Page 39 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

“Hey,” I say, standing slowly.

Arina doesn’t answer right away. They just study me for a second—like they’re trying to figure out how to say something without making it worse.

“Everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. “You look…not like you.”

That pulls a soft, hollow laugh from them. “Yeah. That’s because things aren’t okay.”

They cross the room and sit on the edge of the chaise by the window, exhaling hard.

“I didn’t come here to cheer you up,” they say. “I came because you need to know the truth.”

My spine straightens. “Okay….”

Arina runs a hand over their cropped blond hair, black nail polish chipped. “You weren’t supposed to matter this much, Violet.”

The words hit like a slap. “What?”

“To Kaz,” they clarify. “You weren’t supposed to be more than a problem. A loose end. But now….”

They trail off.

“What?” I push.

“Now he’s unraveling.”

Silence stretches between us.

“You think I don’t see it?” Arina continues. “The way he watches those cameras. The way he talks to himself when you cry. The way he almost beat a man to death today, just because you were in danger? Kaz doesn’t lose control. He doesn’t panic. But you…you make him forget who he is.”

I stare at the floor, fingers curling into the fabric of my dress.

“And that’s a bad thing?” I whisper.

“Yes,” Arina says. “Because Kaz can’t afford to forget who he is. He has too many enemies watching him. Waiting for themoment he slips. And you”—they motion toward me— “you’ve become the slip.”

I swallow hard. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Arina says gently. “And I know you didn’t do anything wrong. But this world—his world—doesn’t care about right or wrong. It only cares about weakness. And you’ve become his.”

I don’t know how to respond.

I don’t even know how to feel.

Because for the first time, I wonder if caring for Kaz is as dangerous for me as it is for him. I sit beside Arina on the chaise, the room suddenly feeling too quiet. Too still.

Their words keep circling my brain like sharks—you’ve become the slip.

But there’s something else that’s been bothering me more.

That one sentence Kaz said. The one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since it left his lips.

“Kaz said something to me.” I turn to Arina. “I need to know what it means.”

They frown. “What did he say?”

“He said he saw me before I knew his name,” I press. “That wasn’t just some poetic Mafia thing, right? He meant it literally.”

Arina doesn’t respond immediately. They bite the inside of their cheek, tattoos rippling as their jaw tenses.