Page 3 of The Bratva's Stalked Bride
“Fuck you,” he whispers. “It’s my father’s watch. It has sentimental value.”
“Like fuck it is.”
Lucas hates his father. He hasn’t spoken to him in years. But he doesn’t know that I know that.
He hurriedly unclips his watch and tosses it onto the ground.
I leave it where it’s lying and plant a solid fist into his ribs.
He huffs out a heavy breath as pain wracks through him.
In the dark alleyway, I see his eyes flare with anger. In a flash, he grabs my mask and rips it from my face.
“Simon?!” he snarls.
I never intended for him to see me.
Fuck. There is only one solution for this.
In a swift and deadly move, I shove the knife up through his lower jaw and into his skull.
His death is instant, but his body twitches for a few seconds before I let it drop to the ground with a thump.
“What was that?” I hear the nervous voice of a girl, whispering in fright.
Glancing up the alley back toward the street, I see a woman peering into the darkness toward me.
“Nothing, just a cat or something,” her friend says, grabbing her arm.
The girl is still squinting into the darkness. She’s looking right at me, but whether or not she can actually see me is unknown.
“Come on, Blair, the Uber is here,” her friend huffs, tugging her away.
“Ye, sorry, coming,” she mutters, but even as she climbs into the Uber, she’s still staring into the darkness. It feels like she’s looking right into my soul.Blair.
I wait until the taxi drives away, then quickly grab my mask from Lucas’s grasp and his watch from the ground. A robbery gone wrong.
I never intended to kill him, but fuck it, the world is a better place without scum bags like him in it. I have what I came for—the phone.
Running from the alley, I wipe the blade of my knife and shove it back into the sheath at my side. Glancing up and down the street, I see no other witnesses. It seems Lucas’s date didn’t even bother trying to get help.
Within minutes, I’m in my car, cloning the phone. While the program is running, I drive to the docks and park near the water. As soon as it’s done and I have a copy of all of the information on his device, I toss the phone and his watch into the water.
But now there is a loose thread.
A brown-haired girl, driving through the city in an Uber. I recite the number plate in my head again. Hurriedly, I punch it into my phone, using my tech to see if I can locate the car.
The owners’ details pop up, and I paste his phone number into the tracking app.
Thank fuck.
It worked.
A blue dot pings on my dashboard map, and I rev, pushing the car into gear to race after it.
My instincts tell me that the girl didn’t actually see anything. But I can’t risk the assumption. I need to know. I need to be sure.
It doesn’t take me long at all to catch up with the Uber.
