Page 96 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
And that’s when I hear abang. It’s explosive. It shakes the walls.
I jerk upright, slamming the fridge door shut—and the sound that follows is worse. The front door detonates, a fiery burst of wood and smoke sending pieces flying in every direction.
“What the—!”
I don’t even get to scream. Masked men pour into the apartment, guns drawn, dressed in black, their footsteps thundering against the hardwood.
I stumble backward, heart racing, adrenaline flooding my veins. I try to run, but something—someone—grabs me from behind. A sharp crack against the side of my skull sends stars exploding across my vision.
The world spins violently. And then—darkness.
Chapter 24 – Kaz
I’m lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, doing the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to do before—regret.
The room feels emptier without her. Too big. Too cold. Like the walls themselves know she’s gone. Her scent still lingers in the sheets, soft and stubborn, clinging to the pillows where she used to rest her head.
I should’ve fought harder.
I should’ve begged if I had to.
Instead, I let her walk out the door.
I told myself I was doing the right thing—letting her go, giving her space, showing her I wasn’t the monster she feared. But now, alone in this silence, it doesn’t feel noble. It feels cowardly. It feels like I took the easy way out.
I see her face every time I blink—wet eyes, trembling lips, her voice shaking when she asked me, “What did I ever do to you?”
And I remember the way she looked at me after I told her she was free to go—like I’d just proven everything she feared about me was true.
God.
I sit up, elbows on my knees, dragging my hands down my face.
I should have held her. Kissed her. Told her again and again that I loved her. That everything I did—all the blood on my hands—was because I didn’t know any other way to keep her safe.
I thought letting her go would prove I loved her.
Now all I can think is—
What if I never see her again?
What if I made the biggest mistake of my life?
My phone rings. When I see it’s Maxim, I sit up and take the call. “Yes?”
His voice is sharp, urgent. “I dropped Violet off and was on my way back. Then I heard an explosion that rocked the whole street. I turned around and it was her apartment—”
My blood runs cold.
“What?” I’m already up, already running toward the bedroom door, my heart thundering in my chest.
Maxim isn’t done. “When I got out of the car, someone almost ran me over. I tried to turn—Hurry. I don’t know what—shit—”
The line goes dead.
“Maxim? Maxim!”
No answer.
