Page 93 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
I shake my head, trying to argue. “Mike, you need to rest. I can handle it. I need to—”
“No,” he interrupts, his jaw set. “I’m coming with you. I won’t let you face this alone.”
I try, I really do, but his mind is already made up. His presence is a wall I can’t push past, and deep down, I know he’s right. I can’t do this without him.
An hour later, Timofey, Mike, and I step into the waiting vehicle. Security follows closely behind, their silent vigilance a reminder that the danger hasn’t gone anywhere. My stomach twists with dread, anticipation, and a strange pulse of anger that I can’t quite name.
When we arrive at the holding base, my heart drops. Samantha is there, handcuffed to a chair, sitting rigidly. Her face shows no shame, no fear—just calm resignation, like she’s been waiting for this moment all along.
I can feel my chest tightening. Everything inside me wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make sense of thebetrayal. But Mike’s hand on my back steadies me, anchors me, reminding me that I’m not alone.
I step closer, my voice barely a whisper. “Samantha…why?”
“I’m sorry, Ellie.”
“I don’t want apologies.” I keep my voice steady. “Just tell me why.”
She tilts her head slightly, her gaze steady and unnerving. “You always thought our friendship was real,” she says smoothly. “But it wasn’t. I was planted. From the beginning.”
My stomach drops. Every memory of laughter, shared projects at the lab, trust I had given freely—it all feels poisoned.
“I…what are you talking about?” I ask, voice trembling, unable to mask the hurt.
Samantha exhales, almost bored. “The faction, they wanted you to fracture you from within. They sent me to get close to you, to learn, to manipulate. And I did exactly what they asked.”
The weight of it hits me like a physical blow. I feel tears prick at my eyes, but I clamp down on them. My fingers dig into Mike’s, seeking strength.
Mike leans down, his voice low, a quiet fury behind it. “Ellie…you were never weak. You were becoming strong. That’s exactly why they targeted you.”
Her betrayal cuts deep, but in the shadow of it, I feel a strange surge of resolve. I straighten, shoulders squared. I won’t let this break me.
“Why?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil. “Why did you do this? What do they want from me?”
Samantha shrugs, almost dismissively. “I can’t say. Orders. That’s all you need to know.”
Timofey’s eyes narrow as he leans slightly forward. “I know so many methods we could try to make her talk. She thinksshe’s stubborn because she hasn’t been introduced to my ways.” He cracks his fingers.
I flinch, the thought twisting my stomach. “No,” I whisper firmly. I can’t…I can’t let them hurt her. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t.
Mike’s eyes meet mine, searching for hesitation, for weakness. I shake my head. “I want to go home,” I tell him, voice low but insistent.
He studies me, jaw tight, then tilts his head slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, finally letting certainty anchor my words. “I want to go home.”
Mike exhales slowly, tension still in his shoulders but acceptance in his eyes. “Alright,” he says quietly. “We go home. We leave her here, but sooner or later, we have to handle her. We can’t let her go free.”
I nod and let him lead me outside. Timofey stays behind, but I don’t worry—he’ll respect my decision to leave Samantha alone for now.
Back at the house, we head straight to the suite. Mike’s presence beside me feels like a storm contained—powerful, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.
“You need to rest,” I tell him. “I’ll head to the library.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t leave you alone,” he says, voice low but firm.
I tilt my head, letting the words sink in. “It’s because you can’t leave me alone that I’m in this predicament,” I tell him. “Your obsession with me is why I’ve been pulled into a world that isn’t mine.”
His jaw tightens, and he counters, voice edged with something between anger and awe. “You stepped into it the moment you tried to shield me from a bullet. That’s when it started.”
