Page 77 of The Bratva Sinner

She opens her mouth to argue, then starts coughing again. This time it’s worse, more painful. She clutches at her chest, and her face goes red.

I stand, ready to call Ava back in, but Lila waves me off. She forces herself to take slow, controlled breaths through the mask until the coughing eases.

“I’m going to check on the horses.” Her voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You can try to stop me, but we both know you won’t.”

She’s right. I could post guards at her door, but she’d just fight them. And fighting would make her lungs worse.

“Fine,” I say, standing. “But not until Ava clears you. And you’re taking a guard with you.”

“Deal.”

I head for the door, then pause. “Lila?”

“What?”

“Thank you. For saving them.”

She nods once before putting the mask back on.

I find Damien in my office with his laptop open. Surveillance footage plays on the screen.

“Tell me you have something.” I close the door behind me.

“Someone cut the sprinkler lines.”

“Get everyone together. I want every person who works here questioned. Security, staff, everyone.”

“Maksim, that’s more than thirty people.”

“I don’t care. Someone betrayed us. Someone put Lila in danger. Find them.”

“And when I do?”

I meet his eyes. “Bring them to me.”

He nods, understanding what that means.

“What else do we know?” I ask.

“Started in the tack room and spread fast. I’ll call one of the investigators on the payroll and have him do what he does.”

“I want to see it.”

We walk out of the house. The smell of smoke in the air is a reminder of how bad it could have been. We walk to the stables, and I get my first glimpse of the damage.

“Where’s Gus?”

“Took the day off. His daughter had a baby.”

Convenient timing.

“How bad is it?”

“Mike said it’s not a total loss. Some damage to the roof and support beams. Nothing we can’t fix. The horses are fine. She got them all out.”

She sure as shit did. Because that’s who she is.

We walk over to the paddock, where the horses are staying as far from the stables as possible. “Call Gus,” I say. “He needs to be here. He can see his grandkid later. This is more important.”