Page 37 of Prey of the Bratva

“You’ll live,” I said, leaning back just enough to assess my work. “Unfortunately.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before moving back to my eyes.

“That almost sounded like concern. Am I dreaming?”

“It was not.”

“Misha,” he uttered my name softly. Too softly. “Why are you hiding from them?”

The question landed between us with quiet precision, but I did not answer immediately. Instead, I stood up, moving towards the counter to dispose of the used gauze, buying myself a second of distance. Of space and control. When I turned back, he was still watching me as if waiting for me to answer. I tilted my head slightly, not knowing what to say. It was not as if he hadn’t asked this question of me before. In fact, he had been asking it since day one, but today it felt different. Today, it felt as if I were the reason he was hurt, and all those men died at thewarehouse. I was the cause of this violence, and I was choosing to let it spread.

I did not like feeling that way.

“One question for one question,” I said, breathing in deeply.

His expression didn’t change as he looked at me. “Explain.”

I walked back to the table, pulling out a chair across from him and sitting down carefully. My foot protested the movement, but I ignored it. From the drawer beneath the table, I retrieved a deck of cards that I had found there a few days ago while I was bored and searching the safe house. I quietly set the velveteen cards between us.

“Poker,” I said simply. “We will play, and whoever loses a round will answer a question the other person asks honestly. I promise I won’t lie, and I expect you not to lie either.”

There was a beat of silence while he stared at me.

“You think I play games?”

“I think you understand strategy.”

He leaned back in his chair slowly, as if deliberating.

“Deal.”

The first round was quiet and controlled. We moved through it without speaking, the sound of cards against wood the only thing filling the space. I watched his hands and the way he held the cards. I noticed the subtle shifts in his expression, and he watched me the same way.

Hunters. Both of us.

The first hand ended quickly, and I lost. Of course I did. I had never been particularly lucky at poker. I exhaled softly,leaning back, knowing fully well that a deal was a deal and I had no desire to back away from it.

“Fine,” I said. “You can ask your question now.”

His gaze didn’t waver as if he had thought of the question before I had dealt the losing card. “Who did you call from the burner?”

Straight to the point. I expected nothing less from someone like Kliment Romanov.

“She is a contact,” I said. “Someone I trust with my business and my life.”

“What is her name?”

I tilted my head. “That’s two questions, and the deal is to only answer one.”

A flicker of something sharp moved through his eyes, but he let it go.

“Fine. Let’s play,” he said.

I studied him for a moment and distributed the cards again, the two of us playing silently until he lost the second round. I looked up at him with a smile, and he nodded, giving me leave to ask whatever I wanted.

“Why did you try to separate Ilana from Avgust, knowing fully well she loved him and was choosing to be with him?”

The shift was immediate, even if subtle. His posture stilled, and his gaze sharpened just slightly as he considered the question.