Page 55 of The Bratva Betrayal

His towel.

His life.

Meanwhile, I’m standing barefoot in my kitchen, glaring toward the hallway while he takes a long shower after forcing himself into my apartment under the guise of protecting me.

Please.

I dump a handful of blueberries into a bowl while steam drifts faintly from beneath the bathroom door down the hall.

“You’re using all my hot water,” I yell out.

“Buy more,” his voice carries back.

Before I can come up with a violent enough response to satisfy me, my front door flies open hard enough to slam against the wall.

I jump. Rian storms in first, with Killian right behind him, and one look at their faces tells me somebody talked.

My brothers have the same coloring I do—reddish blond hair, blue eyes, and pale Irish skin, but where I learned how to soften mine into something approachable, they wear theirs like warnings.

Rian especially.

At thirty-four, my older brother has mastered the art of looking perfectly composed while still making everyone in the room understand he’s dangerous. Expensive black coat, fitted slacks, a watch worth more than most people’s cars, and eyes sharp enough to cut through concrete.

Killian’s hair is a mess, his tie is halfway loose, and his temper spills into the room before he even shuts the door.

“What the fuck, Cady?” he snaps.

I close my eyes briefly because I’m in for a verbal match of two on one, and I don’t like my odds.

“Someone shoots at your car, and you don’t call us?” Killian demands. “Are you out of your mind?”

Rian’s eyes move over me, checking for injuries.

“You’re okay?” he asks flatly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

I roll my eyes because it’s not. “It’s a scratch.”

“A scratch from a bullet,” Killian grinds out.

“From glass,” I correct, motioning toward the hallway. “Would you two keep your voices down?”

That gets their attention.

Killian’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

Because Artem Makarov is in my shower.

Instead, I say, “Misha stayed over.”

Killian groans. “Jesus Christ.”

Rian’s expression darkens. “Why is he here after this happened?”

“He was already here. What are you two even doing here?”