Page 63 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
When I leave the bathroom, he doesn’t speak to me. He enters and shuts himself inside, as if locking me out. My heart stutters. I’m the one who pushed him away, but now I feel the sting of that rejection more than I expected.
I slip into my nightdress and climb into the bed, turning my back to his side. I think maybe if I ignore him, if I bury myself under the sheets, I can regain some control over myself.
Minutes later, I hear him leave the bathroom. The soft rustle of clothes signals him putting something on, the subtle sound making my heart flutter with anticipation and dread all atonce. Then the bed dips as he lies down behind me, his presence immediate and grounding.
His arms snake around me, strong and unyielding, pressing me into his side. My face finds the warmth of his neck, and I instinctively try to pull away—but the fight is weak. I want this. Even when I tell myself I shouldn’t, even when a voice in my head screams at me to stop, my body betrays me.
“Ellie….” His voice is low, a growl against my ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”
“I shouldn’t…” I whisper, twisting slightly, trying to create space, but he tightens his hold just enough to remind me I can’t escape.
“I won’t let you.” His hand slides gently along my arm, then to my waist, holding me as if I might float away if he lets go. “It’s okay to want me. Because I want you…too. Too much. It’s driving me insane.”
The words tumble from his lips like fire, and I feel the weight of them pressing into my chest. His need, raw and unfiltered, wraps around me. My own want rises in response, undeniable and frightening.
I relax against him, letting his warmth anchor me, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe the storm inside me. For the first time in weeks—maybe months—I feel…safe.
We don’t speak.
I close my eyes, letting the tension in my body melt into his arms. And in that moment, the chaos outside—the threats, the attacks, the danger—they all fade away. There’s only this. Only him. Only us.
I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know how to navigate this… this fierce, consuming pull I feel for him. But as I rest my cheek against his neck, breathing in the scent of him, one thing becomes terrifyingly, achingly clear: I care about this manmore than I should. And I have no idea how to stop. Or if I want to.
Chapter 12 – Mike
Sergei:Boss, good morning. Regarding the 1401 warehouse, we had a situation. The place was hit overnight. I’m already on the ground assessing the damage and tracing who sang. Come as soon as you can.
I blink at the text from Sergei, my heart skipping a beat. It came in while I was asleep over an hour ago. One of my biggest warehouses—one of the few whose location is tightly controlled—was breached. I sit up abruptly, sheets falling to my waist, a cold wash of adrenaline running through me.
“Mike…are you okay?”
I turn to see Ellie blinking awake, her eyes wide, worry etched across her face. For a second, her concern pierces through the fog of urgency.
I lean down and brush my lips against hers. “Sergei just texted me. One of my warehouses was raided overnight. I have to go.”
Her hands reach out instinctively, gripping mine. “Do you…do you need me to—?”
“No,” I cut in gently but firmly. “Stay here. Just…stay safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I slip from the bed and head to the bathroom, running cold water over my face. Ever since Ellie mentioned Sergei, I’ve been walking a fine line—part of me doesn’t want to pry too deep, afraid of uncovering something I don’t want to see. Sergei has been with me for years. I trust him. I’ve depended on him more than anyone else in my life.
But I cannot ignore Ellie’s instincts. She’s smart, calculated. If she’s seeing something off, there’s a reason for it. I cannot dismiss her.
As soon as I’m ready to leave, Ellie comes to stand beside me, wearing a simple robe, her hair still rumpled from her sleep. She watches me, silent but perceptive. I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promise again.
Her lips twitch into a small, worried smile. “Be careful.”
“I always am,” I mutter, but even as I say it, the knot in my stomach tightens.
Almost an hour later, after one more quick kiss and a promise to return soon, I slip into my car. The city is waking, but I’m focused only on the warehouse. On Sergei. On the potential betrayal—or worse—the confirmation that Ellie’s instincts are right.
The drive is tense. My mind moves in multiple directions at once, weighing possibilities, planning contingencies, rehearsing outcomes. Trust is my greatest asset and my most dangerous vulnerability. And now, both are under threat.
By the time I arrive at 1401, the morning sun has begun to illuminate the damage. Guards are already cordoning off the area, talking in low, urgent tones. I step out, my presence commanding immediate attention. Sergei approaches, face controlled, unreadable—but something in his posture, a subtle stiffness, makes me narrow my eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, voice low, sharp.
