Page 69 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

Salma twists around and starts hissing at her daughter in Spanish. “¡Vuelve a tu cuarto! No es seguro aquí—”

“We can protect you,” I interrupt. “He won’t ever hurt you again.”

Salma whips back to fix me with an alarmed look. “We really can’t say anything,” she says vehemently. “If we do and they find out, we’ll lose everything. We’re already in debt. We can’t… we can’t afford to lose—"

“She said I’d be safe,” the girl says, stepping forward against her mother’s wishes. Her eyes flit between Jennifer and me.

“Who did?”

“The woman who brought me to him.”

I glance towards Jennifer, then back to Lana. “Can you tell us her name?”

Lana shakes her head. “She was… she was nice to me.”

“She was nice to you for a reason, Lana,” Salma cuts in. Her tone is harsh, but it’s only because she’s terrified. “She wanted you to trust her. Now,callaté, mija.”

“We don’t work for him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jennifer says. “Trust me, Salma. We’re trying to stop him.”

“Stop him first,” she retorts. “Until then, get off my property.”

“Please—” Jennifer starts, but I cut her off.

“It’s okay. We’re done here.” I give Salma a nod. “If you ever need anything, you can call this number.”

I hand her a little black card with a number on it. She takes it with a frown and stares at it for a moment. “There’s no name.”

“Just call the number, say your name, and you’ll get to me. Only your name. If you say anything else, the line goes dead.”

She looks even more terrified now, but she pockets the card and nods. Jennifer and I walk through the house and exit through the front door.

“She’s spooked,” Jennifer mutters as we go. “Both of them. They’re never going to feel safe again, no matter what we do.”

I nod in grim agreement. My fists tighten at my sides. “Hargrove will pay for that.”

17

OLIVIA

I stare at my siblings over our mother’s coffin.

Mia looked at me once when I arrived, but she turned away so fast I’m surprised her neck didn’t snap from whiplash. She hasn’t met my eyes again.

To my surprise, I’m grateful for Demyan. He hasn’t left my side since we arrived, despite how hard I tried to convince him to stay at the perimeter with the rest of the security detail.

“Do you want my blood on your hands?” he’d asked casually. “No? Then I’m staying with you. That husband of yours is a mean son of a bitch. I’m not about to disobey him.”

Husband.

Aleks Makarova is my husband. I’m actually getting used to the idea. I may not have chosen him, but despite everything, I don’t regret him.

Not now, anyway.

Aunt Agatha moves towards me, her sharp blue eyes taking me in. “Darling, how are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” I say shortly.

“Well, I have to say, you look wonderful in mourning.” She gives me a very pointed once-over. “Is that Valentino?”

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