Page 22 of Bratva Ruin

“Where would you even go?”

“Italy.” His gaze remains fixed on me. “I’ve got friends there. Power. A clean slate.”

“You’re leaving again?”

“Not without you.”

I shake my head violently as panic blooms in my chest. “I can’t just leave. My grandmother, Lucy, my bakery?—”

“I’m paying your grandmother’s rent,” he says calmly. “She’ll be fine.”

“That’s not the point,” I snap. “You can’t just move me around wherever you see fit.”

“Then don’t make me treat you like I have to.”

“Please, Benedikt. Don’t do this.”

“You want another deal, princess?” He moves, muscling his cock inside me again, and I groan with the pleasure that aggressively shoots through me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“And in return?”

“You want to stay in Miami?” I bob my head as his pace quickens, deliciously stretching me and making my stomach flutter. “Date me.”

My eyes widen a bit because that’s… normal.

As normal as it gets.

“Just... date?”

He hums. “No, princess. I still want my heir. And I want it now.”

I moan when he picks the perfect pace to get me to break apart.

Then he leans in and says, “Is that a deal, princess?”

6

Benedikt

They came at me outside the club, three cars deep.

Black SUVs. No plates. No hesitation.

Nikolai’s men.

They didn’t bother with warnings or messages—just bullets. The first shattered the passenger window; the second missed my head by an inch. The third found my shoulder, and that’s when the real fun started.

I ducked behind the car door, returned fire, and dropped two before the third got out of his seat.

They were loud, sloppy, and too confident. Idiots. They came for blood, but they weren’t prepared for me to still have some bite left.

The last one tried to run, but he didn’t make it past the curb.

By the time I got back into the car, smoke was rising from the hood, and my clip was half empty. I drove anyway, bleeding into my jacket, teeth gritted, and adrenaline doing its job.

So now, as I pull up the driveway with the taste of metal still in my mouth, I’m running on fumes from the charge of energy.

My jacket’s soaked through. The blood is starting to dry stiff, but I’m alive.