Page 16 of Ruthless Bratva King

But it won’t get messy, at least not for me. It never does.

The tall one moves first, lunging at me with a clumsy swing. I sidestep easily, grabbing his wrist and twisting until I hear the satisfying pop of dislocation.

He screams, doubling over, and I bring my knee up hard into his face. Blood sprays as he crumples to the floor.

Bulldog charges next, his fists swinging wildly. I catch one of his punches and drive my elbow into his throat.

He stumbles back, gasping for air, and I finish him with a sharp kick to the knee. He collapses with a howl, clutching his leg.

The third one hesitates, his confidence wavering. I don’t give him time to decide. Grabbing him by the collar, I slam him face-first into the table, then twist his arm behind his back until he’s screaming.

“Anyone else?” I ask, turning to the room.

I release the third man, letting him slump to the floor. My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration cutting through the tension. I pull it out, glancing at the screen before answering.

“Dmitri,” Peter’s voice growls, low and menacing. “You’ve been seen on Lombardi’s turf.”

“Following a lead,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“Don’t leave witnesses.”

“I never do.”

The line goes dead.

I slip the phone back into my pocket, my gaze shifting to the three men writhing on the floor. Bulldog glares up at me, his lip split and bleeding.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he spits, his voice thick with pain. “Lombardi will have you killed for this.”

I crouch down, pulling my gun from my jacket. The metallic click of the safety disengaging echoes in the quiet room.

“We all got to die sometime,” I say softly, nestling the barrel in his eye socket. “Where will I find Jimmy Carlton?”

13

ELENA

Veronica drives, her fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against the steering wheel. The dull hum of the engine fills the silence between us, but my mind is anything but quiet.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Veronica says, dragging me from my thoughts.

“What thing?”

“That broody, staring-out-the-window, I’m-so-misunderstood thing.” She smirks, shooting me a quick glance before turning back to the road. “It’s very ‘sad indie movie heroine.’ All you need is a rainstorm and an obscure acoustic soundtrack.”

I snort, but the corner of my mouth twitches up despite myself. “Sabrina Carpenter’s more my vibe, and you know it.”

“Keep please, please, pleasing me then. Meanwhile, I’m chauffeuring you to sketchy addresses like a good best friend.”

“You didn’t have to say yes.”

“It didn’t seem that way. And I can’t let you wander into the lion’s den alone. Someone has to be around to hold your purse when this mysterious Bratva King sweeps you off your feet.”

I shoot her a glare, but she doesn’t even flinch. She’s used to my grumpiness by now.

“I’m serious,” she continues, her voice softer now. “You need to stop trying to appease people who don’t deserve you. Your family doesn’t deserve this level of compassion. Whatever you think you owe them, you don’t. I had to listen to Natalia yelling at you so many times, I got second hand tinnitus.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, her words striking a nerve. “I can’t just walk away, can I? What am I supposed to do, Veronica? Pretend they don’t exist? Pretend they didn’t raise me?”

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