Page 33 of Sexting the Bratva Boss (Text to Touch)

Because I discovered I could no longer imagine life without her.

This realization hit me like lightning. Somehow, without my noticing, this stubborn little wildcat had become an essential part of my existence.

I loved her. This love came so violently, completely beyond my control. It made seeing Eva hurt even slightly feel like I couldn't breathe.

I took a deep breath and continued bandaging her wound with medical gauze. After finishing, I sat beside her.

"Eva, there are things I need to tell you." I looked into her eyes. Exposing those dark truths to daylight wasn't easy, but she deserved to know.

"What things?" Her eyes were full of concern.

"About my identity." I paused. "I'm not just the CEO of Yvann Group."

"I know," she quietly interrupted.

I was stunned. "You know?"

"Ivanka told me." She looked at me calmly. "At the charity gala that night, she told me about your special identity. You're the bratva boss, right?"

I nodded, complex emotions swirling inside me. She'd known all along but still chose to stay with me.

"Aren't you afraid? Of what I am?"

"Why should I be afraid?" she asked back. "You've always been good to me. I know that."

Her words were like sunshine illuminating the darkest corners of my heart. I reached up to cup her face, thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"You don't know what this means," my voice grew hoarse. "Today was just the beginning. I have too many enemies—Joseph, Casimir, others who covet my position. They'll all see you as a target to attack me."

"Joseph? Casimir?" She frowned.

"Joseph Monteiro—current head of the Monteiro Family.

They're like us, built their power on arms dealing.

They used to be our most competitive rival, but they've been declining for years.

We've left them far behind in weapons channels and quality.

Even though they've gotten into drugs, they're not much of a threat.

" I spoke slowly, carefully answering Eva's questions.

"I intercepted an important arms deal of Joseph's recently.

He's held a grudge ever since. But his move against us isn't just about that—he's wanted my weapons connections for a long time. "

I continued, "As for Casimir, he's my half-brother."

Seeing her surprised expression, I smiled bitterly.

"I told you before that my parents had an open relationship.

" I saw Eva nod, so I continued. "My family was complicated.

My father was the previous boss—a lifelong playboy with bastards everywhere.

He brought the ones he considered promising back to be trained in the family. Casimir was one of them."

I gripped her hand tighter. "When Father stepped down, he passed the position to me.

Casimir was supposedly sent to assist me, but really he was Father's spy, a reminder that if I didn't perform well enough, someone could replace me anytime.

After my father died, Casimir's ambition for my position grew stronger. "

Eva's hand squeezed mine back, giving me strength.

"My mother was a St. Petersburg aristocrat. Her marriage to my father was just a transaction. Father had countless mistresses, and mother had her own lovers too."

Mentioning my mother made my expression even more complex. I laughed self-deprecatingly. "When I was very young, I saw my mother bring her young lover home while my father was flirting with his new favorite in the study. That's when I understood how twisted my family really was."

Eva looked at me with heartbreak, gripping my hand even tighter in silent comfort.

I wasn't planning to tell her about the darker things—like how Father trained me to be his heir.

Father's first step in grooming me was finding a mentor—a man named Victor. He'd been an elite KGB agent before becoming father's most loyal shadow. No expressions, no emotions—like a precision killing machine .

He first taught me hand-to-hand combat. After a few days, my body was covered in injuries—he never held back.

Soon came real combat in the forest outside the main house. My opponent was one of Father's bastard sons—I don't remember his name, only the killing intent blazing in his eyes. It was a signal that this was life or death. I realized the "combat practice" had no mercy—only the survivor would win.

He attacked first with lightning speed—vicious punches and kicks all aimed at vital points.

His fighting style was full of street brutality and cunning.

I didn't panic. Victor's hellish training showed its value.

I protected my upper body with both arms, retreating nimbly while blocking and deflecting his vicious attacks.

My arms went numb from the kicks, but I maintained a complete defensive posture, coldly observing tiny gaps in his attack rhythm. When he used a high roundhouse kick, I seized my chance. I stopped retreating, stepped forward, ducked under his leg, and drove my right fist upward into his jaw.

The impact snapped his head back, breaking his attack rhythm. I immediately pressed forward with a combination Victor had taught me, raining blows on his body. But he was like an unkillable wild dog with amazing resilience. He absorbed several heavy hits and suddenly grabbed my waist.

We grappled together—no longer a contest of skill, but a grinding battle of will and stamina.

Every breath tasted of blood, every muscle ache challenged my nerves.

In the chaotic struggle, I found an opening and used a shoulder throw to slam him hard to the ground.

I could hear the sound of his spine hitting the earth.

Before he could rise, I pressed my knee into his chest and locked my arms around his throat like iron clamps.

He struggled violently, clawing desperately at my body.

I put all my weight into it, increasing pressure on my arms. His struggles gradually weakened, his face changing from red to purple, eyes rolling back.

Just when I thought it was almost over, one hand slid toward his back.

Alarm bells rang in my head—too late. A flash of steel.

The sound of blade tearing flesh was terrifyingly clear as agony shot through my entire body.

Looking down, I saw a short knife buried in my chest. He grinned with savage satisfaction, using all his strength to drive the blade deeper.

I endured the pain and released my chokehold to pull back, but the knife still carved from my chest to my abdomen.

Time seemed to slow. Dizziness from blood loss and death's shadow attacked simultaneously. But at the same time, greater power exploded from my body's depths—adrenaline and ultimate survival instinct. I gripped his knife hand with both hands as my blood flowed down the handle.

Using near self-destructive force, I twisted his wrist upward. The crack of breaking bone echoed as he screamed in agony and dropped the weapon. I grabbed the knife and, without hesitation, drove it into his heart. Light faded quickly from his eyes as he lost all life.

I tore fabric from his shirt to bind my wound and prevent death from blood loss. Later, Victor took me back to the main house, then mother sent me to the hospital.

After I healed, my training entered the next phase. Victor taught me firearms—I quickly hit eight or nine out of ten. Next, Victor gave me targets who were traitors, and I could execute them without changing expression. Killing that bastard had awakened my dark side completely.

"Ruslan, are you okay?" I came back to reality to see Eva's worried eyes.

I forced a smile. "I'm fine." But my voice was unusually hoarse.

Buzz— My phone vibrated on the table.