Page 13 of Marked & Bred By the Bratva
I go back inside the walls. Slide back into the crawlspace that connects to her place.
She left her hoodie on the floor again.
Fucking perfect.
I pull it through the closet door and bury my face in it. It’s still warm. Still smells like her.
Baby, you let me inside your place.
That fucking changes everything.
No more silent watching. No more pacing through the walls. Now she knows me. The sound of my voice. My eyes on her mouth, my words in her head.
I’m not a ghost anymore.
I’m real.
And tonight?
I’m going to remind her just how real I can be.
* * *
She asked for my help.
She called me when she needed something.
And she looked at me, really looked. Like I was safe. Like I was good.
She has no fucking idea.
I press my back to the inside of the hidden panel in the wall, fists clenched, breathing hard. I want to go back in. I want to pull her close and make her say my name again, softer this time. Moaning it. Crying it.
But she’s not ready.
Not yet.
Tonight, I’ll give her more of me. She won’t know it’s happening, but her body will. And one day she’ll thank me for this. For taking care of her. For claiming her before the world could ruin her.
* * *
I watch through the monitors as Ava moves through her routine. Puts on her nightshirt. Puts her hair in a bonnet. Washes her face. Then she picks up the water bottle on her nightstand and takes a long sip.
The same bottle I replaced earlier. Same brand, same cap, same weight.
She has no idea I dosed it.
Nothing too serious, just a couple drops. Enough to knock her deep. Enough to keep her body soft and slack while I do what I need.
For her.
Because tonight, I need more.
She turns off the light. Crawls into bed.
It doesn’t take long. Ten minutes, maybe.
Her breathing slows. Her muscles go heavy.
