Page 112 of Baby for the Bratva King

A killer cannot be in love.

Fresh blood drips from his knife, the grass tipped red. Felix wastes no time, moving onto his next victim before the previous one has time to die. He doesn’t dwell, nor does he think twice about his actions.

He acts and moves on.

I sink into the long grass, well aware I’m sitting on top of someone’s grave. But my body is exhausted. I used up all of my strength.

I watch the dying man, trying to wrap my head around this. He chokes on his own blood, coughing, spluttering, while Felix is working on his next victim—the second man holding Fleur down.

Fleur goes free, but she is frozen in horror, unsure what to do with herself. Relatable.

“Go,” I hear Felix say as he’s stabbing the second man repeatedly. “Over there. Stay with Saskia. The two of you need to keep low. And close your eyes.”

Little bit too late for that.

Fleur rushes over, and I yank her down to the ground.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Father tried to bury me alive.”

He did what?” shrieks Fleur.

I slap a hand over her mouth, flashing her a stern look. “Don’t. We’ll talk about it later.”

“If we even live to experience ‘later.’”

I’m unable to think about anything else right now. Felix is all I can see as he stabs, stabs, stabs the second man in the chest, not stopping until the man collapses into the grass.

Tears stream down my face, but I’m not crying out of sadness. I’m grieving the previous version of him I knew.

He told me he was in the mafia, and I made peace with that because I could only imagine what that entailed. But this? He attacks his third victim, slicing open their throat. These actions are inhumane. Completely fucking psychotic…

And yet a part of me still loves him anyway. He tracked me down. He found me.

And now he’s killing for me.

We lock eyes, and I see the silver glinting in his eye slightly. He’s the opposite of the man I shared a bed with. The man who pulled me close. Held me tightly. His arms blocked out the entire world, and I felt safe…

In a killer’s arms.

The opponent tries to stab Felix in the face as self-defense, but Felix swerves. He grabs the man from behind, driving the blade through his back.

A shiver runs down my spine when I see the blade appear on the other side, coated in blood. Felix stabbed him straight through the heart—from behind.

I question my father’s words. Perhaps there’s some truth to what he has to say, because he was definitely telling the truth about Felix.

I glance over my shoulder, searching my father.

“Don’t bother,” says Fleur, reading my mind. “He’s probably back in Manhattan complaining to the media.”

“No,” I say absent-mindedly, my eyes fixated on a black pointed hood in the near distance. “Stay here.”

“One rule for one…” Fleur tosses me a sidelong glance. “Where are you going?”

“I might have an idea.”

“Which might get you killed.”