Page 85 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

NIKOLAI

“Who the hell did that?” Arslan asks.

The lights in the hallway just flashed on and then off again. We’re supposed to be the only two people on the entire floor. Two of the only people in the building.

I stand up and stomp across my office. “I don’t know. But I think I have a pretty good fucking guess.”

I step into the hallway and look both ways. It’s seemingly empty, but I can feel we aren’t alone.

The tingling in my chest is a sensor drawing me closer and closer.To her.

Because of course it is her. It is always her. Listening when she shouldn’t be, lurking outside of my office, stealing my car, following me through the restaurant kitchen while I’m trying to commit a murder.

Belle Dowan does not know when to give it a goddamn rest.

“Come out, Belle,” I call, my voice echoing down the long hallway. “You don’t have to hide.”

“Belle?” Arslan hisses behind me. “I don’t know, man. This could be Giorgos. Any of the Greeks. We just left a dead man on his doorstep, so—”

“Enough,” I hiss. Arslan shifted into Russian, but I have a feeling that doesn’t matter with Belle.

The littlekiskaknows more than she’s let on.

We both stop moving and hold our breath. The silence around us seems to amplify. Every creak of the building, every buzzing electronic, every thump of my heart. It all feels impossibly loud.

And then a door squeaks.

I spin around. Belle’s frightened face stares at me through the gap. As soon as our eyes meet, she takes off running.

“Belle!” I roar after her, but she doesn’t slow down.

She’s heading for the staircase. I give chase.

“I’ll cut her off,” Arslan yells, heading the other direction. No matter what happens, she won’t get out of this building. Not until I’m ready for her to leave.

That is, if I let her leave at all.

Belle rips open the door to the stairwell and disappears. I lower my head and book it.

As soon as I’m in the stairwell, I can hear her footfalls on the steps. Frantic, fearful. I’m only half a floor behind her now. Every time I round a turn, I see her auburn hair dancing behind her.

Then I hear a shriek, followed by low thumps and grunts.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Belle?”

I round the next corner and see her sprawled out at the base of the stairs. Her hair is fanned out like flames, her right leg bent awkwardly beneath her.

I take the stairs two at a time and drop down next to her. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” she growls. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

I roll my eyes. “Still too stubborn for your own good. I guess that means it isn’t a head injury.”

“Let me go,” she says again, trying to crawl away from me. Her ankle is already starting to swell and purple. “I didn’t hear anything.”

I snort. That guarantees she definitely did hear something. “Come with me.”

I reach for her arm, but Belle swings at me. Her fist barely misses my nose.

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