Page 68 of Used Bratva Bride

It’s private. Exclusive. Of course, it is.

Everything in Mikhail’s world is tailored for his convenience, including the places he takes injured animals. I doubt a single person in this building would dare to turn me away, not when they know who sent me.

A woman at the front desk nods at the guards before waving me through. “Right this way,” she says smoothly. “Dr. Petrov is expecting you.”

I barely hear her words as I follow, my pulse pounding in my ears.

The vet is a middle-aged man with silver at his temples and a calm expression. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. The second I set the kitten down on the exam table, he gets to work.

I stand stiffly beside him, watching his every move as he gently lifts one of the kitten’s paws, presses lightly along her ribs, checks her ears and gums. My throat is dry.

“Well?” I force the question out, my voice brittle with fear.

Dr. Petrov straightens, pulling off his gloves. “It’s an infection,” he says, his tone reassuring. “She’s very weak, but you brought her just in time.”

I suck in a sharp breath, my chest loosening just slightly.

“She’ll need antibiotics and fluids,” he continues. “We’ll keep her here for observation overnight, just to be safe, but I don’t see any reason she won’t recover.”

My legs almost give out from relief.

I nod quickly, my hands gripping the edge of the table. “Can I see her before I go?”

The vet smiles. “Of course.”

I watch as they set up an IV, the tiny needle taped to her fragile leg. Her small body looks even more delicate against the stark white of the blanket beneath her, and I have to blink back the stinging in my eyes.

“She’s a fighter,” Dr. Petrov says kindly.

I can only nod again, swallowing hard.

A sudden presence beside me makes me stiffen. I turn slightly, finding Arlo, my guard, standing closer than I expected.

“You look tired,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

I blink at him, caught off guard. The guards never speak to me unless it’s an order.

His face is unreadable, but something lingers in his dark eyes. Something almost… assessing.

“I’m fine,” I reply automatically, though the exhaustion dragging at my limbs says otherwise.

His gaze flickers over my face before he jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Maybe refresh. Bathroom’s that way.”

I hesitate.

Something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten. Like there’s a second meaning buried beneath the words.

I don’t question it. I should be suspicious, but I’m too drained to think straight.

I nod once, casting one last glance at the kitten before forcing my feet to move. As I step into the hallway, my thoughts are still tangled in a mess of exhaustion and unease.

The restroom is empty. Cool, sterile lighting reflects off the polished tile floors, casting a faint glow over the mirrors. I press my hands against the sink, trying to steady my breathing,but my mind is too cluttered. The kitten is safe for now. That should be enough to calm me.

It isn’t.

Something about Arlo’s behavior doesn’t sit right with me. He’s been silent for weeks, treating me the same as any other prisoner under Mikhail’s watch, and now, suddenly, he’s playing the role of the concerned escort?

My stomach churns.

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