Page 82 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

The weight of it all presses down on me again, and my voice lowers into something dangerous. “I want to cut their head off.”

“No,” Niko says sharply. “Not yet.”

I spin toward him. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because you already fucked up with Milos,” he snaps. “You let your fury blind you, Kaz. I don’t need you making another mistake.”

“I’m not wrong this time.”

“Maybe not. But we need proof. Undeniable. Inarguable. You want vengeance? Fine. But make it bulletproof. Because if you go after Arina and you’re wrong again—”

“I’m not,” I say. “My gut tells me I’m not.”

I press both hands to the desk, grounding myself in the wood, in the cold weight of the phone between us. I want to scream. I want to kill.

“I’m confronting them tonight, and you’re coming with me.”

Niko rolls his eyes. “This is not the vacation I planned for.”

“Can you fix the phone?” I ask.

Niko groans and leans back, arms crossed. He repeats, “This is not the vacation I planned for.”

“Can you fix the phone?” I ask, motioning to the burner. “Strip it. Rebuild it. I want to give it back to Violet.”

He picks it up and turns it over with nimble fingers, expression shifting from amusement to complete focus. “Gimme a minute.”

Niko plugs the phone into my laptop again. His brows furrow as he types rapidly, muttering under his breath. I pace behind him, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

After a few tense minutes, he finally leans back in his chair. “Alright, lover boy. I’ve unplugged the location beacon. Whoever was tracking Violet through this thing won’t be able to anymore.”

I stop pacing. “And the rest?”

“I converted it into a two-way communicator,” he says, tossing it to me. “You can call, receive, send—everything. All back to normal.”

I catch it mid-air. “You’re a fucking magician.”

“I know,” Niko says, smug. “So what next?”

“Hold on.” I pull out my main phone and dial Maxim. He picks up on the second ring, his voice steady.

“Boss.”

“Where are you?” I ask.

“We’re back at the estate.”

His voice doesn’t waver, but I hear movement in the background—footsteps, maybe doors shutting.

“Is Arina there too?”

“Yeah,” Maxim says. “They’re here.”

I nod slowly, even though he can’t see me. My hand clenches around the phone. “I’m on my way.”

I hang up and turn to Niko, steel in my voice. “Let’s go.”

But Niko leans back in his chair, unhurried. “No thanks. I’ve had my share of watching you dramatically beat up someone for one night.”