Page 4 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

Nothing.

No response.

I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand, my mind reeling with a million thoughts. At this point, I couldn’t even focus on the files across the room. I just felt an aching need to get the hell out of here.

After a moment of hesitation, I finally summoned the courage to grab the door handle. Quietly, I pulled it open, keeping the soft creak to a minimum. I stuck my head out, eyes scanning the empty hallway.

“Frankie?” I called with a quiet whisper. “Frankie, you there?”

Still no response.

I waited a moment longer, then straightened my spine and stepped into the corridor. The plan was to head downstairs and then go straight home. But everything changed when I spotted a trail of blood on the floor.

It was nothing dramatic—just a few drops leading down the hall. That’s when it hit me that whoever those men were, they must have had a hostage with them. And this was the blood of their victim.

That’s a story right there, a voice said to me.

That was the voice that always got me into trouble: the voice of curiosity and audacity.

Remember, the plan is to get home safe and sound, another voice said to me. The voice of reason. Just go home, Aria.

You came here to gather information on the financial corruption of this industrial site. Whatever pictures you took in that archive aren’t enough for your research. But if you follow this trail of blood, I’m sure you’ll have more than enough for your paper.

My voice of curiosity and audacity struck a hard bargain.

Listen to me, Aria, if you go down that road, you might get us into more trouble.

I stood there, stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. Both voices were right. But as much as I wanted to leave, I couldn’t just run away without first trying to understand what was going on.

My gaze shifted between the blood trail and the staircase ahead of me. I thought for a moment, then decided to go check the blood.

This is a bad idea, my voice of reason said.

It wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. The new plan was to follow the trail, see where it led, get a grip on what was happening, and that was it. Easy peasy.

And so I traced the faint drops of blood, my heart hammering in my chest. My shoes were as silent as they could be against the floor.

It’s not too late to turn back.

I ignored the whisper in my head and kept going, rounding different corners. Then I heard it—the voices.

There was a red door slightly ajar across the hall, and I rushed over in a few long strides. I hid behind the door, my back against the wall. From here, I could hear them clearly inside.

They were speaking Russian, their voices low but chaotic. When I dared to sneak a peek, I saw about five huge men towering over an older man who was kneeling before another man in a black suit.

The guards were armed with pistols fitted with silencers.

I didn’t get a good look at the man in the black suit, but the aura he exuded was strong enough to make me weak in the knees. He commanded attention without even speaking, and the way the kneeling man looked up at him told me he was the boss.

“You can’t kill me,” the kneeling man said, blood dripping from his bottom lip. “I’m one of the Bratva’s most profitable business partners.”

Bratva? I thought to myself. Like the Russian mafia?

Oh, hell no! my voice of reason sparked. That’s it; get outta here, now.

“Someone else will take your place,” the boss said, his voice deep, husky, and menacing.

I watched one of the huge men march forward from behind, his arm around the kneeling man’s neck. My eyes widened in horror as I witnessed cold-blooded murder unfolding right in front of me.