Page 42 of Prey of the Bratva

I was standing at the small kitchen counter, pouring coffee, when I felt his presence behind me.

“You’re up early today.” His voice was rough with sleep, but alert. Always alert.

“I’ve been up for a while,” I replied, without turning around to look at him. He already looked irresistible to me more than half the time, and I could only imagine how he would look in his half-asleep state. Kliment Romanov was beginning to make an impact on me, and I did not know what to do about it. A part of me wanted to do nothing about it, enjoying every single minute of his presence. Silence stretched for a moment before I felt him step closer. Not crowding. Not imposing. Just present.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet like that yet, Misha. I told you that last night as well.”

I let out a quiet breath, finally glancing over my shoulder at him.Fuck. He had taken his soiled shirt off and was standing bare-chested before me, his injury clearly visible in the morning light. “And you shouldn’t be taking bullets for no reason, but here we are.”

A flicker of something akin to amusement or irritation, or maybe both, crossed his expression before it settled back into that composed, unreadable calm he wore so well.

“Fair,” he said.

I turned fully then, leaning back lightly against the counter, studying him the same way he studied everything else.

“I have something I need to ask of you. You can consider it a favor or a request of sorts.”

“I am listening,” he replied, growing attentive while continuing to pour himself a cup of coffee.

There was no hesitation in what I said next. I had already thought it through. “I need to bring my team here.”

I did not add any preamble in order to manipulate or convince him. I simply needed him to see it for what it was. Last night, when I had told him about my plan and my intentions, he had been nothing but supportive. I had been surprised to see how proud he looked of me in that moment, and I was no longer afraid of showing him my real self. Strategy did not wait for comfort.

His gaze sharpened immediately.

“Your team?” he asked.

“Yes. My girls. Since I can’t walk until my brace comes off, I figured they could come here so we can go over things together. The operations have been halted long enough because of me.”

He did not answer right away. He just watched me, assessing and calculating. I could practically see the layers of consideration moving behind his eyes. Someone like him would consider everything. The risk, exposure, and control.

“This isn’t a request,” I added calmly. “It’s the only way this plan moves forward, and I am asking you to help me go through with it.”

“And you think I’m just going to open a Romanov safe house to people I’ve never met?”

“I think you understand that what I walked into at the docks was bigger than both of us. That this mission I have started is bigger than everything else,” I said evenly. “And I think you know I won’t stop. Not now.”

That landed. I saw it in the slight shift of his posture.

“And you trust them?” he asked.

“With my life.”

“No hesitation.”

“None at all.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded once. “Fine.”

That was it. He did not force me to draw out a negotiation and did not pose any unnecessary resistance. His tone was firmer now.

“Make sure that they come in clean. I don’t want any tails or unknown variables. This safe house is hidden even from my own brothers, and I want it to remain hidden. Viktor will run perimeter sweeps before and after. Anyone who steps into this house answers to me as well as you. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Another pause.

“And Misha,” he added quietly.