Page 8 of Bratva Ruin

The words hit like ice water, and I flinch before I do my best to steady my spine. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he says softly. “It might be better if you weren’t still tied to his life when that happens. I can help with that. Tie up loose ends.”

I don’t know what that means.

I don’t want to know.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, flicking my attention to my car. “Is there anything else?”

“One more thing.” He smiles without warmth. “The bakery. Whether it’s in your name or not, it’s still his. Building a new life on his money, his property, his protection… just hope he never slips back into the States, darling. Because Benedikt doesn’t give things. He claims them.”

The words slice straight through me because they’re true.

“Do yourself a favor.” Nikolai straightens his cuffs. “Get out while you can. Start clean.”

“And what, disappear?”

“If you’re smart.”

I shake my head. “You sound just like him.”

Nikolai grins. “That’s the shittiest thing anyone’s said to me all week.” He studies me in silence, then smiles again. “Think about what I said.”

I won’t.

My grandmother is here, and I won’t leave her behind.

Then he turns, slides into the SUV, and drives away.

The night feels colder when he’s gone. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the empty street and the space where his car was. The quiet presses in until I can’t breathe.

I wanted this.

Freedom.

Normalcy.

Peace.

So why does it feel like I’m waiting for something to break?

I get in my car and start the engine, my hands shaking just enough that I have to grip the wheel tighter.

The city’s gone still by the time I get home. My apartment feels too big, too quiet. I drop my keys in the bowl by the door, kick off my shoes, and sink onto the couch.

The air smells like lemon cleaner and detergent—ordinary things. I should feel safe here.

Instead, I feel haunted.

Haunted by Benedikt’s voice, low and sharp in my memory.

By the weight of his hand on my throat when he wanted my attention.

By the look he gave me when I agreed to let him be taken away.

I press my palms to my face and exhale hard.

I don’t miss him.