Page 72 of Used Bratva Bride

My breath catches. Right. The kitten. I nod. “She’s getting treatment. They said I brought her in on time.”

He doesn’t react at first, but then, a slight flicker of something—relief?—crosses his face.

Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. “Good,” he says, turning away. “Go upstairs. You need rest.”

His dismissiveness grates at me, but I bite my tongue. I nod once, stiffly, and force myself to move.

As I make my way up the stairs, I press my hand against my pocket, feeling the small, hidden weight of the phone. The countdown has begun.

Chapter Nineteen - Mikhail

I lean back in my chair, rolling my whiskey glass between my fingers, the amber liquid catching the dim light of the chandelier above. The office smells faintly of smoke, remnants of a cigar I put out earlier. My jacket is draped over the back of my chair, sleeves rolled to my elbows. The house is eerily quiet tonight.

No maids. No guards. No distractions.

Except for one. Julie.

Somewhere upstairs, locked away in my home, my wife—a title that still feels foreign on my tongue. But right now, she isn’t my concern. Business is.

Across from me, Ivan lounges in his chair, but the usual cocky grin is missing. Instead, he slides a folder onto my desk, his fingers tapping against the wood as his gaze meets mine.

“How did the meeting with Evans go?” he asks.

I swirl the whiskey in my glass before taking a slow sip. “Better than expected. He’s interested, and he already favors us over the Spades.”

Ivan raises a brow. “That easy?”

I smirk. “Nothing is easy in this business, but Evans knows we offer stability. The Spades? They’re chaos, unreliable. He doesn’t trust them to keep their word.”

Ivan chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “They must be fuming.”

“They should be.” I set my glass down, fingers drumming against the desk. “They’ve been after him for months, and now, I’ve taken him right out from under them.”

Ivan leans back, stretching his legs out. “Speaking of the Spades, they haven’t made a move yet. It’s been too quiet.”

I nod slowly. “Yet.”

Silence lingers between us, heavy with unspoken understanding. The Spades are planning something. They have to be.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my jaw. “They’re waiting for the right moment. Letting us think we’ve won before they strike.”

Ivan watches me carefully, eyes narrowed. “Are you letting yourself get comfortable?”

I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Never.”

I don’t do comfortable. Comfort breeds weakness. Weakness is what gets men like me killed.

Ivan’s expression shifts, something unreadable passing over his face. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

I gesture for him to continue.

“The evidence against Sophia,” he says, his voice lowering. “It’s too obvious.”

My fingers tighten around the whiskey glass. “Explain.”

Ivan slides the folder closer. “I looked into it again. The way the evidence was left behind—it feels deliberate. Like someone wanted us to find it.”

I flip through the pages, scanning over the financial transactions, the witness statements. The supposed proof that Sophia orchestrated Valeri’s death.

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