Page 6 of Marked & Bred By the Bratva
Work is blessedly normal.
I sling smoothies and protein bowls at the smoothie bar where I work. The place is packed because local gym bros are all allergic to real food and emotionally committed to whey protein.
“Your new place working out okay?” my manager, Kira, asks while I’m wrist-deep in acai.
“Yup,” I chirp, trying not to remember the phantom fingerprints. “Super chill. Quiet. Cheap.”
“‘Cheap’ sounds like code for dump.’”
I laugh a little too hard.
She raises a brow. “Seriously. You good?”
“Totally.” I force a grin. “I’ve just been having weird dreams. And I think I’m sleepwalking?”
She leans in, lowers her voice. “Okay but real talk it’s not haunted or something, right?”
I smack her arm, we both laugh, and for a second, it’s easy to believe I’m just being silly.
* * *
Back home, I take a long, hot shower.
Scrub everywhere. Shave. Wash my hair twice, even though I’m out of conditioner and using old hotel bottles my mom gave me when I moved.
The mirror fogs fast, even with the vent on. I wipe it with my towel, and for a second, I think I see something move behind me.
I spin. Nothing.
“Okay, Ava,” I mutter. “You’re tired. Your brain is being a bitch. Chill.”
But when I get out of the bathroom and walk into my bedroom, something feels off.
It’s my laundry.
Again.
My underwear is folded and I’m almost sure I didn’t do that. I always toss it in the drawer like the busy, messy girl I am. I even made a whole TikTok about it once, “chaotic girl drawer energy.” It got like seven likes.
And now… it’s folded. Neatly. Like someone was trying to be nice.
I open the drawer slowly.
Half my panties are gone.
Again.
My stomach flips. A slow, sick feeling spreads over my body.
I didn’t do that.
I know I didn’t do that.
* * *
I call the building manager.
No answer.
