Ruthless Bratva King (New York Russian Mafia Kings #1)

2. Elena

2

ELENA

“ E lena?” Veronica says as I pull the apartment door open to let her in. “You okay?”

I step back, and she gasps as she sees the wall behind me. Her mouth drops open, and Veronica—the human megaphone—is speechless for once.

“Yeah,” I say flatly, waving at the words. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

She steps closer, inspecting the carved letters with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. “What the hell…” She turns to me, her big brown eyes wide. “So when are the cops getting here?”

“They’re not.”

“What? Why not?”

“Told me to drop it. Couldn’t get me off the phone fast enough.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Said I should count myself lucky because, apparently, the Bratva King has never left anyone alive before.”

“Those useless—” She stops herself, running a hand over her face. “Okay. New plan. We go to the cop shop. We sit there and refuse to leave until they take this seriously. But first…” She grabs my arm and steers me toward the bed. “Sit. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I slump onto the edge of the mattress, still shaking. “Last night, they weren’t yelling; they were whispering. I went through to find out what was happening, but they just told me to go to bed. Then I woke up this morning, and they were gone. All of them. And that-” I point at the wall “-was there instead.”

She puts an arm around me. “Pack a bag. You’re staying at my place tonight.”

I blink at her. “Why?”

“Because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone in this house with that”—she gestures at the wall—“looming over you and whoever wrote it still out there. North Shore’s on the way. We’ll call in and shove a firework up their useless asses.”