Page 9 of Stalked & Bred by the BRATVA (Bred by the BRATVA #6)

I don’t expect to see him.

The morning starts like any other. The smell of coffee and baking bread drifts from the kitchen as I pass, my arms full of folded tablecloths for the dining room. The early sunlight filters through the tall windows in long golden beams, catching the dust motes in the air. It’s almost peaceful.

Until it isn’t.

I step into the main corridor that leads toward the library and feel it before I see him, that strange heaviness, the quiet that settles like the air before a storm. My feet slow, my grip on the linen tightening until my knuckles ache.

He’s standing at the far end of the hall.

This time, there’s no shadow to blur the edges of him. The morning light is merciless, spilling over broad shoulders and a suit so sharply cut it looks like it could slice through the air. His hair is dark, neatly combed back, the kind of style that makes you notice the lines of his face.

And what a face. Strong, stark angles. Eyes that don’t waver from mine for a second. There’s no smile, no nod, no sign of anything but an unbroken stare.

I should look away. I should keep walking. But something about the way he stands there, still, rooted, as if this entire hallway belongs to him, pins me in place.

It’s him.

I know it in my bones, the same way I know when someone is standing too close behind me. The man from the hallway the other night. The one who didn’t move until I saw him. The one who turned and walked away without a word.

He takes a step forward.

It’s not loud, but the sound seems to echo anyway. His gaze never leaves mine. Another step. My heart is thudding so hard it’s all I can hear.

I want to back up, to put space between us, but my feet won’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, every muscle in my body caught between the urge to run and the need to stand my ground.

When he’s halfway down the hall, someone calls my name from the dining room. The sound breaks whatever strange hold was between us. I turn my head toward the voice, just for a second, and when I look back…He’s gone.

The hallway is empty.

The tablecloths feel heavier in my arms now, my chest tight with something I can’t name. Fear. Curiosity. Maybe both.

I keep walking, but the air feels different. As if I’ve stepped out of something and into something else entirely, and for the rest of the day, I can still feel his eyes on me.