Page 64 of Bound to the Bratva
Maxim’s silence fills the line. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Where the fuck was Andrei?”
He’s pissed Andrei left me alone, but he has to go get food too. “He went downstairs to grab some food and come back. It literally happened within a few minutes.”
“I’m on my way there, don’t touch anything else. Okay?” Maxim says.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice wavering. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
I hang up the phone and look at Andrei. “He’s on his way here now.”
Andrei’s brow furrows with worry as he surveys the overturned chairs and Natalya’s still form. “Serves her right for fucking with you.” he mutters under his breath.
He pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number, speaking in a low, urgent tone.
I watch anxiously, wringing my hands as Andrei speaks. I can feel the blood pounding in my ears, my palms sweating. What have I done? Have I really just killed her, or could she be unconscious?
After a moment, Andrei hangs up the phone and turns to me. “I’m getting a clean-up crew to come here. They’ll handle everything from the broken furniture, blood, to her body.”
“What the hell is a clean-up crew?”
Andrei’s face shifts slightly, almost like he’s amused. “It’s who we call when we have situations like this one.”
I nod, my mind racing. There is really so much about this life that I don’t know, and I need to accept the fact there are going to be enemies just like Natalya that pop up out of nowhere.
Time goes by slower than usual as I stare at the door, waiting for my husband to come in here and help me. I sink into my chair, feeling utterly overwhelmed.
I can’t believe she came to my place of work to do this. If I was planning on killing someone, I’d try to keep as low of a profile that I could.
The minutes feel like hours as we wait in tense silence. There comes a point where I can’t stop staring at Natalya’s motionless body, guilt and fear churning in the pit of my stomach. Did I have a choice, or did I act selfishly in hitting her that hard?
I wasn’t trying to kill her, but I guess in a way it doesn’t matter. Maxim would’ve had her killed for coming after me anyway.
Finally, the door bursts open and Maxim strides in, flanked by a couple of his men. His icy gaze sweeps over the scene, then lands on me. “Aria,” he comes over to me and worriedly scans over my features. “Are you hurt?”
I take a shaky breath, “Yeah. I’m a little shaken up.”
Maxim listens intently, his expression unreadable. “I’m sure you are.”
Maxim’s gaze drifts over at the lifeless body of Natalya, a hard, angry look in his eyes. “She was always a problem,” he says, his voice devoid of any trace of emotion. He walks to Natalya’s body and kneels down, inspecting her for a moment before standing up again. “But it’s over now.”
“Over?” I question. The word echoing loudly through the room, rippling through the tense silence that has settled between us.
“Yes, over.” Maxim turns to look at me, his blue eyes hard as stone but containing a softness reserved only for me. “You were protecting yourself, Aria.” His voice softens with every word he speaks. “Natalya tried to kill you. In our world, that's a death sentence.”
“I know, but—” I try to protest. The words die in my throat as the reality of what I’ve done hits me. Natalya is dead because of me. I mean I knew that already, but the reality is crashing into me like an unrelenting wave.
Maxim reaches out and takes my hand, “We’ll take care of this,” he says, then looks over at Andrei. “Have the team clean this up exceptionally well,” he pauses for a moment and looks back at me. “How about we get out of here?”
Inhaling slowly, I nod.
I glance at Andrei, who gives me a reassuring nod, before following Maxim out of the office, my heart racing. I have a sinking feeling that my life is about to change forever.
Maxim leads me through the hospital’s winding corridors, his pace brisk and his posture rigid. I trail behind him, acutely aware of the weight of his presence. The air is thick with an ominous tension that sets my nerves on edge.
As we walk, I can’t help but steal glances at him, studying his imposing figure. His tailored suit speaks of wealth and power, a stark contrast to the sterile medical setting. There’s an air of danger that clings to him, a barely contained ferocity that makes my heart flutter with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Finally, he stops in a secluded alcove, turning to face me. His icy blue eyes bore into mine, and I find myself unable to look away. “I mean it, we’re going to take care of this. I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay?”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’m trying not to. I just—I don’t know how to process any of this.” The words tumble out, a mixture of desperation and fear.
