Page 26 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

She wants a reaction. She’s trying to provoke me. Push me. Break me. I stare at the screen—at the wicked glint in her eyes and the cruel twist of her mouth—and I breathe through it.

Because this game? She just changed the rules. And she has no fucking idea what she’s started.

Violet moves with slow, mocking grace, her eyes never leaving the camera. She climbs back onto the bed—on her knees this time—and arches her spine in a deliberately obscene way. Her thin tank top rides up as she shifts, exposing the smooth line of her waist, her thighs parted just enough to make the image burn.

She leans forward on her hands, her chest heaving slightly from the effort, her hair spilling like ink over one shoulder. Then she tilts her head to the side and gives the camera a poisonous little smile.

“Is this what you want, Kaz?” she purrs. “Is this what you’re into? Me on my knees? All freaky and helpless for your viewing pleasure?”

She slides a hand down her side and spreads her fingers just over her stomach, her voice dropping into a silky dare. “I can keep going, if you’re enjoying yourself. Maybe moan your name next. That’s what you want, right? To feel like you’re in control of something? It’s all you’re good for anyway.”

My jaw clenches so hard I hear a crack.

My blood is lava.

I grip the edge of the desk, veins rising against my skin as I fight every urge in my body. But I’m too angry. Too turned on.

I don’t even realize I’ve stood up until I’m already storming down the hallway. My fists are clenched, heart pounding, fury bleeding into desire, and I don’t stop. I don’t knock.

I open the door to her room.

She jerks upright on the bed like she’s been caught in a trap. The smugness drains from her face, and her spine straightens like a steel rod as her eyes lock onto mine.

Good.

I step in slowly. Deliberately. The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn the lock with an unmistakable snap.

She starts shifting back on the bed as I approach, crawling toward the headboard like she’s trying to disappear into the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. I don’t say a word. Not yet. I just keep moving until I’m right in front of her, towering over her while she sits trembling on the mattress.

I can see the way her chest rises and falls. The slight shake in her fingers. But her chin stays up. Her eyes stay locked on mine. Always so defiant.

I lean in, planting a hand on the headboard beside her head, the other on the mattress beside her thigh, caging her in.

“Stop playing with fire, Violet.”

She swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I tilt my head, gaze dragging over her flushed cheeks, her parted lips. “Yes, you do.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“You think I haven’t been good to you?” I murmur, voice low and deadly calm. “I haven’t laid a finger on you. I’ve given you food, clothes, comfort. I’ve given you space.”

I lean closer until my lips are near her ear. “But that ends the second you push me too far.”

She stiffens. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” I whisper, dragging my gaze back to hers, “if you keep testing me, you’re going to find out what happens when I stop trying to be good.”

Violet blinks, and for the first time tonight, her mouth stays shut.

Good.

Let her feel the weight of what she’s doing.

Because I swear to God…if she tempts me again like that—I won’t be able to hold back. And we both know it.

I pull her phone from my coat and toss it onto the bed. It lands beside her like a final warning.