Page 65 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

And all I’d done was paint a target on Drew’s back.

***

The apartment door opened hours later, and Drew walked in, his face tight, his jaw clenched.

He didn’t look at me. Just headed straight for the kitchen, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one swallow.

Something was wrong.

“Drew?” I stood up from the couch, my heart pounding. “What happened?”

“Rafael got a tip.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “About an ambush. Warehouse district. Midnight.”

My stomach dropped.

“We showed up ready. Caught them off guard.” He poured another drink, his knuckles white around the glass. “Three of them dead. The rest ran.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“Someone warned him,” Drew continued, finally looking at me. His gray eyes were cold. Searching. “Someone knew about the ambush and tipped Rafael off.”

“That’s good, right?” I forced the words out, tried to sound normal. “It saved lives.”

“It did.” He set the glass down, his gaze never leaving mine. “But Rafael wants to know who sent the tip. And more importantly, how they knew about it in the first place.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

“Do they have any leads?” I asked, hating how weak my voice sounded.

“Not yet.” Drew crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “But they will. Rafael doesn’t let things like this go.”

I nodded, my throat tight.

He kept watching me, his expression unreadable. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Cassandra.” His voice dropped. “If you know something—anything—about what happened, you need to tell me. Now.”

“I don’t know anything,” I lied, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

But I could see it in his eyes. The doubt. The suspicion.

He didn’t believe me.

And soon, neither would Rafael.

***

That night, I lay awake in Drew’s bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.

I’d crossed the line. Betrayed Vance. Saved Bratva.

But it wasn’t over.

Vance knew. Or at least suspected. And he wasn’t going to let this go.

Rafael was hunting for answers. And when he found them—when he traced that anonymous tip back to me—I was dead.