I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to hold onto the truth that at least I know. That the endless questions, the sleepless nights, the pit in my chest…can finally rest. But his mocking tone keeps tearing at me, dragging me back into grief, into anger, until the relief slips like water through my fingers.
I can’t even mourn. Not with him standing here, gloating. Not with the weight of his hatred pressing down on me.
I clamp down on the fear crawling up my spine, forcing it back into the pit of my stomach. My wrists burn where the rope digs in, but I sit straighter, refusing to shrink under his glare.
“You think you’re terrifying me?” I say, my voice dripping with mockery. “Please. I’ve seen scarier things than a washed-up Bratva reject with thinning hair and a beer gut.”
His nostrils flare, and that only fuels me. I lean forward as far as the ropes allow, narrowing my eyes. “You want me to cower? To beg? Forget it. You’re not half the man you think you are. If you lay one finger on me, Niko will tear you apart piece by piece—and he won’t stop until there’s nothing left of you to bury.”
The silence stretches, sharp as broken glass. His jaw tightens, his eyes flash, but I don’t let up. I smirk through the hammering of my heart. “So go on, Kirill. Prove me right. Make your move. Let’s see how long you last before Niko ends you.”
Inside, I’m shaking so badly I can barely breathe—but I don’t let him see it. I can’t. Not now.
Niko. Where are you?
Kirill’s lip curls. “Niko will never find out. By the time he’s even looking, you’ll already be dead. I’ll dump your body in the river where no one will ever think to look, and then I’ll point the finger at one of his rivals. Let the bratvas burn each other down while I watch. A war will cover every trace of what really happened to you.”
His words are deliberate, almost savoring the horror he expects from me.
I let out a shaky laugh, more sharp than soft, and lift my chin. “That’s your grand plan? Dump me in a river like some cheap hit job and hope Niko buys it?” I shake my head slowly, eyes narrowing. “You clearly don’t know him the way you think you do. He’ll tear through every bratva, every street, every corner of this city until he finds out the truth. And when hedoes…” I lean forward as much as the ropes will allow, my voice a razor’s edge, “…you’ll be the one floating in that river.”
Kirill’s smile twists into something cruel, his faded eyes sharpening like shards of glass. He steps closer, lowering his voice until I can feel the venom in every word.
“You think he’ll come for you,devushka?” he hisses. “You’re nothing but a distraction to him—a toy he plays with between wars. When you’re gone, he’ll bleed the city for a week, maybe two. Then he’ll move on, find another warm body to keep his bed from going cold.”
He leans in, breath hot against my ear. “But me? I’ll make sure you don’t just die, Noelle. I’ll make you disappear so completely, even your ghost won’t know where to look for itself.”
Anton’s head snaps toward him, his dark eyes flashing wide. “What the fuck are you saying?” His voice cracks with a mix of anger and disbelief, and for the first time since he walked in, he looks shaken. “You can’t just kill her.”
Kirill doesn’t flinch. He straightens, expression carved in stone, his jaw ticking as though Anton’s protest barely warrants acknowledgment. “Don’t be a fool. She was never yours to keep,” he says coldly, his tone dripping with disdain. “She’s leverage. A tool. And now, she’s nothing but a liability. The girl lives, and everything I’ve built—everything I’ve clawed back from ruin—comes crashing down.”
He gestures toward me with a flick of his hand, as if I’m already a corpse. “You got attached to the bait, Anton. That was your mistake. But don’t confuse yourself—she was never more than a means to an end.”
I force a laugh, sharp and brittle, though my pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my teeth. “You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you? Hiding behind Anton, behind your little smoke and mirrors. Pretending to be Niko’s ally while you play puppet master.”
The words come out steady, but inside, I’m trembling, every nerve screaming. My body wants to collapse, to give in to the terror pressing against my ribs, but I won’t let him see it. If this is all I have left—my mouth, my words—I’ll use them like a blade.
Kirill just grins wider, amused, like my defiance is a toy he enjoys breaking. The sight sends a chill so deep through me, I almost choke on it.
Anton steps in fast, shoving himself between me and Kirill like he’s shielding me. His jaw is tight, black eyes flashing as he snaps, “Enough! She’s not dying. Not like that.”
For a moment, Kirill just stares at him, surprised. Then he laughs—low and mocking. “You’re still clinging to her? Pathetic. She’s never been yours, Anton. Not then, not now.”
The room feels like it’s shrinking around us, my pulse roaring in my ears. Anton’s fists clench at his sides, and he looks like he might actually explode.
Kirill’s hand dips into his coat with a deliberate slowness, and when it emerges, the gleam of black steel makes my stomach twist. He levels the gun at me with a predator’s calm, his finger resting far too comfortably on the trigger.
“Move,” he says flatly, his tone not raised, not sharp—just an order that brooks no hesitation.
And to my horror, Anton obeys.
He steps aside, his frame no longer shielding me, leaving me fully exposed in the crosshairs. My breath catches in my throat. For one insane second, I can’t even process it.
Kirill’s mouth curves into something cruel, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Cold. Triumphant. He almost looks pleased to watch my realization sink in.
The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the warehouse. My pulse roars in my ears. And though I keep my face forward, steady, inside I’m screaming—because now, I finally see just howruthless Kirill truly is, and just how dangerous Anton’s weakness can be.
Kirill’s finger tightens, the faintest click of pressure on the trigger, and my chest caves in with dread. This is it. This is how it ends. My throat burns, tears sting behind my closed eyelids, and all I can do is brace for the shattering pain that never comes.
