Page 66 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
Her hands flex in her lap as she speaks. “Third, bait operations. Not anything reckless—but small-scale, contained situations that require the inner circle to respond. Monitor who takes initiative, who communicates covertly, who deviates from protocol. Anyone trying to cover up a leak will reveal themselves in subtle ways. It’s about creating situations that make hidden motives visible without endangering others.”
Her solution mirrors exactly what I’ve been piecing together in my mind. I nod, silently acknowledging the alignment. There’s a moment of wordless understanding between us, a rare quiet in the storm that surrounds our lives.
I kiss her hair. “The best decision I ever made in my life, Ellie, is marrying you.”
A deep blush covers her skin, and she buries her face in my neck. I just let her hide, my heart feeling warm.
Later, past midnight, Ellie is fast asleep in my arms. Her breathing is steady, her body warm and heavy against mine. I treasure these small moments before the world intrudes again.
My phone buzzes sharply on the bedside table. I snatch it up before it wakes her. It’s Timofey. I swipe to answer, my voice low.
“Yeah?”
“Mike…I traced the offshore transfers. They’re being routed through shell companies linked to an external faction, you know, the one you crushed years ago.”
A chill runs through me.
“I’ll tell you more in the morning when I come over. But Ellie was right. Sergei isn’t just leaking information,” Timofey says quietly. “He’s rebuilding an enemy…right under your nose.”
Chapter 13 – Ellie
I hate how naturally I’ve adapted to this life. I hate that I now notice the subtle signals—the coded glances, the unspoken hierarchies, the way everyone moves in rhythm with rules they barely admit exist. Most of all, I hate that I feel a flicker of pride when Mike trusts my insight.
It’s been three days since the warehouse raid, and Mike has brought me fully into the fold. He told me everything he found about Sergei—the offshore transfers, the suspicious access logs, the perfectly clean execution of the raid. And now we’re running the bait operation I designed, watching, waiting, letting the pieces fall into place.
The operation began quietly, almost invisibly. False shipment data was seeded through controlled channels, each version subtly altered for the recipient. Every modification carried a digital marker—tiny, almost imperceptible signatures that only we could trace. If the information leaked, we would know exactly who handled it.
I spent hours helping design the variations, calculating what Sergei might notice, what would trigger him to act. The work was meticulous, precise—the kind of work I’d done countless times in my academic life, but now the stakes weren’t papers or conference presentations. They were lives.
We already know who it is. Sergei. Everything points to him. But we’re letting him have this last benefit of the doubt, letting the bait sit like a trap, waiting for him to make the first move.
Today, though, we’re attending another social luncheon, and Mike had to cajole me into going. I can feel my chest tightening as the car moves through the city streets. I know I’ll be seeing Raelyn and the other wives there, and that’s the only reason I agreed to come.
Sergei is driving, oblivious to the fact that we’re already onto him. He talks quietly to Mike about mundane details—security shifts, warehouse staff. Mike responds in a carefree manner, not giving anything away.
Mike and I sit in the backseat, our hands intertwined. His thumb brushes over mine, steady and reassuring, and I feel my chest relax. These past few days, we’ve grown closer, closer than I ever imagined possible. And honestly…I’ve been so happy. Though I’ve never said it aloud, not once.
He’s great. Attentive. Loving. Caring. Never yells. Never forces. He’s exactly the man I didn’t think existed—the man I didn’t think could ever be mine. And sitting here, feeling the warmth of his hand, I realize how much I’ve come to trust him, how much I’ve come to lean on him—not just for safety, but for everything.
The city blurs past the window as I press my other hand against his leg. The warmth spreads through me, grounding me, even as a quiet tension coils in my stomach.
When we arrive at the event, Mike turns to me just before we alight, as he always does. His gaze is steady, serious, but soft at the edges.
“You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to,” he says quietly. “Just staying by my side is enough.”
I laugh lightly, teasing, letting my voice carry just enough for him to hear. “You just like having me beside you, don’t you?”
He smirks faintly, almost sheepishly, but there’s that subtle intensity in his eyes I’ve come to recognize—the promise that no matter what happens, he’ll have my back.
Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to mingle with Raelyn and the others. You shouldn’t worry about me.”
He gives me that half-smile, the one that hints he knows me better than I know myself. I glance away, pretendingnonchalance, but I can feel his eyes following me as I step into the crowd.
I don’t find Raelyn immediately. Instead, I spot Anya moving toward us—a swirl of floral perfume, elegance, and calculated confidence. My stomach tightens. The air seems to shift, subtle but undeniable.
Anya stops beside us. Her eyes sweep over me, just long enough for me to feel the scrutiny before she turns to Mike. “Hello, Mike,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek against his chest.
Mike freezes. His hand tightens instinctively on my arm as his panicked eyes flick to mine. I almost laugh at his reaction, knowing it’s leftover trauma from the way I reacted the last time.
