Page 32 of Prey of the Bratva

He didn’t stop me this time and didn’t reach for me again. He just stood there, exactly where I had pushed him, watchingme with something dark and unreadable in his eyes. It was not anger but something else. Something worse. My chest rose and fell faster than I liked, and I hated that he could see it. Hated that I could still feel the imprint of his hand against my skin.

Hated that for a second; I hadn’t wanted him to let go. The silence between us now was different. It was heavier and dangerous. Because we both knew exactly what had almost happened and neither of us could pretend it hadn’t.

“You’re a problem,” I said finally.

“So are you.”

“And yet here we are,” he added.

I let out a quiet breath, steadying myself.

“Yes,” I said. “Here we are.”

Enemies. Allies. Or something in between. Something worse. We stood in the same room, the space between us no longer neutral territory but something far more volatile. My pulse was still too fast, and his gaze felt intense. And whatever this was, whatever it had turned into, it wasn’t just about control anymore. It wasn’t just about strategy. It wasn’t even just about survival. It was something far more dangerous.

And we both knew it.

Chapter 8 - Kliment

“If I am being honest, boss, this does not look like a breach. This is clearly a message.”

The line crackled through the phone, distorted by distance but sharp enough to cut through everything else. I was already on my feet before the call ended, my mind working quicker than it had in days. I needed to be there.

“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice steady as I reached for my jacket, putting it on with the other hand.

Domonique paused, and his voice came back quieter, a lot more controlled, “Nico and Jarek are already here. They are holding the fort along with our armies. Things are contained, but they might escalate anytime.”

“And who’s on the other side?”

There was another pause, much longer this time.

“The Chernykh brothers. Iosif and Avgust are here with their soldiers.”

Of course they were. I ended the call without another word, my blood boiling at the news I had just received. The safe house door shut behind me with a quiet click that felt far too soft for what was about to happen. Within seconds, I was in the car, engine turning over smoothly beneath my hands as I pulled onto the road without hesitation. The drive to the port blurred into instinct with turns that were taken too fast, lights that were ignored, and distance that collapsed under urgency that I refused to name as anything emotional.

This wasn’t anger or panic, but it was simply control under pressure. Although something beneath it pulsed harder than it should have. It was because the Chernykhs were movingnow, and their timing was all wrong. It was because Misha was still in my house, and that changed everything. The only thing they didn’t know was that she was there of her own will and that it was up to her; she didn’t even intend for them to find out.

By the time I arrived, the air was already thick with gunpowder. It was not chaos or minor disorder but a full-blown war being waged at my doorstep. I stepped out of the car into the sharp echo of gunfire cutting across concrete and steel. The Romanov storage yard stretched ahead, its dark structures lit by scattered floodlights. I could see shadows breaking under movement and men positioned with deliberate coordination rather than blind aggression.

Nico stood near the central loading bay, issuing orders with calm efficiency. His movements were measured even as bullets tore through the space around him. I had always admired that about him. He never broke. No matter how hard things got. Jarek was further forward, closer to the open yard, as he fired with controlled brutality. His stance was aggressive but not reckless, and I was not worried about him. He had always been good with weapons, fighting from the front lines as if he belonged there.

They were holding everything efficiently, but we still were not winning. The Chernykhs weren’t either. Iosif and Avgust stood across the yard, refusing to hide behind cover. They didn’t need to. Iosif stood slightly behind the line, posture relaxed in a way that meant nothing about him was relaxed at all. His presence alone shifted the atmosphere, quiet authority cutting through the violence like a blade. Avgust moved differently. He was faster and sharper, his focus locked onto targets with lethal intent as he directed their side forward.

This wasn’t a raid. It was a statement. And they had chosen the wrong place to make it.

I stepped forward into the open, right in their line of sight. I was not being cautious, and I was certainly not trying to hide. But I was deliberately visible. I knew they were here for me. Gunfire didn’t stop around us, but it shifted as attention moved. Because now I was a part of it. Nico saw me first, but his expression didn’t change, even though something in his posture tightened. Jarek swore under his breath, reloading with a sharp movement before glancing in my direction.

“What the hell took you so long?”

His question cut off as a shot rang closer than the others, forcing him to duck behind cover. I didn’t respond because Iosif was already looking at me, and the moment his gaze locked onto mine, the entire fight seemed to narrow into something far more focused. He stepped forward carefully, neither rushing nor reacting. Avgust followed half a step behind, his weapon still raised, but his attention shifting as well. The distance between us wasn’t small, but it didn’t matter anymore.

We weren’t speaking to be heard. We were speaking to be understood.

“Where is she?”

Iosif clearly didn’t waste time. There was no greeting or buildup, but just the heaviness of the question hanging between us. I let out a quiet breath that might have passed for a laugh. I already knew they were here for Misha, and according to them, Misha was with me. Even my own brothers believed this to be true, so I could not really blame anyone else.

“You came all the way here,” I said, my voice carrying just enough, “to ask me that?”