicks on the bedside lamp and pulls back the covers. I climb in without a word, curling on my side as she tucks the blanket over me.
“You’re okay,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You’re safe now, Vee.”
I don’t answer. I just close my eyes and try to pretend I didn’t see what I saw. Try to pretend that the cold blue eyes from that alley haven’t taken root inside my skull.
Noelle sits beside me for a moment longer, fingers running gently through my hair. She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.
Eventually, she rises and tiptoes out of the room, pulling the door halfway shut behind her.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time, my camera just a room away, the images inside it burned into me even though I haven’t looked at them yet.
But sleep finds me. Uneasy and restless, but still sleep.
A few moments later, I find myself back in the alley. I’m running.
The alley is darker this time. Narrower. The brick walls on either side feel like they’re closing in on me with every step I take. My breath saws in and out of my lungs, and my heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Except the footsteps behind me. Heavy. Measured. Unbothered.
He’s not running—he doesn’t need to. He knows he’ll catch me.
The man with the icy blue eyes.
I risk a glance over my shoulder. He’s there. His face shadowed, but those eyes glow like twin blades under moonlight. Cold. Certain. Like he’s already decided what he’ll do to me when he gets his hands on me.
I scream. No sound comes out.
My car—there it is, parked right where I left it. I lunge for it, yanking at the door handle.
It won’t open.
