Page 85 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
And that’s it. The last thread holding me together snaps. I don’t even think. I lunge.
Arina flinches back just in time, but I’m faster. My fist connects with their jaw, snapping their head to the side with a sharp crack. They stumble, but I don’t stop. I shove them hard, and they slam into the wall, gasping, blood already blooming from their mouth.
“You betrayed me,” I growl, voice low, brutal. “You put her in danger.”
Arina tries to move past me—tries to bolt for the door—but Maxim steps into their path. He doesn’t raise a hand. Doesn’t shout. Just stands there. His expression says it all. Disappointment. Disgust. Like he can’t even look at them anymore.
Arina stops cold. Breathing hard. A small, panicked sound escapes their throat as they glance between us—trapped.
I close in again.
“You tracked her,” I snarl, grabbing the front of their bloodstained shirt and slamming them against the wall. “You made her feel safe just so you could sell her out.”
“I didn’t know it would go that far—”
“You handed her over to wolves, Arina. You lit the fucking match and then turned your back while the fire spread.”
They try to speak, but I tighten my grip and shove them again. I’m about to swing again—fist cocked, fury boiling—when Violet’s face flashes in my mind. She could wake up any minute and not find me there again. My hand trembles midair, still ready to strike.
No.
I pull back. Barely.
My chest heaves, sweat dripping down my temple as I step away from Arina’s bloodied, broken form on the floor.
“Max,” I bark.
He’s already there. “Yes?”
“Lock them up. Throw them in the isolation cell. Strip them of their tech. Nothing gets in or out.”
Maxim nods stiffly, jaw clenched. I can tell this gutted him, too.
“Then go release Milos.”
He blinks, guilt flashing across his face. “I’m really sorry. I thought it was Milos. I’d never have guessed it was Arina.”
“Apologize to Milos,” I snap at him and turn my attention back to Arina. “Arina will never see daylight again. And when I’m done with them…not even the dark will want them.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I storm out of the room, boots thudding heavily down the hall.
My hands are shaking as I yank open the door to the garage.
I slide behind the wheel of the SUV, shove the key in, and slam the door shut. I have to get back. To her.
Just as I reach for the gear, a voice stops me cold.
“Boss.”
I turn my head.
Milos. Standing just outside the garage entrance, arms at his sides, face swollen and beaten.
I climb out slowly, body tense. He takes a step forward.
“Do you believe me now?”
I stare at him for a long moment. His voice isn’t angry. It’s tired. Honest.
