Page 67 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
His hands closed over my face, his lips crashing onto mine. It wasn’t gentle—it was a claim, fierce and unyielding. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, desperate, breathless. The passion that had been building flared into a wildfire, burning hotter and fiercer, consuming everything in its path.
He pressed me back against the wall, his body solid heat against mine. The world outside—the forest, the Bratva, Feliks—disappeared. There was only this moment. Only us. Our breaths harsh, our hearts frantic. Only us. This wasn’t romance. It was survival. It was possession. It was a raw, frantic need to prove we were alive.
Later, when the storm quieted, I pressed my forehead to his, my body trembling against the steady strength of his.
“Danik,” I whispered. “Would you have me die? For the Bratva? For the money?”
His eyes snapped to mine, fierce. “You ask that now? After everything?”
“I need to know,” I pressed. “Tell me.”
His grip tightened at my waist, anchoring me. His voice dropped low, solemn, unshakable. “I would have died myself before I kept that from happening. There is no money, no power, no organization worth your life. Ever.”
The truth in his tone struck deeper than Irene’s paper daggers ever could. I believed him. Completely.
Then, a sharp knock shattered the silence. Danil’s entire body shifted from calm to predatory readiness. He grabbed his gun and opened the door. Luka stepped inside, urgency visible on his face.
“Danil,” he said quickly. “We have a situation. Feliks has made his move.”
Danil’s eyes narrowed. “What move?”
“He’s called an urgent meeting,” Luka said grimly. “Tomorrow. Every Yezhov. Every head of every family. All of them.”
The words fell like a death sentence.
Danil’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “So the coward finally crawled out of his hole.”
“It’s a trap,” Luka warned. “He’s desperate. He’s trying to draw you out.”
Danil’s smile widened, dark and sharp. “Then let him. I’ve been waiting.” He turned to me, and his voice softened through his eyes. “Katria, you don’t have to come. This isn’t your fight.”
But it was. Feliks had lied, used me, tried to kill me, and murdered my father. My fear hardened into something colder, sharper.
“Thisismy fight,” I said, my voice steady. “He thought I was a pawn. He thought I was disposable. He was wrong. And he’s going to see how wrong he was.”
Danil didn’t speak. He just held out his hand.
I took it.
“Want to know what I think?” he inquired, kissing the back of my palm, eyes not leaving mine.
I shrugged.
“Seeing you there will make it too easy for him. It’s like putting all our cards on the table. He’s smart and cunning. He’llknow immediately that they’re stacked against him. Let’s push him into a corner; he won’t be able to back out with any excuse.”
I was silent for a brief moment, seeing the sense in what he was suggesting.
“Must you always be so smart and calculating?” I asked, squinting my eyes up at him playfully.
“Naturally,” he answered. “I’m a Mafia boss.”
“But is that the only reason?” I pressed. “There’s no teeny-weeny thought that maybe being here is safer for me?”
His eyes shone with a pleasant kind of surprise. “Now, who’s the smartass?”
I laughed at his remark.
“Your safety is always my priority. It’s non-negotiable,” he affirmed, his expression void of humor.
