Page 37 of Bratva Bidder

Alexei exhales slowly. “Could’ve been worse. My mother’s hysterical.”

I nod again. “And my father?”

His expression flickers again. This time, something tightens behind his eyes.

“Alive,” he says. “Pissed. Yelling at everyone like they planned the attack themselves.”

I don’t respond to that. I don’t trust what might come out if I open my mouth.

Instead, I watch Alexei study me. Then Nadya. Then me again.

He looks tired in a way I rarely see—like whatever mask he usually wears slipped during the gunfire and he hasn’t had time to pull it back on yet.

“They were aiming for you,” he says, quieter now. “Only you.”

I don’t answer. He already knows I know.

Alexei’s gaze holds mine for another long second. And this time, he doesn’t look like my little brother. He looks like a man who’s seen enough death tonight to realize nothing about our world is stable.

“I’ll check in later,” he says finally, stepping back. “You should get her out of here.”

I nod again, more slowly this time.

Before turning away, he looks at Nadya once more, offering her a tired, genuine kind of smile. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he says.

She hesitates, then nods, her voice quiet. “Thanks.”

And then he’s gone—vanishing down the opposite corridor like a shadow fading into the concrete.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and push through the exit doors with Nadya still tucked close to my side.

Only after the cold night air hits my face do I let my guard loosen.

Only then does the question rise to the surface and refuse to be swallowed.

I stop walking.

Nadya turns to look at me, brow creasing, confused by the sudden pause.

And I say it. “How did you do that?” My voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it.

Her shoulders stiffen slightly. “Do what?”

“You moved before the first shot,” I say, studying her closely now. “You grabbed me, pulled me down—like you knew exactly where it was coming from.”

I take a step closer.

“That wasn’t panic,” I add.

She looks at me for a moment, her mouth a tight line. I don’t know if she’s going to lie, deflect, or run.

But whatever she says next?—

It’ll tell me more about who she really is than anything else that’s come before.

9

NADYA