Page 27 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

She snatches it up like I just handed her a piece of her freedom. Her face lights up for a second—hope, stupid and naïve. She unlocks it, starts scrolling.

It doesn’t take her long.

No contacts. No photos. No apps.

Just one file.

She opens it.

Her breath hitches when she sees the photo. It’s her. Sleeping. Peacefully. Curled beneath those damn sheets like she’s never tasted fear.

I watch her stare at it, then stare at me.

“You’ve been…watching me while I sleep?” Her voice shakes. She’s horrified.

I don’t even blink. “That’s the least of what I could be doing.”

She squeezes the phone like she’s trying to crush it in her hand. “You’re sick.”

I take a slow step forward. She stiffens. Good.

I stop just short of her and let my voice drop.

“Be careful,malyshka,” I murmur, eyes fixed on her mouth. “If you keep this going, watching you sleep might be the least of the things I do to you.”

Her pupils flare. She flinches—just a little—but she doesn’t look away. God, she’s brave. Stupid, reckless, and brave. And she still doesn’t get it. She’s mine.

Every breath. Every blink. Every shiver crawling down her spine—I own it now.

She just hasn’t figured it out yet. I have nothing but time. I decide to walk away, before she pushes me over the precipice of my lust.

I’m two steps from the door, my hand already curling around the knob, when I hear her voice behind me.

“Wait.”

I stop.

Of course I do.

I turn halfway and look at her over my shoulder. She’s standing now, the thin material of her shirt wrinkled from her grip, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“I’m losing my mind in here,” she says. “This room—these walls—I feel like I’m suffocating. You want to keep me here? Fine. But at least let me out of this room.”

My jaw tightens.

She adds, “I won’t try to run. I just…I need air. I need something else. Please.”

She’s not crying. She’s not begging. And that’s what makes me say yes.

“You can walk around the house,” I say slowly, like I’m warning a child near a fire. “But don’t even think about escaping.”

I watch her expression shift—hope trying to bloom, but my warning clips its wings before it can take off.

“I mean it, Violet,” I say, fully turning now. “If you so much as breathe in the direction of a locked door or open window, I’ll put you back in this room and chain the fucking door shut.”

Her eyes flash at that, but she nods once.

I nod back, my voice a low growl. “Tomorrow morning. Be ready. Get some sleep tonight.”