Page 101 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

I stare at the food, unmoving. Despite how weak and hungry I am, there’s no way I’m touching that. My fingers drift down to my stomach, curling over the slight swell that feels more precious than ever.

“He’ll come for us,” I whisper, barely audible. “He always does.”

I exhale slowly, trying to steady the tremor in my hands.

“And even if he doesn’t…we’ll get out of here ourselves,” I murmur. “Right? We’ll be okay.”

The guard lets out a low, dry laugh from across the room. Mocking.

“You really think that?” he says, making me wonder how he heard me from all the way across. “That some Bratva fool is going to come charging in here like a knight? Please. He probably sold you out himself.”

I don’t believe that. I know, for a moment, it crossed my head, but I know better. But the accusation doesn’t sit right with me, so I pick up the plate from the table, balancing it on my lap.

“You think Kaz is the kind of man who sells people out?”

“I think he’s the kind of man who uses people,” the guard says with a sneer. “He’s not coming. Nobody is.”

I laugh lightly, and the sound seems to catch him off guard.

“You’re brave, talking like that,” I say, holding the plate up. “But you’re here…what? Guarding a chained woman in a basement? That’s what you do?”

He bristles.

I tilt my head, feigning curiosity. “This broth…it smells like shit.”

“What?”

I wrap my hand around the spoon and pretend I want to unscrew the cuff around my ankles. Stupid bastard. He falls for it and hurries forward. “Hey! Stop!”

When he’s close enough, I fling the plate directly at his face. The ceramic shatters against his head, and the food splashes across his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He yells, stumbling back, cursing and wiping his face.

In that moment, I lunge forward, my fingers tightening around the spoon like a blade. The chain on my ankle yanks me back before I can fully rise, but I don’t care. I slash—hard—across his face.

He stumbles back with a growl, a red welt already rising across his cheek. “You little bitch—”

The slap comes hard and fast. My head snaps sideways, pain exploding through my jaw. I taste blood.

“Behave yourself,” he snarls, looming over me. “My job is to keep you alive and pretty. I don’t want to hurt you….” His smile is cruel. “Not unless I have to. Don’t act stupid before the auction.”

I blink at him, my breath catching. “What…what auction?”

He laughs, and the sound is worse than the slap. Cold. Confident. Delighted by my confusion. “Oh, you don’t know?” He shakes his head like it’s adorable. “Arina was right. You’re definitely beautiful. Exotic. Priceless, even—especially because you’re his.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. My mind is spinning, trying to catch up.

“You’re Kazimir Rusnak’s woman,” he continues. “You think no one wants a piece of that? You think his enemies won’t line up to bid on you just for the pleasure of breaking what he loves?”

My throat closes. The words don’t feel real.

Tonight.

Tonight?

A sickening wave rolls through me as everything clicks into place—the burner phone, Arina, my last argument with Kaz. How didn’t this click sooner?

Kaz didn’t lie to me.

He tried to protect me.