Page 33 of Used Bratva Bride

I feel Mikhail’s eyes on me.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I murmur. My voice is quieter than I mean for it to be.

There’s a pause, and when he speaks, his tone is almost amused. “Oh?”

I nod, keeping my focus on the kitten. “You have to be gentle, but firm. If it thinks you’re unsure, it won’t trust you.”

Mikhail is silent, but I can feel him thinking, watching me.

I continue stroking the kitten’s head, whispering soft reassurances.

Slowly, its trembling subsides, its tiny body warming against me. I don’t know why, but something in my chest eases. It’s the first time since I was taken that I’ve held something fragile. The first time I’ve felt something other than fear, anger, or exhaustion.

The thought rises before I can stop it, slipping from my lips before I even consider what I’m asking.

“Can I keep it?”

I expect resistance.

Expect him to say no, to remind me that nothing in my life belongs to me anymore.

Instead, Mikhail exhales, running a hand through his short hair. “Take care of it,” he says simply, before turning and walking away.

I stare after him.

That’s it? No condition, no threats, no mocking remark?

I hold the kitten closer, pressing my lips together. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Maybe because, for the first time, I was given something rather than having something taken from me. Despite everything, I feel less alone with this small creature in my arms.

A moment passes, the air settling around me again.

Then I feel a sharp, prickling sensation crawling up my spine.

The unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I freeze. A chill spreads through my body, my grip tightening on the kitten as my pulse kicks up. Slowly, I glance toward the far edge of the estate.

A man stands there. He’s wearing dark clothing. He holds a casual stance, but too still, too deliberate to be anything but purposeful.

My stomach drops. I know him.

Not by name, but by face; he works for my father. He’s one of James Spade’s men.

A rush of adrenaline surges through me. Did they send him? Are they watching me, planning something?

I open my mouth, but before I can speak, he’s gone. Vanished, slipping into the trees as if he was never there.

I stand frozen, my breath shallow, my pulse thundering in my ears. The man is gone, but the fear remains, sinking into my bones like ice. I grip the kitten a little tighter, needing something, anything, to ground me.

I should keep quiet, should pretend I saw nothing.

Unfortunately, Mikhail is already watching me, his expression shifting from mild disinterest to something far more focused.

I feel it—the shift in the air, the way his dark eyes narrow, the way he subtly straightens as if preparing for a fight.

“What is it?” His voice is sharp, cutting through my panic like a blade.

I shake my head instinctively, but the movement is small, uncertain.

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