Page 25 of Bratva's Mercy
When Sergei pulled into my driveway and shut off the engine, the sudden silence rang loud in my ears. Before I could say anything, his door opened and shut again. I’d barely managed to unlock my seatbelt when the passenger door swung wide.
“Come on,” he said.
“I’ve got it from here. Thank you.”
He didn’t move. His lips were curled into an amused smile. “So you know how to be grateful.”
“Fuck you.” I smacked his hands away when he reached for me.
“That’s not very doctorly of you.” He shook his head. “I see your gratitude is short-lived.”
“I don’t owe you a fucking thing.” I tried to shove him out of the way, but Mount Rushmore, of course, refused to budge. “If anything,youowe me a life.”
Seconds ticked by, and I raised my head to confront whatever fury I expected to see there, but I found none.
“Alright,” he said, sounding way too damn sincere. Joke was on him. A man like him had no clue what sincerity meant. “When the time comes, I’ll trade my life for yours. Until then, let’s get you inside.”
“I can walk!”
“I know.”
Sergei ignored me and lifted me out of the truck with a smooth, controlled movement that made my stomach roil. The ground tilted unpleasantly beneath me as he straightened, and my hand instinctively grabbed his shoulder for balance, only to find warm skin and hard muscles.
“Put me down,” I said again, though the words came out weaker this time.
“No.” The answer was calm, quiet, and utterly final.
By the time we reached the front door, I had stopped arguing. It took too much energy to keep my stomach steady. Sergei shifted me slightly in his arms and pressed my finger against the keypad.
The door opened. Warm air wrapped around us as he carried me inside.
The familiar scent of my house greeted me immediately—clean air and the apple-scented detergent I used on the floors.Sergei walked straight down the hallway, past the living room, up the stairs, and straight to my bedroom.
My stomach tightened sharply.
His friend hadn’t been joking. He’d been inside my home before.
You’re not coming back to the club because you’re going to sneak into the doctor’s house and spend the night watching him sleep.
I felt the pulse in my throat stutter as I struggled to make sense of this new information. Meanwhile, oblivious to my inner turmoil, Sergei pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder and carried me directly into the adjoining bathroom. The overhead light flicked on, too bright against my pounding skull. He lowered me carefully onto the closed toilet lid before stepping back, studying my face like he was evaluating the damage.
“Stay here,” he said.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Not planning on running a marathon.”
Sergei didn’t react to the sarcasm. Instead, he crouched and opened the cabinets beneath the sink. Not the one above.
My heartbeat quickened, and I felt lightheaded. Sergei knew exactly where to look to find what he wanted. Fear crept into my chest.
Who is this man, and what does he want from me?
At first, I thought he wanted to use me to protect Maxim, and he had, but this? This was going too far. This was different. And the way he’d rushed to save me? That wasn’t the action of a man who was planning to murder me in my sleep. At least not any time soon.
I watched him—the way the muscles pulled across his naked back each time he moved. He took out the small first aid box and straightened again. He stepped closer, his large hands careful as he tilted my chin upward to inspect my face.
“Hold still, Doc,” he murmured.
“I am still.”
