Page 97 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
We’re in this together.
Chapter 19 – Ellie
For days after, I can’t believe what my life has turned into. Everything seems to be a lie, even my relationship with Mike. It was orchestrated from the beginning.
But I refuse to be manipulated again. Every moment, every decision that brought me close to Mike—I need to know if any of it was real, or just a chess piece in someone else’s game.
For the next few days, I dive into the financial data myself, fingers flying over the keyboard from morning to evening, tracing transfers, cross-referencing shell corporations and research grants. My analytical skills, polished in the lab, suddenly become weapons in a different kind of battlefield. Every number, every anomaly, every subtle pattern whispers a story.
The deeper I dig, the clearer the pattern becomes. The syndicate funding my work isn’t just interested in biotech—they’re after something far more consequential. And the moment I see it, the pieces snap into place.
Years ago, I created a predictive logistics optimization system I named ARGO—a modeling engine capable of analyzing massive datasets to determine the most efficient ways to move goods, people, and resources across the world. Almost like a supercharged, omniscient supply-chain intelligence system.
I remember showing it to my mentor, Professor Blythe. He praised the ingenuity but warned me in no uncertain terms: I was sitting on a bomb. In the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic. I saved the system, carefully tucked it away, letting it lie dormant. I had plans for it in the future, but for the moment, it was just mine. Until now.
And now it’s obvious—they want ARGO.
Samantha worked with me on it, along with a small team of data engineers, programmers, and logistics analysts. On topof my forensic knowledge, I’m a programmer, too, so it was light work. ARGO is my brainchild. I’m the architect of the algorithm. And they’ve been circling, waiting for the right moment to claim it.
A surge of anger and clarity floods me. This isn’t just about betrayal or surveillance—it’s about power. And I won’t let them take what I built, not when I know exactly what they want and how to stop them.
I realize this was never just about Mike. It was about my work. The thought hits me like ice, and a shiver runs down my spine. Horror and disbelief mix with fury, and I march out of the security room without another word, striding into Mike’s office.
He’s bent over his laptop when I enter, but the moment he sees me, his face lights up in a smile—then it falters the instant he registers my expression.
“What is it?” he asks, voice cautious.
I take a breath, steadying the rage and fear simmering inside me. “Whoever engineered that meeting…it wasn’t random. They were trying to gain access to my algorithms. Through marriage, coercion…whatever it took.”
His brows furrow. “Which algorithms?”
The name slips out before I can stop it. “ARGO. My predictive logistics system.”
When he still looks confused, it dawns on me that I’ve never told him about it. I do now. I tell him about my work, when I created it, and what it does.
His eyes widen slightly, but then pride flickers beneath the concern. “You’re brilliant, Ellie. I see why they’d want it. A gold mine like that…it can predict disruption before it happens, identify the safest smuggling routes. You’re…you’re so fucking smart.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Mike, please. Concentrate.”
He grins, that mischievous glint returning. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you just turned me on with your intelligence?”
Before I can respond, he steps around the table, closing the distance between us. His hands find my waist, and then his lips crash against mine. It’s hungry, claiming, full of tension and unspoken words. My hands instinctively curl into his shirt, holding on as the world outside fades to nothing but this—this kiss, this moment, this raw connection between us.
Mike pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hitching. “I need you now. Please, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t need to plead. The moment he touches me, my body lights up like a fuse has been lit.
He spins me around, pinning me against the wall with the solid weight of his body. I gasp as the cool surface meets my front, but the sensation is immediately drowned out by the heat of him behind me. He trails searing, open-mouthed kisses up and down the sensitive column of my neck, his stubble grazing my skin and making me shiver.
His hand sneaks to the hem of my dress, dragging the fabric up my thighs. I writhe against the wall, my breath coming in short, jagged bursts as his palm finds the bare skin of my hip. He’s marking me with his touch, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind my ear as he groans low in his throat.
“You’re so responsive for me, Ellie,” he murmurs, his hand moving higher, fingers brushing against the lace of my panties. “Always so ready.”
I moan, my head dropping forward against the wall as the friction of his body against my back drives me toward the edge. I can feel his erection pressing hard against my glutes, a steady, pulsing reminder of exactly how much he wants me. I’m melting, my legs growing weak as he continues to tease and torture mewith his lips and hands, claiming every inch of my skin as his own.
He pins me tighter against the wall, his chest broad and solid against my back. He leans down, his mouth inches from my ear, his voice dropping to a dark, gravelly register that vibrates through my entire body.
“Ellie,” he rasps, his breath hot and demanding. “Do you want this too?”
