Page 12 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

He yelled out in pain after I snapped it like a twig. I raised him into the air with one hand and hurled him across the alleyway.

The other man came at me with a knife. I sidestepped from his attack, retaliating with a blow to his ribs. The impact crushed his ribcage, forcing a grunt out of him. Before that pain would settle, a powerful uppercut raised him into the air and crashed to the ground, graveling at my feet.

I stared down at my fearless damsel in distress as she blinked her eyes, as if struggling to stay conscious. That slap must’ve done a number on her. The fact that these men had the guts to lay their filthy hands on her infuriated me more than it should.

I crouched down, slipping a tiny tracking device into the pocket of her hoodie. The two assholes took the chance to attempt an escape. They rose to their feet, limping away. I strolled after them, my footsteps measured—unhurried.

When I grabbed one by the neck, he began begging for his life. Pathetic. I closed my fingers around the nape of his neck, choking the life out of him as his eyes bulged out of their sockets.

A second later, I bashed the side of his head into the alley wall. The impact was so powerful that it left a dent in the brick with blood smeared over it. By the time I turned to face the second man, he was already pissing himself.

I took a step closer, and that was when his eyes rolled backward, and he dropped to the floor. The idiot had passed out. From fear.

A strange kind of satisfaction washed over me, knowing she was out of harm’s way. When she rose to her feet, I retreated into the shadows, concealing my identity. I wasn’t sure whether she saw my face two days ago or not. The idea was to remain mysterious and anonymous for now.

Her voice was laced with genuine gratitude when she thanked me like I was some superhero who’d swooped in and saved her life. She was wrong. I was no superhero. In fact, there’s no universe where I didn’t exist as a villain.

Without a word, I turned around and left.

***

I sat in my office that day, watching the live feed from the surveillance cameras in her home. After she’d left the house the other night, I had my men break into her apartment to install hidden cameras and microphones.

These tiny devices were positioned at strategic places where she’d never notice. She went about her regular life, oblivious to the fact that her place had been bugged by the same people she was hiding from.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes fixed on my laptop screen. I watched her sulk in bed for hours, as if trying to make sense of what was happening in her life. When she decided to get out of her bed, she stripped naked and walked into the bathroom.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her bare skin glistening under the light. The feminine curve of her figure, the gentle swells that adorned her chest, stole my breath for a second.

Reflexively, I reached out and closed the laptop. Not because I wasn’t intrigued by what I saw, but because, for some reason, I didn’t want to invade her privacy. The idea was to keep an eye on her. Not watch her undress.

The temptation was stronger than I expected, as everything in me wanted to feast my eyes on the sight of her sexy body. However, I resisted. I wasn’t a saint. But at the same time, just because I could do something didn’t mean that I should.

I left the laptop closed and tried going back to work despite the illicit thoughts forming in my head. The more I struggled to stay focused, the more I got distracted by the images burned into my mind.

At last, I managed to win the battle and buried myself in work for the next two hours. By the time I returned to watching the live feed, she was already on the phone.

My eyes squinted, brows furrowed, as I listened to her conversation with the person on the other end. Initially, I thought she was speaking with the cops, but then I noticed the smile on her face and the tone of her voice.

Whoever was on the other line was definitely someone close to her. A friend. Maybe that Frank Donovan guy. A strange feeling swelled within me at the mere thought of another man being responsible for that beautiful smile.

My fingers curled into a tight fist as I watched her converse so casually over the phone. She seemed so happy that her eyes lit up in ways that accentuated her gorgeousness.

She must really care about that man to act the way she was—smiling and laughing. My expression darkened ever so slightly, that strange feeling gradually spreading across my body.

It wasn’t until she mentioned a feminine name that I released my tightly curled fingers.

Iris.

The fact that she’d been on the phone with another woman this whole time was more relieving than I thought. Whoever this Iris was, she was probably her friend. Or her lover?

Was she into women?

I combed my fingers through my dark hair, confused by my sudden interest in her private and sexual life. It wasn’t supposed to be any concern of mine.

Her relationship status shouldn’t be irrelevant to the task at hand.

What even was the task at hand again?