Page 13 of Hating the Bratva

Robin: Seriously???

Delaney: I’ll crash with Kevin.

I clench my teeth together as I read that message. Who the fuck is Kevin, and why does she think it’s okay to spend the night with him? I’ll kill him when I get my hands on the kid.

No more playing around. I do a bit more research, and I’m able to get a signal on her phone. She’s near her school at some house. What the hell are you doing, Delaney? But even as I ask myself the question, I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s trying to run. I can’t blame her. I save the address of the house on my phone and get into my car.

It takes nearly forty-five minutes to get there, and my mind has been going through every single scenario the whole time. What if Kevin is one of those high-class frat boys who slips drugs in girls drinks? Maybe Kevin’s a girl, but that’s unlikely. She has to know that someone will find her. Nicolai is usually always watching her, but she must have lost him. That almost makes me smile.

I pull up to a tiny Cape-style house. College kids litter the lawn with red cups clenched in their hands. The homes are pretty spread out here, and I assume that’s the only reason the neighbors haven’t called the cops on a handful of college kids partying at three a.m. on a Monday night. I guess this is what college kids do. I wouldn’t know since I never went. I slam the car into park and get out. The air shifts as I walk across the lawn. I stick out like a sore thumb, and I’m sure the look on my face shows the anger I feel at having to come out here. Deep down, I don’t blame her. Of course she wants to run. She’s marrying Ivan, for fuck’s sake.

I jog up the porch steps and walk through the open door. The music is loud in here, but it looks like the party is quieting down. Most of the people inside are either sitting around, talking, or passed out. A broad guy who barely looks old enough to drink stands up from the couch.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spits, swaying on his feet.

This time I do smile. By the time I was his age, I was helping the Bratva smuggle and sell guns. I’d already taken my first life and had the tattoo of the brotherhood etched across my chest. I wonder if this was Kevin, and the thought alone makes my smile instantly fall.

“Delaney Miller,” I say. Denis made sure to change his family’s last name to something more “American” as soon as he started campaigning for office.

The broad guy crosses his arms over his chest. “She told me someone was looking for her.”

I take a step closer to him, and I can feel everyone in the room tense up. “Yeah? Then where the fuck is she?”

I reach out, intending to grab the front of his shirt and teach this punk a lesson about respect.

“Alek?”

Her soft voice stops me in my tracks. I turn around to see her standing in the middle of the small living room. She’s dressed in tight jeans that hug her curves and a glittery white tank top that shows her cleavage. Her long wavy dark hair is pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. She looks good, not like she’s been out partying for the last couple of days.

“There you are, Bunny.”

She looks around the room. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.

“Came to collect what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours anymore,” she whispers.

I ignore her because she is mine and will always be mine. “We got to go.”

I walk to her and gently grab her arms, but that asshole comes up behind me.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

“Kevin, don’t—”

Ah, so this is Kevin. I reach out like a viper and grab the guy around his neck. A collective gasp falls over our audience.

“Alek!” Delaney shrieks, trying to pull my hand off of him.

“This is the guy you stayed with the other night?” I ask her, my voice calm despite the anger coursing through my blood. Kevin scratches at my arm as his face starts to turn red. He looks strong enough that he could probably break free if he weren’t so drunk.

“Yes, I slept in the guest room! Stop!” she cries, panic coating her voice.

Kevin’s eyes are wide with fear, and it seems like everyone else in the room is holding their breath. I loosen my grip, but I don’t release him. I slam him against the nearby wall before lowering my head to talk in his ear.

“Did you fucking touch her?” I growl.

He shakes his head quickly, but he still isn’t able to talk with my grip around his neck.

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