Bratva Prince (Bratva, #2)

by T.J. Maguire

My baby sister is in there. From the moment she was born, it has been my job to protect her, to keep her safe and look out for her.

“If you’re gonna kill me, kill me. I’m not afraid to die. So if you’re gonna do it, hurry up. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my face.” For the briefest moment, all I could do was stare at her in shock. I could tell by the

look in her eyes she was entirely serious. She wasn’t scared to die. There wasn’t an ounce of fear on her face. Just total calmness, complete ease, like this was just another day at the office. I’d never met a woman like her. She was fearless. Even in the face of death.

Except maybe my sister. But she was batshit crazy.

But she wanted to fuck me too. And that was okay. Hate sex was fucking amazing.

He pounded his chest like a gorilla. “Hulk angry,” he grunted, imitating me. That little shit.

Especially when you took into account the fact that Aleksandr was my kidnapper. I shouldn’t want his attention, his touch. I shouldn’t want to feel his breath on my skin,

“I love you so much it hurts. It physically hurts to be without you, to not see you. To not speak to you. To think of you gone. You’ve managed to burn yourself into my mind, my soul. Branded yourself in my heart. So, now you own it.”