Page 84 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

They hadn’t liked it, but they’d gone because their meetings had begun backing up and soon, clients would start questioning them if they didn’t show up at the office.

Stopping several feet from my car, I took one more deep breath and craned my neck to look up at the building. I’d asked them multiple questions about security, and they’d answered because they thought I was still worried.

Truthfully, I was worried, but more about them catching me and realizing what I was doing.

“Move your feet, Peyton. You made the decision, now follow through.” I’d never dealt with this kind of thing before, so I wasn’t sure how to make it look realistic, but I did my best.

First, I opened the driver’s side door and splashed blood across the seat.

Then I took the knife I’d carried in my purse forever and sliced through the seat.

Tears blurred my vision, and I sniffed them back so I could see better. I paused with my hand on the car door.

I’d bought this car myself, my first year in New York. I’d driven it on every grocery run, every interview until I landed the job with Leo and the others.

Every single day to work.

Ripping it apart and splashing blood everywhere like one of those slasher movies I avoided created one of those dichotomies… or something like that.

Whatever it was that meant I’d put a literal end to a part of my life in a very visual way.

A few more hacking slashes, a few more splashes of blood that trailed over the lip of the door and onto the street, then I took my foot and smeared it around so it resembled what I thought drag marks would look like.

What else?

The goal was to make it look like I’d been attacked on my way to my car. Attacked and killed.

I needed them not to look for me, which was why I added even more blood. I needed them to think I was dead and my body had been hauled away by Anton and his men.

I didn’t let myself think beyond the tiny baby growing inside me. I was doing this for them, for our safety.

My heart broke over and over again, but I had no choice. I could not live in this world.

I tossed the now empty bucket in the dumpster two blocks down, double-checked that I hadn’t left anything behind that I couldn’t live without, and drove away. I threw my phone out the window as I drove over the next bridge, then called Mom from the cheap thing I’d bought at a gas station.

My voice gave me away from the first syllable. I didn’t tell her everything, but she knew enough.

“Come home, honey. Dad’s already working on getting the family together. We’ll take care of everything.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I sniffed. “You think they’ll be mad at me? This is going to affect all of their lives.”

“No. No one is mad at you. Just be safe. Do you want us to meet you halfway?” Footsteps shuffled in the background, then Dad’s voice came over the phone.

“You remember that little cafe we all stopped at during our vacation that year you got carsick?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”

“Meet me there.”

I loved him for going all in. He made it sound all secret spy mission by not saying the location over the phone. Like our conversations might be recorded somewhere.

Hell, maybe they were. My knowledge was based on the few crime documentaries and spy shows I’d watched over the years. I couldn’t exactly research what I needed to know when my lovers were technologically savvy enough to find it once I was gone.

If they thought to look. I had no idea if I’d made it convincing enough that they’d just accept my death.

32

LEO