Dark Obsession: An Age Gap, Bratva Romance (Chicago Bratva Series)

I make my way a few blocks from the mansion to Shaw Park.

There’s a crisp bite in the air, the kind that makes it feel like the first snowfall of the season is just around the corner.

I walk slowly, trying to enjoy the fresh air, but it’s hard to feel free with one bodyguard in front of me and another looming behind.

They make me feel caged in, like I can’t even breathe without them monitoring it.

I pull out my phone for what must be the hundredth time, checking for any sign of life from Grigori. Nothing. No text, no call. It’s like he’s just vanished.

The wind picks up, swirling fallen leaves around my boots. I tuck my hands deeper into my pockets, hoping something changes soon.

I plop down on a nearby bench, staring out at the near-empty park. It’s too cold and gray for most people, I guess. The bodyguards keep their distance but still hover, making me feel like I’m never truly alone.

I sigh, pulling out my phone again and aimlessly scrolling, not really looking for anything in particular, just hoping that I’ll see a notification from Grigori.

Nothing.

With an irritated huff, I shove my phone deep into my pocket, trying to pretend I don’t care. I glance at the guards, standing like statues, always watching.

My personal prison wardens.

As I sit there, a man selling pretzels walks by, the steam from the hot bread swirling in the cold air. He waves at me, slow and casual. I nod back out of politeness, but I’m already lost in thought again, my mind drifting back to Grigori.

I swear, if I could poke my brain with something and make it stop thinking about him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s like he’s taken up permanent residence in my head, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake him.

Suddenly, a sound cuts through the air, like the soft hiss of a silenced gun.

I freeze.

My heart leaps into my throat and I quickly glance around. What the hell is going on? The guards haven’t moved. My body tenses, the air around me suddenly feeling heavier.

Something’s not right.

All of a sudden one of the guards staggers before collapsing slowly into a heap on the ground.

I whip around to see the other guard’s instincts finally kicking in as he pulls out his gun. I catch sight of another cart rolling closer—this one selling hot dogs.

Another muffled shot and the second guard drops, crumpling like a rag doll.

My heart slams in my chest and it clicks in an instant. The vendors—they’re not vendors. They’re assailants, and they’re coming for me.

I dive behind the bench, trying to make myself as small as possible.

I’m out in the open and vulnerable. If I don’t move fast, I’ll be next.

My hands are shaking as I press myself against the cold metal, peering through the slats of the bench, my breath caught in my throat.

I spot the so-called vendors, yanking guns out from their carts, their faces stoic and focused. They shout to each other in Spanish, their movements coordinated. These guys aren’t amateurs. This was a hit.

My blood runs cold. Fuck. I can’t stay here. I need to think, I need to move—fast.

But there’s no cover, nowhere to hide. I’m completely exposed. My mind races, adrenaline spiking as I look around, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to survive this.

Then things go from bad to worse. A van screeches to a stop at the entrance of the park. My stomach drops as the back doors swing open and three men jump out, all of them armed to the teeth.

One of them stands out immediately—he’s tall, heavily tattooed, and wearing a balaclava. He starts barking orders, and the others fan out, guns raised.

My mind is racing as I glance over my shoulder toward the wooded area behind me. It’s obvious they’re trying to trap me, to block off all the normal exits. But they won’t expect me to run into the woods.

It’s my only chance.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest, as I leap to my feet and bolt for the trees. My boots crunch against the dirt as I sprint toward the wooded area, the cold wind biting at my face. I can hear them shouting, and I know they’ve spotted me.

I don’t look back. I run, tearing through the park and into the woods, grateful for the cover.

The shouts in Spanish get louder, more frantic.

Then I hear it—the unmistakable sound of silenced gunfire, bullets splintering into the bark of the trees around me.

My heart’s in my throat, hammering so hard I can barely hear my own thoughts. I have to keep moving or I’m dead.

I run deeper into the woods, legs burning, lungs aching, but I can’t stop. Not for a second. I duck behind a thick tree, pressing my back against the rough bark, trying to catch my breath. Through the trees, I spot the old brick wall that forms the border of the park.

Almost there.

I inch forward, silently making my way through the trees, trying to put distance between me and the men fanning out behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see them getting closer, their shadows flitting between the trees.

They’re moving fast, and I can hear what I assume is Claudio’s voice loud and clear, barking orders in Spanish. “Separarse y encontrarla,” he says.

I don’t speak much Spanish, but I know that means split up and find her.

They’re closing in. I grit my teeth and move. There’s no way in hell I’m letting them catch me.

I can hear leaves crunching beneath heavy boots as footsteps approach. My pulse thunders in my ears. He’s so close now, I can almost hear him breathing.

I spot him, moving just in front of me, scanning the trees. It won’t take long before he turns and spots my hiding place.

I glance around, my eyes darting frantically for something—anything—to defend myself with. That’s when I see it, a rock, half-buried in the dirt. It’s not huge, but it’ll do the job if I can get close enough.

Don’t hesitate, I tell myself, hearing Grigori’s voice in my head. Hesitation means death.

I grip the rock tightly, inching forward slowly, quietly. My hands tremble, but I keep going, raising it above my head as I get closer. Just when I’m close enough, he turns.

Bam. The rock connects with his face, the impact sending him staggering back, his eyes wide with shock.

But before I can catch my breath, his finger clamps down on the trigger of the machine gun, spraying bullets wildly into the air. The deafening sound rips through the trees, and I know I’ve just set off the alarm for every assassin in the park.

He stumbles, falling backward and smacking his head against a tree with a sickening thud. He’s out cold, but that’s only a small comfort. One guy down, but now everyone knows exactly where I am.

I hear frantic shouts in Spanish coming closer now. My heart slams against my ribs, and I don’t think, I just run. My legs pump as hard as they can, my boots hitting the ground in a desperate rhythm as I make a mad dash for the brick wall.

More shouting. They’re closing in.

I reach the wall, jump, and grab hold of the top. My fingers scrape against the rough brick as I start pulling myself up. But before I can go any further, I feel a hand clamping down on my ankle, yanking me back.

‘Not so fast, chica.”

I’m pulled down hard onto the cold dirt, the air knocked from my lungs.

The man towers over me, gun in hand, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. He pulls off his balaclava, revealing a face I’ll never forget—scarred, with a jagged line running from his left eyebrow down across his cheek, splitting his lip in a permanent sneer. Definitely Claudio Sanchez.

His eyes are cold and dead, the kind that tell you he’s not the type to leave survivors.

I try to scramble backward, but he levels the gun at me, his voice low and menacing.

“Move one more inch, and I’ll make this little park your graveyard.”

I freeze, my mind racing. Behind him, I can hear the other men catching up, their footsteps pounding closer through the trees.

Claudio smirks, eyes glinting. “Took some doing but I finally found you. And now that you’re in my possession, getting to my real target will be a piece of cake.”

My blood boils despite my fear. “I’m no one’s possession.”

He laughs, an evil, unsettling sound, then squats down in front of me, close enough that I can smell the metallic tang of his sweat.

“I like your spunk.” His grin is sickening, his face too close, eyes trailing down my body.

Grigori’s voice echoes in my head. Never hesitate.

Without thinking, I slam my palm into his nose. He curses in Spanish, doubling over. I’m on my feet in an instant, kicking him square in the face before he can recover.

With a burst of adrenaline, I vault over the brick wall, my feet slamming hard into the pavement on the other side. Pain shoots through my ankles and I stumble, barely catching myself as I hit the sidewalk.

My legs feel like jelly, my breath ragged, but I can’t stop. Not now.

Behind me, I hear faint shouting in Spanish, the gunmen finally reaching the spot where I’d been just seconds ago.

Too late, assholes.

But I know they won’t give up that easily.

I limp down the sidewalk, trying to move as quickly as my throbbing feet will allow. Every step feels like fire shooting up my legs, but I push through it, glancing around frantically. I spot a taxi cruising down the street, and without thinking, I wave my arms, practically throwing myself into the street to get its attention.

The cab screeches to a stop, and I yank the door open, climbing inside as quickly as I can. I collapse into the back seat, my heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins like wildfire.

“Where to, lady?” the driver asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I give him Luk’s address and close my eyes.

Grigori’s gone, my brothers are clueless, and Claudio’s got me in his sights.

But one thing’s clear—I’m in deep now, and there’s no escaping.