Page 25 of Ruthless Bratva King

I don’t react. I’ve seen worse, done worse. This isn’t about shock value—it’s about control.

He leans forward, his eyes drilling into mine. “Tell me. Do you fear death?”

“You know I don’t,” I reply. “Ask me another.”

Peter’s nostrils flare. “Good answer. What’s your next move?”

“I will get it back,” I say, ignoring the question. “Faster if I’m not called into fucking pointless meetings like this one.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut. Then he leans back, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I love you, my boy. Nothing scares you, not even me.” He hands me a file. “Your uncle needs your help down in Miami.”

“What’s Victor doing in Miami?”

“Bailing your cousin out.”

“Maxim’s been busted?”

He gives me a cold grin. “Find the cop who made the arrest. Make it messy and make sure you film it. It’s been a while since I had a good movie night.”

I nod once, turn on my heel, and walk out. My pace is calm, measured. There’s no room for weakness here. Not with Peter Ivanov.

The air outside bites at my face, sharp and cold, but it doesn’t clear the heaviness in my chest. I’m calm on the surface, but inside, I’m spiraling.

Attachment is weakness. I’ve told myself that for years.

I picture Elena’s stormy gray eyes and the way her lips curve when she’s trying not to smile.

Despite everything, tendrils of feeling are reaching from me, hoping to wrap around her wounded heart and pull he close.

Protecting her is going to get me killed.

But even as I think it, I know I’d do it again. I’ll walk the tightrope, lie to Peter, risk everything—for her.

18

DMITRI

The ride to the airport is quiet. I keep the windows down despite the cold, letting the sharp air bite at my face.

I lied. Not a half-truth or a carefully worded evasion this time. A full-blown, brazen lie.

Peter’s built his reputation on having efficient radar for deceit. I’m playing with fire.

It’s in the parcel sitting in Elena’s hands. I am certain of it. I don’t know who sent it to her but I can guess. Her father, trying to get the focus on her, get her killed while he runs.

I could have killed her and brought it to Peter, then tracked down Jimmy and slit his throat. But I didn’t do any of that.

Elena’s face flashes in my mind—those wide, stormy eyes, the way her lips parted when I cornered her in the library. The fire in her voice when she tried to hold her ground against me.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

She’s got under my skin, crawling into places I’ve long since buried. Places I didn’t think still existed anymore.

Avoiding emotional entanglements is what keeps me alive. But now, with every second I spend thinking about her, my shield of ice is melting, leaving me exposed for the first time.

And if Peter finds out?

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