Page 7 of The Bratva Sinner

Cinder tells me what she wants about her past. I know what she had to do to survive. She’s battle-hardened. A Phoenix who rose from the ashes of the life she’d been dealt. I respect her.

“What’s your take?” I ask.

“Runaway. She owes them something. Drugged. They’ll turn her out until she overdoses and dies. With as much shit as she’s on, I’d say that’s not far away.”

My stomach clenches. “She’s young.”

“Yep.”

Cinder and I watch them. A few of the other women they brought into my club are trying to pick up some business before they leave. Bekir is on his phone. The girl has collapsed into one of the booths, her head lolling back against the leather. She looks like a broken doll.

I tell myself it's not my problem. I've already done more than most would by kicking them out. Whatever happens after she leaves my club isn't my responsibility.

But then Bekir ends his call and grabs her by the hair.

He yanks her up from the booth. Her scream is lost in the music. Then, he drags her across the floor like she's garbage as she claws at his grip.

Rage floods through me. I don't tolerate that shit here.

"Cinder, get Damien." I'm moving, taking the stairs two at a time.

Damien is my right hand, and Cinder is my left. My business would not function without either of them. Damien is never far from wherever I am. If something happens to me, Damien will know what to do. He knows my brothers. They trust him. Sergei and Nikolai trust few people, but they trust him to keep me safe.

I hit the main floor and cut through the crowd. People automatically part for me. They know who I am. What I am.

"Bekir!"

He stops, still gripping her hair. She's whimpering, her tears cutting through the heavy makeup.

"I changed my mind."

“We’re leaving,” he says.

“I gave you a chance. Now, she’s staying with me.”

Bekir's eyes narrow. "You're making an enemy you don't want, Sokolov."

"I have plenty of enemies. What's one more? Leave her and walk away.”

"Can't do that." He reaches for her.

I shove him backward. He releases the girl, who falls to the ground. This time, the tiny skirt reveals the fact that she’s not wearing panties. I shrug off my jacket and lay it over her. I’m so fucking pissed that I can hardly see straight.

His men move in. I see the one on the left reaching for something in his jacket. A weapon.

Damien appears from nowhere and clamps his hand on the man's arm. "I wouldn't."

Sampson and Mike materialize on either side of us, forming a wall of muscle. The crowd has noticed, and phones are coming out. This is about to become a scene.

"Last chance," I say quietly. "Walk away."

Bekir looks at his men, then at mine. The math isn't in his favor. "This isn't over."

"It is for tonight."

He spits at my feet and storms toward the exit. His men follow, one of them throwing a glare over his shoulder.

I look down at the girl. She's trying to push herself up, but her arms keep giving out. The drugs are still heavy in her system.