Page 29 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

I press my lips together, my mind working overtime. “I think I already know who it could be.”

Their eyes snap to me, a mix of surprise and anticipation in their gazes. Ivan straightens up, his hand pausing in his search. “Oh? And who could that be?”

Chapter 12

Maxym

I narrow my eyes, processing Sofia’s accusation. “Kayla?” The name rolls off my tongue with disbelief. She’s the least likely to betray us, or so I’d thought.

Ivan shifts uncomfortably on the bed next to Sofia. His face is a mask of confusion, mirroring my own feelings. Kayla, with her seemingly sweet disposition, involved in something this treacherous? It’s hard to digest.

Sofia’s voice cuts through the skepticism like a knife. “It’s obviously Kayla. She must have done it out of jealousy.” Her conviction is unnerving.

The room goes still, each of us grappling with the idea. “No way,” I hear myself say, the words automatic. “Kayla wouldn’t do that.” But even as I speak, doubt begins to gnaw at me.

Sofia’s eyes flash with frustration. “Yes. Yes, she would. After you guys fired her like that. She would do anything. I saw it in her eyes.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with implication. The thought we might have underestimated Kayla, that she could harbor such resentment, starts to take root.

Victor, usually so composed, finally breaks the silence. “And why do you think she would do such a thing?”

Sofia’s words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “You replaced her. She was the egg donor. And now, it’s me.”

Viktor starts to object, “But she wouldn’t—”

I cut him off, my voice firm. “She’s right. It’s a possibility. It could be her.” The idea that Kayla could act out of spite isn’t far-fetched. In our world, grudges can lead to drastic actions.

Sofia’s eyes dart around the room, her fear palpable. “What if she comes here?” she whispers, her voice quivering.

Ivan reaches out, his hands gently cupping her face. “You’ll be just fine,” he assures her, “look at all the extra security we’ve got now. We’re not taking any chances.”

His words seem to calm her a bit, but her body is still tense with worry. Ivan continues, “It’s a low possibility. But even if it’s her, she’s never been here before. It’s unlikely she’ll ever find us again.”

A faint blush colors Sofia’s cheeks as she glances at Viktor and me, a mix of relief and uncertainty in her eyes. She mumbles, almost to herself, “O-okay. Now what?”

I watch Sofia closely, gauging her reaction. “Our team is investigating,” I begin, my voice carrying the weight of authority. “They’ve already got one of the shooters alive, so we need to give him some time.”

She looks up, hope mingling with fear in her eyes. “Does that mean...?”

I nod, my expression hardening. “We’ll get information out of him.” I say it matter-of-factly, leaving no room for doubt about what that entails.

Sofia nods in understanding, a visible shiver running through her. She knows all too well that ‘getting information’ is a euphemism for what will undoubtedly be a brutal interrogation.

I watch as she swallows hard, her mind likely imagining the grim scene that will unfold. Despite her fear, she manages to compose herself after a minute or two.

Ivan’s nod is resolute, a silent affirmation of his readiness to do whatever it takes. Sofia’s distress is evident, and I can’tjust stand by. I close the distance between us, my movements deliberate. I assure her, my hand gently caressing her cheek.

“The men are out there trying to get answers from the shooter, right? So, you just need to stay here,” Ivan adds.

Suddenly, Sofia’s arms wrap around me in a tight embrace. I can feel her body trembling, her emotions spilling over. Tears well up in her eyes. I wrap my arms around her, offering her the reassurance she so desperately needs.

I stroke the back of her neck gently, trying my best to help her feel better.

Ivan, sensing the heavy atmosphere, steps in with a lighter tone, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Hey, let’s not forget the good part. We have one of them. That’s a win, right?”

Sofia pulls back slightly, her tears giving way to a faint, appreciative smile. It’s as if Ivan’s words have reminded her that there’s still hope, that not everything is lost in the darkness.

“Yeah, and who knows, maybe that guy will sing like a bird. We could be having a celebration dinner by tomorrow night,” Ivan continues, trying to inject a bit of optimism into the situation.

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