Page 16 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

"No," I reply, my voice tight with tension. "Keep following. I want to see where she's going." I begin to sprint down the sidewalk, striding towards the valet. All I have to do is shoot a look for the young attendant to scramble to attention, practically tripping over himself to retrieve my keys.

Within minutes, I'm behind the wheel of my sleek black Aston Martin, engine purring as I weave through the dense Las Vegas traffic. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and my jaw is clenched as I navigate the crowded streets—the neon lights of the Strip blur past, a kaleidoscope of color that I barely register.

Gwen thinks she’s going to get away from me.

I’m going to teach her that she’ll never be able to do so.

"Update," I bark into my phone, now on speaker.

Alexei's voice crackles through. "The cab's just turned onto Fremont Street, boss. She's getting out now... wait, she's heading into Paramount."

My brow furrows. Paramount? It was a popular bar further down the strip. What could she possibly be doing there? It's not exactly a place where someone could easily hide or escape. Unless...

A cold realization washes over me. Paramount isn't just a fancy bar—it's unclaimed. It’s neutral territory.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and I slam my foot down on the accelerator. The Aston Martin roars in response, surging forward with a burst of speed that pushes me back into the leather seat. The world outside becomes a blur of neon and chrome as I weave through traffic with reckless precision, my mind racing even faster than the car.

Luka mentioned to Victor that those bastards have been circling our territory for months, pecking away at the edges, testing our defenses. And Paramount sits right on the razor's edge between our world and the lawless expanse beyond.

As I take a corner at breakneck speed, my knuckles turn white on the steering wheel, tires squealing in protest.

Paramount looms ahead, its neon sign a beacon. I screech to a halt, tires smoking, and leap from the car before it's fully stopped. The valet rushes forward, but I wave him off with a snarl, tossing him the keys without breaking stride.

The bar's interior is a cacophony of noise and flashing lights. Bodies press against me as I push through the crowd, my eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of blonde hair. The bass thrums through my body, but I barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart.

Then I see her.

Gwen is at the bar—

And she’s surrounded by four men.

The sight of Gwen surrounded by those men sends a surge of rage through my veins. I recognize them instantly—the same burgundy-suited thugs from the casino. My fists clench at my sides as I push through the crowd, shouldering past oblivious patrons.

Gwen's face is a mask of defiance, but I can see the fear in her eyes. One of the men leans close, his hand resting possessively on her arm. She tries to pull away, but his grip tightens.

I'm there in an instant, my hand closing around the man's wrist with crushing force. He yelps in pain, releasing Gwen as he spins to face me.

"I believe you're touching my wife," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

The man's eyes widen in recognition. "You," he spits, a smug grin taking over. “Nice of you to join us.”

The leader of the group, a scar-faced brute with cold eyes, steps forward. "Wife, huh? Funny, she didn't mention she was married."

“Y-yes, yes, I am,” Gwen sputters. She meets my eyes, regret and fear glistening in her own.

My jaw clenches, but I maintain my composure. "Walk away now,” I growl as I make eye contact with the seeming leader of the group. “And I might just let you leave unscathed.”

The leader exchanges looks with his friends, and the group laughs. It sends tendrils of anger down my spine, and when I see the fear intensify on Gwen’s face, it takes everything in me not to kill each and every one of them right there.

I reach behind my back, wrapping my fingers around my pistol, clicking it to life. The men freeze, and then the leader scoffs in my face.

“Relax, pal,” He chuckles smugly. “What, you gonna shoot us? Here? In front of all these people?” He laughs. “Cut the shit. You’ll do no such thing. Besides, you’re in neutral territory. It’ll bring your family more heat than they can handle.”

“Are you willing to risk testing that theory?” I say coldly, carefully. My gaze is deadly, my stare unwavering from the leader’s eyes.

For a moment, nobody says a word, nobody moves. I wait for a response, wait for him to dare to call my bluff. To give me the excuse I’m dying for to put bullets in between each of their eyebrows and take Gwen away from all this.

Instead, and to my disappointment, they back down. “Take it easy, pal,” The leader of the group says, taking a step back and raising his hands in faux defense. “We were just being friendly to her, that’s all. Right, Gwen?”

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