Page 78 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva
I don’t know what’s going on—but I can feel it in my bones.
Kaz is hiding something.
And I don’t know if I’m afraid of what’s coming next….
Or of what I already know but haven’t admitted yet. I can’t afford for him to be reckless anymore. We have created something together, and this is now a team effort.
At this moment, I feel so lonely it hurts. We left the estate in such a hurry that I couldn’t grab any of my phones; otherwise, I would have called Noelle. Kaz did not worry when he walked in on me calling her earlier. It’s weird, but I almost can’t believe it’s only been hours since he walked in and caught me with the burner phone.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn quickly, expecting Kaz—but it’s not him. It’s Arina.
They’re standing in the doorway, one hand tucked into the pocket of their sleek jacket, the other gently tapping against the doorframe. Their blond pixie cut is slightly tousled, and there’s a fresh cut near their temple, barely scabbed.
They step inside without a word and come to stand next to me by the window. For a moment, neither of us says anything. We just stare out at the dusky sky.
Finally, I ask, voice quiet, “Where’s Kaz?”
Arina exhales. “He’ll be back soon.”
“Where did he go?” I press, hugging the blanket tighter around me.
“To the estate,” they say, glancing sideways at me. “Tying up loose ends. We were with him earlier, but came back ahead of him. He stayed to handle something.”
Something. That word never means anything good in Kaz’s world.
I nod slowly. My chest still feels tight.
Arina nudges me gently with their shoulder. “He’ll be fine. You know Kaz—he’s a storm wrapped in a body. Takes a lot more than a few bad men to knock him down.”
I try to smile, but it feels fragile.
Arina notices. “Violet,” they say, softer now. “Things are almost over. You’ve been through hell, but it’s almost done. You won’t have to keep looking over your shoulder. We’ll make sure of it.”
I look at them then, at the bruises, the bloodstained collar of their shirt, the unwavering calm in their voice. A pause stretches between us again, and then Arina gives me a small, knowing smile.
“Try to get some rest,” they say, taking my arm and guiding me back to the bed. “Kaz won’t be long.”
They sit beside me on the bed, a gentle smile on their face. I don’t know what it is exactly—something in Arina’s tone, the stillness in their eyes, the almost-too-calm way they spoke. Like they were reciting a rehearsed line. Like their comfort was…practiced.
Like a lie in a pretty coat.
My skin itches. My heartbeat stutters.
I try to brush it off—I do. But something about them feels wrong. It isn’t just the way they sit too still or how their smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes. It’s the way they didn’t meet my gaze when they mentioned Kaz. It’s the way their eyes—when they meet mine—are cold and terrifying.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
Arina is still sitting beside me, but for the first time, their presence is suffocating. The air is thick and heavy, like I’m drowning in it. My fingers curl tightly into the sheets.
And then it hits me.
Everything.
All at once.
The panic grips my throat, and I gasp. I can’t breathe. My chest tightens. My vision blurs. I clutch my stomach—our baby. My baby.
