Page 2 of Ruthless Bratva King

“Have you tried calling them?”

“Not picking up. I’m scared, Vee.”

“Call the police right now. I’ll be there in ten.” The line goes dead.

With shaking hands, I dial 911. The dispatcher answers in a tone that says she’s heard it all and stopped caring years ago.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

I swallow hard. “Uh, hi, I’d like to report my family missing. I woke up, and they’ve disappeared from our apartment. And someone wrote a message on my wall.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that tells you you’re about to be let down.

“You mean they left some graffiti?” she says, her tone sharp and dismissive. “Just how old are these kids of yours?”

“Not my kids,” I snap, my frustration overriding my fear. “I’m talking about my sister and my parents. Adults.”

“Jeez, lady, maybe they went out for coffee. You think I’ve nothing better than to listen to this bullshit?”

“You’re not hearing me. They’ve disappeared, and someone carved a message into the wall. Beware the Bratva King.”

I hear an audible gasp and then muttered voices—several of them. There’s a rustling sound and a gruff man comes on the line, his voice laced with fear.

“You’re going to hang up, and you’re not going to call us again. Is that understood?”

Fear surges through me. “What?”

He carries on like I haven’t spoken. “If I were you, I’d count myself lucky.”

“Lucky? What are you talking about?”

“You’re the first one he’s ever left alive.”

2

ELENA

“Elena?” Veronica says as I pull the apartment door open to let her in. “You okay?”

I step back, and she gasps as she sees the wall behind me. Her mouth drops open, and Veronica—the human megaphone—is speechless for once.

“Yeah,” I say flatly, waving at the words. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

She steps closer, inspecting the carved letters with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. “What the hell…” She turns to me, her big brown eyes wide. “So when are the cops getting here?”

“They’re not.”

“What? Why not?”

“Told me to drop it. Couldn’t get me off the phone fast enough.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Said I should count myself lucky because, apparently, the Bratva King has never left anyone alive before.”

“Those useless—” She stops herself, running a hand over her face. “Okay. New plan. We go to the cop shop. We sit there andrefuse to leave until they take this seriously. But first…” She grabs my arm and steers me toward the bed. “Sit. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I slump onto the edge of the mattress, still shaking. “Last night, they weren’t yelling; they were whispering. I went through to find out what was happening, but they just told me to go to bed. Then I woke up this morning, and they were gone. All of them. And that-” I point at the wall “-was there instead.”

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