Page 24 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

That shouldn’t do anything to me. But it does.

I swallow hard—not just the food, but the emotion rising with it. Confusion. Tension. Something I don’t want to name.

The spell between us shatters the moment my eyes land on the steak knife resting innocently on the tray beside the untouched food. It’s within reach. Close. Tempting. I don’t think—I just act.

In one swift motion, I grab it and lunge.

But Kaz is faster.

His hand shoots up like a reflex, catching my wrist mid-air before the blade even gets near him. His grip is like iron, unflinching, and he twists—not hard, just enough to send pain shooting up my arm and make the knife clatter to the floor.

I gasp, more in disbelief than pain. I hadn’t even seen him move.

He stares at me, expression unreadable, then calmly pushes me back against the bed. The mattress dips beneath me as he pins me down with one hand pressed flat on my chest—not hurting, just holding. His body looms over mine, and his voice is low, calm, terrifying in its steadiness.

“You need to learn,solnyshko,” he says. “Everything in this house listens to me. And soon…you will too.”

I spit the words at him. “I’ll die before I obey you.”

His gaze narrows, the cold blue of his eyes darkening, not with anger but something worse—certainty.

“We’ll see,” he murmurs.

And then he rises without another word, steps toward the door, picks up the fallen knife, and slips it into his coat pocket like it’s just another part of the day. He looks at me one last time before stepping out.

Click.

The lock echoes behind him, and I’m alone again.

Chapter 6 – Kaz

It’s been one week.

One whole week since I brought Violet into this villa.

And every fucking day since then, I’ve questioned myself.

What the hell am I doing?

This isn’t how I work—keeping liabilities close, housing loose ends under my own goddamn roof. My entire life has been built on precision, control, elimination of threats. Violet Harrison is a threat to my insanity, no matter how soft her voice or innocent her eyes might be.

But even now, as I sit in my office, screens glowing in front of me, I know the truth.

I can’t let her go.

Even if I wanted to.

I lean back in the leather chair, eyes fixed on the monitor showing her in real-time. She’s pacing. Again. Back and forth across the polished floor, barefoot, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her hair’s a little messy. She hasn’t even noticed the book on the table waiting for her.

She’s not doing anything. But I can’t look away.

It’s pathetic.

I’mpathetic.

I should be in meetings. Planning hits. Running operations. But ever since she stepped foot into this place, I haven’t been able to stay away from the cameras for longer than one hour.

I watch her like she’s a drug I can’t quit.