Page 58 of Bratva Prisoner
“How bad?” I ask as I reach the man with the shoulder wound.
“Through and through,” he replies through gritted teeth. “But it burns like hell.”
I help apply additional pressure to the wound while Maksim coordinates getting the more seriously injured man to a hospital. Watching him take charge of the crisis, making sure his people are cared for before anything else, confirms what I’ve been reluctant to admit.
I’m falling for this man. Not despite his dangerous world, but because of how he handles it with honor, loyalty, and genuine care for the people under his protection.
“Are you hurt?” he asks when he finally reaches my side, checking me for injuries even though I was never in danger.
“I’m fine. But your people—”
“Will be fine too. The medical team is already on the way.”
“What was that about? Why did Kozlov come here?”
Maksim glances around at the aftermath of the gunfight before answering. “He wanted us to honor a contract we made before he allied with the Serpents. When we refused, he thought he could intimidate us into compliance.”
“He was wrong.”
“Very wrong. No one threatens my people and walks away unscathed.”
The sound of approaching sirens gets our attention, and soon, paramedics arrive to tend to the wounded while police officers who are clearly on Maksim’s payroll begin documenting a version of events that will never see a courtroom.
As I watch Maksim coordinate the cleanup with the same calm he brings to everything else, I realize that my transformation is complete. I’m no longer an outsider looking in on his world.
I’m part of it now, for better or worse.
Chapter 17 - Maksim
Watching someone you care about help bandage gunshot wounds shouldn’t be the moment you realize you’re completely gone for them, but here we are.
I drive us back to Ravenshollow in relative silence while we both work through what happened at the docks. Alyssa stares out the passenger window like the suburbs have suddenly become the most fascinating thing. Her hands are still stained with traces of blood from helping the injured men, and every few minutes, she flexes her fingers like she’s trying to work out invisible tension.
“You did good today,” I tell her as we pull through the estate gates.
“I didn’t do anything special. Just basic first aid.”
“You ran toward danger instead of away from it. That’s not nothing.”
She turns to look at me for the first time since we left the warehouse. “I was more scared for you than of the situation. Isn’t that insane? I could’ve been shot if one of those men was still lurking around, but all I could think of was getting to you.”
I can’t stop the smile that starts at the corner of my mouth. “That says you care about me.”
“I do care about you. More than I should, considering we barely know each other.”
The admission sends warmth spreading through my chest, but the adrenaline from the gunfight has finally worn off, leaving behind the familiar ache that comes after violence. My shoulders feel like they’re carved from concrete, and there’s apersistent knot between my shoulder blades that’s been building for hours.
“You look exhausted,” Alyssa observes as we walk through the front door.
“Long day.”
“When’s the last time you actually relaxed? I mean really relaxed, not just sat still while planning your next move.”
I consider the question seriously, trying to remember the last time I wasn’t thinking about business, family obligations, or potential threats. The answer is depressing.
“I honestly can’t remember.”
“That’s what I thought.” She sets her purse down and adds, “Go upstairs and change into something comfortable. Meet me in the living room in ten minutes.”
