Page 34 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

“What about the girl?” Maxim asks as we turn the corner. His voice drops a notch—more cautious now. “Violet.”

Right. Violet. My jaw tightens at the thought of her—curled up in that room with broken glass at her feet and fear in her eyes.

“Call Milo,” I say. “Tell him to move her to the south wing safe room. No windows. No exits. I want two guards on the door, cameras watching every angle, and full lockdown until I return.”

Maxim nods without hesitation.

“Then you and Arina meet me in the garage.”

I don’t wait for a reply. I storm down the hallway, fists clenched, blood boiling, fury simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.

Whoever tried to get to Violet is going to wish they had never drawn breath. Tonight, Rakin bleeds. And if there’s anyone else who’s betrayed me? They bleed too.

Moments later, we’re speeding down the road.

Maxim’s driving like the engine owes him something, chewing through lanes with his jaw clenched and eyes locked on the horizon. Arina’s up front in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through something on their tablet. Neither of them speaks.

They know I’m not in the mood for words.

I sit in the backseat, arms stretched out along the leather, the weight of my rage heavy enough to crush the roof. I stare out the window, but I’m not really seeing the streets blur by. I’m thinking about her.

Violet.

The glass exploding. Her scream. The panic in her eyes when I rushed into the room. I can still hear it. Feel it.

She could have been killed tonight.

That thought alone has my fingers twitching for a weapon. My tongue tastes like ash. I should’ve moved her to the safe room earlier. Should’ve never let her out of my sight. But I did. I got soft. Distracted.

And now someone thinks they can touch what’s mine.

No. Not “what.” Who. Violet.

I clench my jaw so hard it cracks in my ears.

This isn’t just about a leak. This isn’t just about a loose end. This is about someone getting too close. And now, someone’s going to pay the kind of price only I know how to extract.

We pull into the facility a few miles outside the city—a warehouse with reinforced steel doors and no neighbors for miles. Maxim parks, cuts the engine. We step out into the dry night air.

A soldier greets us at the entrance. He bows in my direction, nods at Maxim and Arina. “He’s in Cell B. Already strapped.”

Maxim leads the way, and the moment we walk through the corridor, I can feel the shift in the air. The tension. The fear. They know I’m not here for diplomacy.

Rakin is in the chair when we walk in. His head jerks up at the sound of our boots, and for a second, his face twists into something smug. Like he doesn’t realize what’s coming.

That changes the moment I step forward.

His eyes go wide. “Boss—Kaz—please—”

I hold up a hand, and silence falls like a guillotine. “You don’t speak unless I ask you to.”

I walk around him slowly, like a lion circling prey. “You know what the problem is with traitors, Rakin?” I ask, keeping my voice cool. “They never know when to shut the fuck up…and they never understand the consequences until it’s too late.”

He gulps, throat bobbing. Blood already lines his mouth, but that’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

Maxim stays by the door, arms crossed. Arina leans against the far wall, watching me with a calculating gaze. No smirks now. No jokes. They know what this means.

I stop in front of Rakin.