Page 32 of Escaping the Bratva

“I’m clean,” I say roughly. I didn’t even have a drug charge. He looks like he doesn’t believe me but hands me the cup anyways.

“Asshole,” I mumble before stepping into the bathroom. I can’t even close the door because this fuck face has to stand there and watch me piss like some sick kidnapper. Three years and then I’m off probation. Three long years of weekly meetings with Carson. The judge could have assigned me monthly meetings, but no, that would be too easy.

“I don’t have all day,” Carson barks, and I want to slam my fist into his face. It’s times like this when I miss having my own empire and an army of men under me. No one would be able to talk to me like that and live. But I’d give it all up again for a chance to be with Sasha.

I piss and leave the cup on the sink for Carson before going back into his office and taking a seat while he performs the test. A few minutes later Carson sits across from me.

“You're clean,” he says.

“Always been clean.” I’ve never touched a drug in my life.

“That’s what they all say. I see you recently moved to your own place. Usually when people first get out, we like them to live with family or in a group home environment so that they’re supported.”

I want to laugh, but I hold it in. “I do better on my own.”

He searches my face, as if trying to get a read on me before leaning back in his chair.

“How’s the business going?”

“We launch next week.”

“Any new people in your life?”

“Nope.”

“Anything I need to know about?”

“No.”

With a sigh, he leans forward and signs my paper as proof that I came in and met with him. He hands it over to me.

“Next week. Same time.”

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