Page 32 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

I feel…breathless.

And furious. At him—for leaving. At myself—for wanting him to stay. What is wrong with me?

How does he seem to have more control than I do?

I’m the one who was kidnapped. I’m the one locked away. I should be the one with all the righteous anger and zero confusion.

And yet….

All I can think about is the way he saidnever be able to let you go. And the worst part? Some tiny, screwed-up part of me liked the sound of it.

God help me.

Because I think I’m losing my mind.

I bolt out of the study moments after Kaz disappears, my cheeks burning, my heart still thrumming with the heat of that kiss. I don’t stop to think—I just run.

By the time I make it to my room, I slam the door shut behind me, wishing I could lock it, but it only locks from the outside. I head straight for the closet.

I need to talk to Noelle. I need to hear her voice, ask why she’s not responding to me, remind myself that the real world still exists, that I’m not going completely insane inside this twisted mansion. I need to beg her to please find a way to get me out of here before I completely develop Stockholm syndrome.

I crouch down and reach behind the stacked shoeboxes where I earlier tucked the burner phone Arina gave me. But in my haste, my arm knocks into another one of the boxes. It crashes with a thud. A shoe rolls out.

And something else falls with it. Another phone. My breath catches. It’s not mine. I stare at it like it might explode. It’s a different make. Different model. Sleek. Black. No identifying stickers or marks.

I don’t touch it. I don’t have to. Because I already know—I’ve never seen this before. And Arina definitely didn’t give it to me.

This wasn’t here yesterday. I’m sure of it. A sick, icy chill curls up my spine. Someone else has been in here. Someone else planted this.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to slow my breathing, but the air is suddenly too tight to swallow. My throat burns. My instincts scream at me not to touch the phone. Not to call attention to it. Not to say a word.

Kaz can’t know. Because if he didn’t plant it…someone else did. And that means someone else is watching me, too.

I slowly pick up the shoebox and shove the fallen shoe and the mystery phone back inside, burying it like it’s a loaded gun. I don’t know who to trust anymore.

As I’m still contemplating this, I hear a knock come from the direction of the living room. I frown. Who could it be? Kaz and Arina don’t knock before barging in.

I shove the burner phone back into the closet, burying it deep in the corner behind a pile of sweaters, my pulse poundingin my ears. I’m back in my room when I realize the knock wasn’t coming from the door, it was on the window.

My blood runs cold.

The window is supposed to be bolted shut. I checked it when I arrived. Multiple times. There’s no balcony. No ledge. Nothing.

Wait—is it a bird? Maybe. I relax a little.

Another knock. Louder this time. Before I can take one step toward it, the glass shatters loudly. Glass everywhere.

Daggers fly through the air, glinting silver under the morning light. One slices clean through the edge of the curtain, embedding into the headboard beside me.

I scream.

I barely have time to think, to breathe, when the door slams open with a thunderous crack.

Kaz.

He’s at the window in seconds, gun drawn, all grace and danger. He doesn’t speak—just scans the shattered glass, eyes wild, furious, calculating.

I’m still on the floor, shaking. My ears are ringing. There’s glass everywhere.