Page 73 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
I brush a strand of hair from her face, fingers grazing the soft heat of her skin. She looks so small in this bed. Small and breakable. And yet, somehow, she’s withstood more than most soldiers I’ve known.
Violet.
Mine.
She’s mine now. For good.
I lean back against the headboard, eyes on the shadows dancing across the ceiling as the weight of everything presses in again.
Milo. The bounty. The betrayals.
It has to end.
The sooner I finish this war, the sooner I can take her to a doctor. Get her checked. Make sure everything is okay—with her, with the baby.
Our baby.
I still don’t know what it means to be someone’s father, but I know I’m willing to try. I’ll do everything in my power to be a father worthy of the title.
She was right. About all of it.
This world I’ve built—this violent, blood-soaked empire—it was never made for someone like her. And now she’s carrying something so pure, something that shouldn’t be touched by any of it.
She doesn’t want to raise a child like this. In fear. In violence. In hiding.
And I don’t want that either.
I want to give her more. I want to give them more.
I want to grow old with her. See her laugh in the sunlight. Watch our child take their first steps—hear them call me Papa in that clumsy baby voice. And if Violet is willing, if she wants more children, I’ll give her a house full of them. A future that doesn’t include bloodshed. Just love. And peace.
I press my lips to her forehead and close my eyes.
“Someday,” I whisper to myself.
I wait until I’m sure she’s asleep—deep enough not to stir if I shift away. Then I ease myself off the bed, careful not to wake her. She makes a soft sound, a breathy sigh, and curls deeper into the pillow.
I brush my fingers over her arm and step back. One last look. One last breath.
Then I turn and walk out of the room.
The door clicks shut behind me. I head straight for the office. There’s still a war to end.
As soon as I get into the office, I close the door behind me and lock it.
Then I reach into my pocket and pull it out—the burner phone.
The same one I saw with Violet earlier. The one she said Arina gave her. The one that only lets her send messages out…but blocks anything coming back.
I roll it in my palm, turning it over, every muscle in my jaw tightening. Something about this doesn’t sit right. I don’t jump to conclusions. Arina has always had my back. But even with the people you trust, there’s always room for curiosity. For questions.
Maybe Arina thought they were helping. Maybe it was just a precaution. Or maybe it was something else entirely. I don’t know.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and sit down behind the desk, grabbing the landline and dialing Maxim’s secure line. It rings once before he picks up.
“Boss.”
“Is everything sorted at the estate?” I ask without preamble, still staring at the burner phone on the desk.
