Page 98 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
“Kaz,” Maxim’s voice croaks behind me. I turn. He’s holding his side, blood seeping through his shirt, but he’s still standing. Still breathing. “We’ll find her.”
I walk to him, my jaw clenched, and sling his arm over my shoulder.
“We better,” I growl.
I help him to the car, each step igniting more fury, more purpose. The kind of fury that fuels a massacre. The kind of purpose that doesn’t stop until the world burns.
We drive off, the fire in the rearview mirror dimming as something far darker begins to rise in my chest.
They took her. But they have no idea what that cost them.
By the time we pull up to the estate, my knuckles are white around the steering wheel, the charm of Violet’s necklace still clenched in my fist like a vow.
As soon as I kill the engine, I throw the door open.
“Call the doctor,” I tell Maxim sharply. “Get the graze checked and treated.”
He doesn’t argue—just nods and limps off toward the house.
I don’t wait.
I head straight to my study, the walls closing in around me with every step. The second I get inside, I slam the door, yank my phone out, and dial Niko. He picks up on the first ring.
“I need you to hurt them,” I say, voice low and lethal.
A pause. “Who?”
“Arina,” I snap. “Violet’s been kidnapped.”
There’s silence on the other end. Then Niko exhales slowly. “Shit.”
“I want answers. And I want Arina to feel it. No sleep. No food. No air. I want hell, Niko. Torture them until they confess. Until they beg to tell me where they’ve taken Violet.”
“Understood,” he says, grim. Then the line goes dead
Mindless with frustration, I take it out on my office. Moments later, the study is a mess—papers strewn, a lamp broken, my fists bleeding from punching the wall. My breaths are ragged, uneven, the room spinning around me. I don’t even hear the door open until I hear a voice behind me.
“Boss?”
I whirl, chest heaving, eyes wild. Milos.
I blink. “I thought you were still at the hospital.”
“I returned today. I saw Maxim outside. He told me what happened with Violet.”
Just hearing her name in someone else’s mouth makes the blood roar in my ears again. I turn away, clenching my jaw, breathing hard. The necklace in my pocket feels like it’s burning through my skin.
Milos steps further into the room, slowly. “I have some information,” he says. “Something I meant to share earlier—that night I was released, but you were…understandably in a rush.”
I face him fully now, something like guilt surfacing beneath my fury. “Milos—about everything—” I swallow, jaw tightening. “I knew you weren’t the traitor. Not truly. But I had to put on a show. Draw the real rat out.”
He studies me for a beat, then nods once. “I figured as much,” he says quietly. “If you truly believed I was the traitor, I’d be dead already.”
I exhale, long and shaky.
He nods again. “I’m still here. That’s what matters.”
I drop into the nearest chair, exhaustion and adrenaline crashing together. “What do you have?”
