Page 11 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

I didn’t plan to intervene. I just wanted to observe the girl from a distance—see for myself what she looked like in person. She looked so gorgeous in that photograph, and a huge part of me wanted to stare at that beauty up close.

It was supposed to be a simple observe-and-report mission that any one of the men could’ve easily handled. Yet, I chose to do the fieldwork myself. For unknown reasons, something about this girl kept pulling me to her like a moth to a flame.

Why?

What was it about her that I couldn’t get enough of? Why was this stranger, who, by Bratva law, was supposed to be “taken care of,” living rent-free in my head?

By the time I arrived at her neighborhood, she was already leaving the house. My men had reported that she barely left the apartment since the incident two days ago.

One even said he believed the girl was aware that she was being watched.

He couldn’t prove it, but according to him, he was certain that she was starting to get really suspicious of her surroundings. The way she moved the couple of times she left the house, and the way her eyes roamed the streets, hinted at her hyperawareness.

This piece of information just made her far more interesting than before. Until now, she still hadn’t gone to the authorities about what she witnessed. Smart girl.

That night, I followed her down the streets, watching her closely from the other side of the road. She had her hoodie on, so I didn’t get a good look at her face. However, the way she carried herself with so much confidence and poise did something to me that I wasn’t ready to label.

When I spotted those two masked men trailing her, my expression darkened. They were muggers, and they’d set their eyes on her. She was quick to detect their presence and wasted no time in taking off.

God, she was fast!

No wonder she was able to outrun my men the day she witnessed our covert operation. She moved so swiftly that it seemed her feet were barely touching the ground.

She gaped at her attackers, stealing nervous glances over her shoulders as she sprinted through the night. This whole time, I’d joined in on the chase, following up behind the two assholes.

They were chasing her.

I was chasing them.

She was their prey.

They were mine.

She turned a sharp corner and hit a dead end. That’s when her attackers showed up, trapping her in that dark alleyway.

“Stay back!” she barked, arming herself with a random stick she’d picked off the ground.

I waited in the shadows, watching the whole scene unfold.

They mocked her. Laughed at her.

Yet she stood her ground, warning them not to take a step closer as though she stood a chance against them.

Her bravery in the face of danger was remarkable. I thought she was going to beg them not to harm her. I thought she’d break down into tears and quickly hand over everything she had.

But no. This girl chose to go down fighting rather than cower like a scared little kitten. She was clearly built differently.

I liked that.

The second she headbutted that man in the face, my brows rose instinctively. The strike was so powerful it actually broke his nose. Something frozen thawed inside me instantly.

She didn’t stop there; she swung the stick violently, striking the second man across the face. And she would’ve run away if the first man hadn’t grabbed her by the hoodie. She fought back, struggling, scratching, screaming, and kicking.

It wasn’t until the second guy smacked her hard that I finally snapped.

In a heartbeat, I dashed out of the shadows and grabbed his hand in midair before he struck her again. He raised his head, shock flickering in his gaze, but before he could birth his next thought, I twisted his arm.

Crack!