Page 36 of The Bratva Betrayal

“For her.” He glances at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. Moments ago, he ran from me when a gunshot erupted. “You just got shot at.”

“No,” I correct, “my car did.”

Admitting that I’m on someone’s hitlist right now doesn’t sit well with me at all.

“Cady—”

“He’s right,” Artem cuts in smoothly. “Someone doesn’t like you.”

My nostrils flare because this isn’t funny. He shouldn’t be here.

“I’m glad you find this amusing.” I turn to face the elevator doors. “You can leave now.”

“No need to get into your feelings,” he mocks. “Misha wants to protect you.”

Neither of them do. And I don’t need either one of these men.

“I’m the daughter of Colin Gallagher,” I grind out. “I don’t need bravta’s assistance.”

A small scoff leaves Artem’s lips. “Did you hear that, brother? She’s too good for Volkov’s help.”

Misha steps closer to me. For what, I don’t know, but the ruse of me being into him after tonight… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to follow through.

“She didn’t mean it,” he mutters, touching the inside of my arm. “She’s upset.”

How was Artem here moments after the incident? We’re not even close to Volkov territory.

We’re in Gallagher.

This isn’t random.

And neither is him being here.

Misha turns. “You agree with that?”

“I agree that flooding her place with men makes this worse,” Artem says. “It draws attention, it escalates things, and it tells whoever sent that message that it landed how they wanted it to.”

Misha isn’t pleased. “So, what? We do nothing?”

“We do something useful,” Artem replies calmly. “Which means we don’t panic.”

The elevator hums as it climbs, and I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall—hair out of place, a thin line of red still visible along my cheek.

The doors open, and I step out first this time, crossing the hall to my door and unlocking it with steadier hands than I feel.

The familiar scent of roses greets me as I push it open, soft and fake, like everything else about this place.

Artem moves past me, scanning the room. His attention moves over everything—the windows, the layout, the blind spots—and I don’t miss a second of it.

What’d he do? Place another man in here to kill me?

“Get a first-aid kit,” Artem orders without looking at either one of us.

Misha moves like he’s suddenly remembered he’s my boyfriend as Artem turns around to look at me.

“Let me see it.” He nods toward my cheek.

“It’s nothing.”