Page 81 of Ruthless Bratva King

What if no one answers?

Or worse—what if someone does?

I push those thoughts down, swallowing my fear, and knock. The sound echoes, sharp and hollow. For a moment, there’s nothing. Then footsteps—light, hurried—approach from the other side.

The door opens a crack, revealing a woman’s face. Her eyes widen in recognition, her mouth parting in shock.

“Elena? What are you doing here?”

“Mom.” My throat tightens. “You’re alive.”

“Who is it?” Dad shouts from deeper inside.

“Elena,” Mom replies.

He comes up to the door, pulling it wide open. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, sneering out at me. “How did you find us?”

I meet his gaze, taking in his angry expression. There’s no joy in his eyes, no relief. Just unease, like I’m a ghost come back to haunt him.

“Nice to see you too, Dad. Going to invite me in?”

He mutters something but then steps aside, letting me walk in. Natalia is on her cellphone on a sagging couch. She doesn’t even look up. I turn to face my parents.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why what?” Dad replies.

“You left me behind. Why?”

My mother replies slowly, his movements cautious. “We did what we had to.”

Anger bubbles to the surface. “You abandoned me. Left me there with no warning, no explanation. Do you have any idea what that did to me? I didn’t know if you were dead or alive.”

Dad exhales heavily and sits back down, rubbing a hand over his face. “We thought the Bratva King would deal with you and give us more time to hide. Clearly we didn’t hide well enough. I’ve not got it, if that’s what you’ve come for.”

“Not got what?”

“The statue. What was the plan? Take it from me and sell it back? Sorry to disappoint you but Peter Ivanov beat you to it. He found out where I was hiding it the same day I took the fucking thing. Left me with nothing to show for my efforts, the son of a bitch.”

The words hit me hard. “I know that. I have the statue. I’m here to find out what happened to you all.”

“You have it? Where is it? It’s worth millions.”

“You’re not getting it.”

My mother averts her gaze, and my sister crosses her arms, still refusing to meet my eyes.

“He was after us,” Mom says, her tone defensive. She stops, looking away.

My voice cracks with disbelief. “You hoped Dmitri would kill me so you could be safe. You left me to die.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Natalia mutters. “You’ve always been such a victim.”

I whirl on her, fury burning in my chest. “Victim? You left me to die at the hands of a man you were running from, and I’m the victim?”

“You got him into bed instead though, didn’t you? Opened your legs for him easily enough, right?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” my father says sharply, his voice rising. “Dmitri will follow you here. You’ve put us all in danger, you selfish bitch.”

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