Page 6 of Traded & Bred By the Bratva
Sydney smiles politely as he approaches, but her eyes are wary.
Lang says something, and she laughs nervously. As his hand settles against her lower back, her shoulders immediately tighten. It’s a tiny reaction most people wouldn’t notice.
I do.
A pulse beats heavily behind my eyes.
Lang leans closer. Too close.
Sydney shifts her weight to create distance, but Lang follows.
The bastard crowds her, testing her boundaries to see what she’ll allow him to get away with.
Rage unexpectedly but swiftly warms my chest. I haven't felt this protective in years. Not since I had to step in to shield my half-brother, Alex. Not since family.
But Sydney Noble is definitely not family, and I shouldn’t feel like this toward her. I can’t afford it. Not tonight.
Not while I am undercover.
Not while everything I’ve worked so hard for is finally coming together.
Clenching my hand into a fist, I force myself to look away from her. She chose to come here tonight. She allowed that number to be pinned to her dress.
This is not my problem.
But then I remember a mechanic standing over me with blood on his hands, refusing to let me die and my gaze snaps back to her. Maybe I can’t look away because debt means something to me. Or maybe it's because of something else entirely. Something far more dangerous.
Before I think about what I’m doing, I’ve set down my glass, the crystal clicking softly against the bar, and I’m walking across the room.
The crowd parts naturally, the way people always move when they see me coming. Maybe it’s my height. Maybe it’s my tattoos.
Doesn’t matter tonight as long as they get the fuck out of the way.
By the time I reach them, Sydney’s gaze darts around for an escape route. She’s looking at the other women, silently begging for help, but they angle their bodies so they don’t have to notice her.
Lang is looking pleased with himself.
Neither notices me until I stop beside them. "Victor," I say, in a tone dripping with ice.
Lang turns, and annoyance flashes across his face. "Max."
I look at Sydney. Up close, she's even more beautiful than the photograph suggested she’d grow into, but far more exhausted. There's a sadness in her eyes that wasn't there two years ago. Something has happened to her. Something bad that I don’t know about. Yet.
But I will find out.
Her gaze lifts to mine, and for a moment she simply stares. I understand why. Most people react that way. Years of Bratva violence have marked me, even if they’re not visible ones. Sydney's eyes widen slightly and then she quickly looks away.
Interesting.
Lang notices and his hand on her lower back pulls her closer to him. "Now is not the time for business. I’m having a conversation with this lovely woman."
I smile with absolutely no warmth. "Not anymore."
The ballroom noise continues around us, while people pretend to ignore the tense situation playing out in their midst. They’re smart enough to pretend they don’t care. Or maybe they actually don’t.
Lang's eyes narrow. "She isn't yours."
Not yet.The words almost leave my mouth.Instead, I say, "Actually, she is."
