Page 68 of Bratva Bidder

“Nadya,” he says, more gently. “Who are you here for?”

I finally turn to him.

His face is unreadable. Calm. Controlled. But his eyes…they’re asking.

I grip the paper bag tighter. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” I say, my voice thin. “I’m not—this isn’t a betrayal.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask. “What, you followed me? You lied about leaving town?”

He grabs me by my elbow so I have no choice but to stop and look at him. “I need answers, right now. No more lying.”

“Don’t do this here,” I murmur, glancing around. A couple nurses pass by, but no one’s paying attention.

“No?” he says. “Seems like here’s exactly where this conversation belongs.”

I shake my head, pressing my back lightly against the wall. “You followed me.”

He steps closer. “I gave you space. And you ran straight to the one thing you’ve been hiding.”

“You don’t know anything,” I say, but even I hear the weakness in my voice.

He leans in, not touching me, not raising his voice—but there’s heat in his eyes now. Not just anger. Hurt.

“I know enough,” he says quietly. “I know you’ve been coming here. I know you wired money to a woman named Irina.”

My throat feels like it’s closing. “Please,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move. “Who are you protecting?” he asks, almost gently. “Because it’s not just yourself.”

I look away.

He’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him anymore.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” he says. “Don’t act like I haven’t noticed. The missed calls, the nights you disappear into that damn room, the fake stories about your past?—”

“I never told you any stories,” I snap, voice trembling. “You never asked.”

“Bullshit,” he says, taking a step closer. “You think I haven’t seen you texting at all hours? The way you completely disappeared into a shell this past week? The way you left at the party and lied about it? I know you came here, Nadya.”

My head jerks toward him. “You knew?”

“Yes,” he says.

“You put out a trap for me.”

“It’s not a trap,” he says. “I needed to know why you’re slipping away. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know, Konstantin,” I hiss, my heart racing. “Maybe that I have a life outside ofyou.”

What did he think it was? I don’t belong to him.

His eyes flash. “Is that what this is?”

I freeze.

“I should’ve known,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “The way you vanish when my back’s turned. The way you lie so easily.”