Bratva Prince (Bratva, #2)

by T.J. Maguire

And yet, none of the Bratva women I’d met had ever shown such a complete and total lack of fear. Except maybe my sister. But she was batshit crazy.

“Run, run, run as fast as you can,” he sang, creeping forward. I couldn’t hear a single step he took. He moved as quietly as a mouse. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d seen him come in, I’d have no idea he was even in the room. Aleksandr crouched to check under the bed. I snuck out from behind the couch and kicked him in the back, yelling, “You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”

“Because I want to be the one to hurt you,” she hissed, slapping me across the face. Oh.