Page 29 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

I’m unsure if I want this night to end, and thankfully, Caleb seems to have the same idea because he drives past my building with a sheepish look.

“There’s a park nearby I thought would be nice to walk through,” he explains. “I’m not quite ready to let you go yet. Unless you want me to drop you off?”

I know the one he speaks of, though I’ve never walked through it.

A park at nighttime? That’s something I haven’t prepared for. Considering I never went out past sundown for so long, and now when I do, it’s only to stick to the main and busier roads, with plenty of traffic, streetlights, and other people walking—witnesses in case anything happens.

But a park…with no streetlights and only Caleb by my side. Caleb, whom I’d like to trust utterly and completely, but only knowing him for a short while sends warning flares through my head. One could never know…

Thing is, I want to. I want to be normal and go on a nice stroll with a nice man who’s been super polite all evening.

Since the moment Caleb picked me up, everything with him has been pleasant.

It’s been like being with a friend, from the comfortable drive to the restaurant, to the relaxing atmosphere he created.

A couple of small brushes or his hand on my lower back has been the entirety of his touching. A perfect gentleman. Nice.

Just nice.

Not explosive. Fiery. Passionate.

Nice might be what I need in life, however.

“It’s fine,” I mumble, but he doesn’t seem to really notice I’ve spoken.

Caleb continues driving for two more blocks until reaching the large expanse of land—well, as large as a park in downtown Toronto can be. He parallel parks using only the palm of his hand on the wheel, which I find entirely too distracting, because the last person I witnessed do that was?—

Nope. Stop. He can’t disrupt tonight. Again. My past will not ruin this possible future, like it has so many instances tonight.

Caleb slips out of his side and comes to mine all before I’m unbuckled. He helps me from the car but releases me once I’m on my feet.

“This way.” He leads me towards the park’s entrance and down the dimly lit path with grass on either side.

A few benches are scattered here and there along the path.

Birds chirp as they fly between trees, which provide a thick covering from the moonlight.

Squirrels and chipmunks scatter when we interrupt their property.

I hesitate at the entrance, chewing on my bottom lip and trying to recall every conversation with Ava I’ve ever had. To just go ahead and do this. It’s a walk; nothing nefarious.

Finally, I step onto the path with him.

“How’d you learn about this place?”

He glances over, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Would you think I’m a creep if I admitted to scouting it out earlier because I suspected dinner would end much too soon?”

“So I haven’t chased you away yet?”

“Far from.” He smiles, his body sidling closer. His arm brushes mine, and my head tips up. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want to kiss him?

I don’t think so.

A bird loudly chirps nearby, and Caleb pulls away with an embarrassed look before leading me farther down the pathway. I’m still determining whether or not I’m disappointed when he suddenly pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and then puts it back in his pocket.

“Have somewhere to be?”

“What?” He blinks. “Oh. No. Just curious how late it’s gotten, that’s all.”

Suddenly, my positive mood begins waning. He’s gone from prolonging the date to wanting it over? I tell myself he’s continuing to be a gentleman and is concerned over the time, considering we both have to be at work by eight tomorrow morning, but I don’t have to like it.

His pace increases, and I’m about to suggest we end this and he drop me off at my apartment.

He’s obviously in a rush, so continuing the date seems pointless—especially in an environment that has me nervous as is.

No point in prolonging this pain. It’s turning into a disappointing ending to an otherwise nice night.

Maybe this is why nice isn’t enough.

I swat the inner voice away and am about to make my suggestion when he abruptly snatches my hand, tugging me closer. We’re reaching a slight bend in the path, and he pulls us to a stop by the closest bench, shielded by two thick tree trunks.

“Let’s sit.”

His whiplash confuses me.

I sit, but he remains standing, his hands rubbing his thighs, gaze darting around.

“Caleb—”

Crack.

Caleb’s gaze darts to the tree and down the path, and my stomach sinks.

A prickle runs down my spine over the noise that should merely be an animal scurrying over fallen sticks and twigs.

He steps back, his expression pinching with sorrow, and I realize then with a chilling sensation I should have listened to my gut in the car and denied the walk.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Katya. I had to. For her.”

Her?

A figure steps out from the trees on my right, his large build a shadow itself. Everything inside me tenses while my legs scramble to find strength to stand, to run, especially now while the man—whoever he is—faces Caleb. I have no fucking clue what’s happening, but I suspect needing to run now .

He tosses something at Caleb, who catches the shiny object, tucking it away. The streetlight catches it at just the right angle to reveal it’s a key. The man rattles off an address, but it’s his voice that stuns me.

I know that voice.

“If I were you…” His slithery voice churns my insides with old threats, old fears. “I wouldn’t wait too long. My men get bored easily.”

Caleb bobs his head in quick succession and casts a final glance towards me. Before I make out his expression, he spins on his heel and takes off, disappearing almost instantly.

“People are so easy to bribe,” the man croons, turning to me, forcing me to face my past.

“Next time, take my money.”

Ivan Volkov stands before me, his body cast in both the shadows from the trees and the moon, but I also know he, too, is a shadow of pure evil. When he paces forward, he kicks down a few levels of my wall, sending a rush of emotions—namely fear—over it.

It’s been ten years since last seeing him—since graduation, when he offered money in exchange for leaving his son, but I didn’t take the deal.

Ten years since last hearing him speak, when he whispered those fateful words in my ear.

Ten years of working through the trauma he forced onto me, of endless therapy that even the sound of his voice sends me tripping into the horrors I’ve been fighting for control against.

The years passing are apparent in his body.

His wrinkles have become prominent with age, his skin shallower than I remember, and his body thinner.

Regardless of my self-defence training, he has decades of Bratva life versus my few months of mixed martial arts, of strength and knowledge I’ve yet to discover.

I’m fucked. Just like that night, I won’t be able to fight this. I’m not good enough. Not then, not now.

While I study him, he’s doing the same to me, his lips curling in the corners by the time they reach my feet. “Katya Terasov, you’ve grown up. Much less…broken…than when I last saw you.”

You’re sick.

But he’s a sick individual who’s seemingly alone, and no matter the reason he’s chosen now to reappear in my life, it doesn’t mean I’m the same girl he ruined back then. I won’t be waiting around for danger to smack me in the face again. If not to physically fight, then to use speed on my side.

I take off in the direction Caleb went, not because I believe the asshole will help me—clearly not, if he’s the reason I’m in this mess—but because it’s in the direction of a sure exit to a busy road.

I pump my arms and legs as fast as I can despite the heels I’m tempted to kick off. Maybe if I had the time to, but any pause in running is a second more he’ll use to catch up.

A second figure steps out from another tree, and though I try to duck around him, his muscled arm blocks me and bands around my waist, propelling me back the way I came regardless of my kicking and wailing, arms flailing as I resort to screeching for someone to overhear the attack.

My racing mind can’t focus, trying to recall the trainer’s lessons of where to hit and how, of pressure points and weak spots that’ll save me.

“Let me go!” My legs swing out, hitting and punching his arm, side, any part of him I can reach, only for him to continue blocking attempt after attempt as he hauls me back where Ivan waits. He deposits me back onto the same bench before moving to the side, standing guard.

“Now that you’ve gotten escaping out of your system, we can talk.”

Ivan Volkov doesn’t “talk” issues out. He abuses the other person until they fold to his whim. Besides, there’s only one person who links Ivan and me together, so I can already guess what the subject of this so-called conversation will be.

“About?” I ask carefully, resting my hands on the bench beside me.

“My son, of course. You’ve certainly played your part well. He’s become the man I always dreamed he would be, but now, I have use for you again.”

I regard the bodyguard beside me, shrinking away from what the “again” could possibly be. From that happening all over.

He’ll have to kill me first. Words I mean in my very soul. I’ll take the knife I notice strapped by his boot and slice my own throat before I let either man—or anyone else Ivan has around, for that matter—rape me.

“I haven’t seen your son in years.” Talking to Ava about Dimitri is one thing—a trusted source in a private office, but talking to his own father about him, as though nothing’s changed, is unsettling.

“Since you ended your relationship before moving, yes.” Ivan nods. “If only you could have guessed the two of you would end, no matter the path we took to get there. If you took my deal, you would have been a whole lot richer and whole lot…well, unbroken. Would have saved yourself all that pain.”

He’s baiting me, and no matter how much his words jab at my insides, I’ll let him spew his venom until he gets to the point. The more he talks, the less he acts, and the better off I am.

“Like I said, I haven’t seen him in years. Whatever he’s gotten himself into, I want no part of it.”

Ivan’s head ticks to the side. “You’re already a part of it. Now, I have business to do, so we have to get going.” He snaps his fingers.

“Going?” I’m so focused on Ivan, on gaining answers, I miss his soldier approaching.

I scramble to my feet, but he grips my upper arm to propel me closer. I throw an arm out, reaching for the sensitive place beneath his nose, but it’s a weak attempt backed by pointless fighting when he swings his hand near my neck and a prick jabs into my skin.

Blackness overwhelms me immediately, and I sleep.