Page 64 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

“Hello?”

“You fed them.” His voice sliced through the line, cold and deadly. No greeting. No pretense. “You tipped Rafael off.”

My blood turned to ice.

“What are you talking about?” I tried to sound confused, but my voice shook.

“Don’t play dumb, Cassandra.” His tone dropped, lethal and terrifying. “My men were supposed to hit that warehouse at midnight. They were waiting. And Rafael’s crew showed up with fucking reinforcements like they had a goddamn script.”

My chest constricted. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” He cut me off, his voice rising. “You warned them. And now three of my men are dead, and the rest barely made it out alive.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach, sharp and unforgiving.

Three men dead. Because of me.

Not Bratva this time. Vance’s men.

And I didn’t know how to feel about that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “I gave you the intel. If your men screwed up, that’s not on me.”

“You’re lying.” His voice turned venomous. “And if you think you can betray me and walk away, you’re stupider than I thought.”

“I didn’t betray you—”

“Your boyfriend, Drew.” He spat the name like poison. “If he keeps sniffing too close, I’ll make sure he never even sees the Kamarov you’re carrying.”

The threat hit me like a physical blow.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, protective and terrified.

“You stay away from him,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You stay away from both of us.”

Vance laughed, cold and humorless. “You don’t give me orders, Cassandra. You work for me. And if you’ve forgotten that, I’ll be happy to remind Rafael exactly who you are and what you’ve done.”

The line went dead.

I sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, my entire body shaking.

He knew.

Maybe not everything. Maybe not the full extent of what I’d done.

But he knew enough.

And now he was threatening Drew. Threatening my baby.

Threatening everything I cared about.

I dropped the phone onto the couch, pressed my hands over my face, and let out a shaky breath that sounded too much like a sob.

What had I done?

I’d tried to protect them. Tried to do the right thing for once in my miserable life.