Page 81 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
I nod and open it for him. “Password’s the same.”
He smirks. “You never change.”
He plugs the burner into a USB port, installing a few programs. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he drags open folders and runs traces. The screen reflects sharp blue light against his focused eyes.
“Give me a second.”
The interface lights up. Logs begin to scroll down the screen. A red line of code flashes at the bottom. Niko’s brow furrows.
“Bingo,” he says.
I lean over him.
“What am I looking at?”
“Hidden uplink. This phone’s not just a burner. It was set to send out a location ping every twelve hours—straight to a number cloaked behind serious encryption.”
I go completely still. “You’re saying it was tracking Violet?”
“Yeah.” He clicks into the logs. “Since the moment it was powered on, it’s been updating someone with its coordinates.Whoever’s on the other end has real cover. Layers of VPNs. Military-grade redirections. But it’s consistent.”
My blood turns cold. My heart? Pure fire.
“She’s had this phone on her since day one.”
Niko nods grimly. “And someone’s been watching her every goddamn step.”
Silence crushes the room for a long second. And then I snap.
I slam my fist into the desk, rattling the laptop. I knock over the lamp and send the chair flying with a kick so hard it cracks against the bookshelf.
“She was in my bed, in my arms, under my roof—and they knew. They fucking knew.”
I’m shaking, jaw locked, chest heaving. “They could’ve taken her at any moment. They could’ve killed her.”
“Kaz—” Niko starts.
“She’s pregnant, Niko. She’s carrying my baby.” I’m on the edge. One more second and I’m throwing my fucking self at the wall.
But Niko grabs my arm, hard and grounding. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do. His gaze is clear and cutting, like he’s trying to punch the rage out of me with just his eyes. “You need to get your shit together. For Violet. For your baby.”
My chest is heaving. My fists are clenched. But his words hit me where they’re supposed to.
I close my eyes. Breathe.
He lets go of my arm but doesn’t step back. “Tell me everything. The phone we found in that tote earlier is exactly like this one. What’s up with that?”
I drag a hand over my jaw. “It was Arina who gave the phone to Violet.”
His brow lifts slightly.
I press on. “And the tote bag the phone was in—bright fucking colors. Neon blue, hot pink, animated patterns stitched into the side. That’s Arina’s vibe to the bone. Nobody else in the Bratva dresses like that.”
Niko doesn’t say anything. He’s listening.
“They gave the phone. They own the bag. And they didn’t even blink when I was beating the hell out of Milos. Not a flinch. Like they knew he wasn’t guilty. Like they were watching a show they planned the script for.”
