Page 47 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

“What the fuck,” I mutter as Maxim slows the car. The sensors should have triggered an alert. The gate only opens by command—or by force.

And there are no commands tonight.

My hand flies to my side holster, instincts crackling like electricity. Just then, Arina’s voice cuts through the car radio, sharp and strained. “Kaz, do not enter casually. We’ve had a breach. Someone tripped the perimeter alarm five minutes ago. I’ve already sent teams, but you and Violet need to be very careful.”

My jaw clenches.

A breach tonight, after everything? After I took her out of the compound for one damn hour?

Violet tenses beside me, picking up on my energy even before she hears the message. Her eyes dart to mine, wide and questioning.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, even though I’m not sure it is. “I’ve got you.”

Maxim grips the wheel tighter. “We going in?”

I nod once. “Slow. Quiet. And be ready.”

Because whoever had the audacity to break into my home while I had her out here…is about to find out exactly what kind of hell they just stepped into.

Chapter 11 – Violet

The house is chaos.

From the moment the car rolls to a stop at the edge of the estate, I can feel the shift in energy—it’s sharp and tense. Guards rush across the grounds, weapons drawn, voices clipped over radios. Kaz doesn’t hesitate. He grips my hand and pulls me through a narrow gate on the side, one I didn’t even know existed, and we slip in through the shadows—away from the noise, away from the unknown.

We enter through a back corridor, his pace fast but controlled, and his grip never loosens from mine. I can barely keep up, my breath short, heart hammering against my ribs. Something is wrong. Deeply wrong.

Kaz doesn’t stop until we’re inside a bedroom I’ve never seen before.

His.

It’s colder than mine, more minimalist. Darker tones. Stark. Intimidating, just like him—but not in a bad way. The windows are heavily draped, the walls lined with shelves and security monitors. A fortress disguised as a bedroom.

He turns to me, jaw tight. “You stay in here. Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me. Understood?”

I nod—because what else can I do? But as he reaches for the door, panic wraps around my ribs and I blurt out, “Don’t go.”

He pauses.

And I do something I don’t even understand.

I step forward and wrap my arms around him from behind, pressing my forehead between his shoulder blades. “Please,” I whisper. “Just stay a little longer.”

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat.

Then, slowly, he pries my hands off, but only so he can turn around and hold me properly. One arm wraps around my waist, the other cradles the back of my head.

“You’re safe in here,” he says softly, and for once, there’s no hardness in his voice. “I swear it. I’ll come back for you.”

I look up at him. “Promise?”

His thumb brushes my cheek. “I never break my promises, Violet.”

And then he’s gone. I lock the door. And all I can do now…is wait. The fear starts with a bang. A sharp, echoing crack from somewhere deep within the house. Then another. Then gunshots.

Followed by shouting—muffled, chaotic, overlapping in a way that sets every nerve in my body on fire. I stagger away from the door, my chest heaving as I back into a wall, fingers curling into fists.

I haven’t heard sounds like that in…God, over a year. Not since my last on-the-ground murder report. Not since I thought I was brave enough to be anywhere near real violence.