Page 103 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
When the meeting finally takes place, the first time I see Katerina Morozova in person, she’s every bit as formidable as her operations suggest. The warehouse is stark, dimly lit, and she stands perfectly centered, waiting. Her presence commands the space without raising her voice, her posture a precise calculation.
Up close, there’s something familiar about her face, but I can’t place it yet. Her eyes meet mine, sharp and assessing, then slide to Ellie. I see the recognition there—respect, almost reverence—for what Ellie represents.
She greets Ellie with warmth that feels deliberate. “I’m glad to see you again, my friend,” she says, her voice smooth, almost conspiratorial.
Ellie doesn’t flinch, doesn’t play the game. “Don’t call me friend,” she says, steady and cold. “We’ll never be friends.”
Katerina tilts her head slightly, curious. “And why is that?”
Ellie’s voice hardens. “Because you shot my husband. That’s why.”
A scoff escapes Katerina, casual, almost amused. “Don’t you see? Your husband is an outdated model of power. You, Ellie,youare the evolution.”
“What are you talking about?” Ellie asks.
I keep silent, letting Ellie take the floor. I’m only here to protect Ellie, not because I have anything to say. I don’t negotiate with people like Katerina, because in the end, they’re evil and only want one thing—power. Ellie hasn’t been in thisworld like I have, so she thinks she can talk her way out of this. She’s going to be grossly disappointed in the end.
Katerina leans slightly forward, eyes sharp. “Sergei, Anya, and Samantha were assets, yes, but they were never the architects. The real objective has always been your software, ARGO. With it, entire global supply chains—legal and illegal—can be optimized beyond anything currently possible. Efficiency, control, influence—all inourhands.”
“Our?” Ellie laughs, sharp and defiant. “You’ll never get your hands on it.”
Katerina’s lips twitch in a faint smile. “Never say never.”
Then she turns to me, her gaze piercing. “Step aside. Publicly distance yourself from her. Allow her to reclaim her academic life under my supervision. In exchange, the federal charges disappear.”
I refuse without hesitation. “No,” I say flatly, voice steady. “There’s nostep aside. Not now. Not ever.”
Katerina tilts her head, expression unreadable. “Okay, then there’s nothing else to talk about.”
I turn to Ellie. “Let’s go,” I say, sliding my hand into hers.
Katerina’s voice cuts after us, smooth and taunting. “Think about it, Ellie. I’ll give you the world.”
Ellie doesn’t even glance back. “Keep it,” she says firmly.
She takes my hand, and we head to the car. I let her go in front, watching her back like a hawk, muscles taut, senses alert. I don’t relax until we’re safely inside the vehicle, doors locked, engines running, moving away from that place and the shadow of Katerina’s presence.
The drive is silent. Neither of us speaks until we reach the suite back at home.
Ellie finally turns to me, voice cautious. “Do you…know her?”
I shake my head. “No. Why?”
She frowns. “Because the way she acts…the way she talks…it’s like she knows you.”
I shrug, letting my fingers tighten around hers. “She does look familiar, maybe. But I’ve met a lot of people in this world, and I can’t recall everyone.” I study her face for a moment, then shake my head slightly. “What Idoknow is that you’re underestimating the psychological warfare at play here.”
Her eyes flash immediately. “And I think you’re underestimating my autonomy.”
I straighten, tension tightening through my shoulders. “Autonomy has nothing to do with it. That woman has been manipulating events for months—years, probably. She positioned people around you, around us. You think this meeting was about negotiation? It was about planting seeds.”
“And you think I can’t see that?” Ellie fires back, stepping closer. “Mike, I’m not fragile. I’m not some hostage you need to guard every second.”
“You’re the target,” I snap. “That changes the equation.”
Her chin lifts. “No. It changes how you see me.”
The room grows tight with tension, the space between us shrinking until we’re standing almost chest to chest.
