Page 7 of Forced By the Bratva

I’d reported the corrupted files earlier today. In fact, it was the first thing I did this morning. I sent him a clean summary, careful with my wording, while still hinting at what I believed was connected to money laundering.

He hadn’t responded yet.

I’d sent that email at six in the morning. It was already eight p.m., and still no word from him. His silence was killing me, making me second-guess my decision to draft that email in the first place. Did he know about this?

Was he quiet because I’d found out about something I shouldn’t have, or because agents from Tarasov Imports had reached him? The more I thought about this situation, the more unanswered questions popped up in my head. It felt like I was losing my goddamn mind.

I’d been too afraid to leave the house, too paranoid to relax. Every movement outside my apartment seemed suspicious, and I treated each one as such.

I headed to the window in my living room after the neighbor’s dog began barking viciously. Through the blinds, I noticed a black SUV parked across the street. It looked sleek and luxurious, with tinted windows.

No offense, but nobody in this neighborhood was rich enough to afford a ride that expensive. It was probably just someone visiting a friend, a colleague, or a family member.

Right?

But why was the vehicle parked directly across from my apartment? And what in heaven’s name was that dog barking at?

At that instant, my email pinged with a login alert. I hesitated before closing the window and heading back to my workspace. That’s when I noticed someone was trying to access my email from another device and from a location that wasn’t mine.

I sat in my chair and immediately changed my password, my hands trembling and my heart racing.

Who was trying to get access to my email? And why now? Coincidence? I didn’t think so.

I leaned back in my chair, trying to calm myself, when I heard something move outside my window. My head snapped toward the sound, and before I could stop myself, I was already on my feet.

Cautiously, I walked to the window and looked outside. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The black SUV was still parked in the same spot. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Moose, the neighbor’s dog, had stopped barking by now, but something still felt off.

I was deep in my own thoughts when a knock on my door yanked me back to the present. My heart skipped a beat before sinking into my stomach.

My breath caught in my throat and my pulse quickened as I looked toward my front door.

Another knock. Slow. Deliberate, as though whoever was on the other side had all the time in the world.

My eyes shifted to the wall clock. It was almost 8:30 p.m. The night was still too young for anything bad to happen to me. At least that’s what I told myself to try and calm my nerves.

But who could it be? I wasn’t expecting anyone today, let alone at this hour. Part of me thought it might be Eve. Dropping by unannounced was a stunt she’d pulled before.

However, Eve would never knock softly on my door. She’d bang loudly while calling out my name after attempting to barge in without knocking.

Whoever was behind that door was definitely not Evelyn Carter.

Maybe it was a neighbor.

Maybe. Maybe not.

I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I hid it behind my back and cautiously began walking toward the door. Something told me to ignore whoever was knocking; they’d leave if I didn’t respond.

That sounded like a good plan. But I needed to know who was knocking on my door at this time.

The voice came again: Curiosity kills the cat, Iris. Please don’t answer the door.

I swallowed hard, slowly reaching for the knob with trembling hands.

Check the peephole, said another voice.

I did.