Page 75 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
Leaning in, I press a kiss to her cheek—light and lingering. She stirs a little but doesn’t open her eyes.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper. “I swear it.”
Then I walk out of the room and close the door behind me. I head for the garage. The air feels heavier now, like everything is on the edge of snapping. Arina is already waiting, behind the wheel of the black SUV. Their eyes meet mine, but I don’t say a word. Neither do they.
I get in the backseat, and the car pulls out.
The ride to the estate is silent. Just the hum of the engine and the storm building in my chest.
When we pull into the estate gates, Maxim is already outside, arms crossed, posture rigid.
He doesn’t speak, just nods once and turns on his heel. We follow him into the house. Downstairs. Into the cold, reinforced basement. The light buzzes overhead. The air smells like blood and concrete.
Milos is there—tied to a metal chair, ankles and wrists secured. He’s bloodied but awake. His head lifts when we enter, and his eyes lock on mine.
I stare at him like I’m trying to understand how the hell it’s come to this.
The man I trusted with everything.
Maxim steps aside. “He’s been quiet. Thought it best you do the talking.”
I step forward, slow and deliberate, until I’m right in front of Milos.
He doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
“You’ve got one chance,” I say quietly. “One shot to tell me the truth. Make it count.”
“I don’t know what the hell you think I did,” he says. “But it’s not true. I’ve served you for as long as I can remember. And this”—his voice cracks—“this is how it ends? With accusations and no proof?”
My jaw ticks. He looks at Maxim. “You know me. You really believe I’d sell us out?”
Maxim’s face is stone.
Then Milos turns to me again. “Boss? After everything—after I’ve stood by you in every war, every bloodbath—you think I’d betray you like this?”
I’m not in the mood for emotional manipulation.
I glance at Maxim. “Untie him.”
Maxim walks over and cuts the ropes binding Milos’s wrists and ankles. Milos rubs his wrists, wincing, and slowly stands, bloodied but proud.
“You want to beat me? Kill me?” Milos says, lifting his chin. “Do it. But know this—I did nothing. And whatever hell you put me through, I’ll take it. But I won’t lie to save myself. I didn’t betray you.”
I look him in the eye. And then I strike. I don’t warn him. My fist slams into his jaw, sending him crashing back against the wall.
He groans but doesn’t fight back. He just spits blood on the floor and looks at me again with defiance. “Go on, Kaz. Do your worst. But when you’re done, you’ll have to live with the truth.”
My fist crashes into Milos’s face over and over—bone meeting bone, skin splitting under my knuckles, the sickening crunch of cartilage echoing off the stone walls. Blood sprays from his mouth as he collapses against the chains behind him.
He doesn’t scream. He grunts. He bleeds. He takes it.
“Tell me the fucking truth!” I roar, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the concrete again. “You leaked her location. You sold us out. Admit it!”
“I didn’t,” he rasps, breath wheezing, blood running from his nose. “Boss…I swear to you, on my life…I didn’t do it.”
My boot drives into his ribs. He curls inward with a groan, but doesn’t break.
