What the hell do I do now?
The question circles in my mind as the sun rises. I should be planning my next move. Figuring out how to use the meager information she’s given me. Deciding what to do with her.
Instead, I watch the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional flutter of her eyelids as she dreams. And I wonder if, after all the terrible things I’ve done in my life, there’s any path forward that doesn’t end in more blood, death, and emptiness.
Doubtful. Men like me don’t get redemption arcs. We get bullets or prison cells.
But for now, for just a few minutes, with her sleeping peacefully on my couch, I allow myself to imagine a different life. An impossible one.
Chyort vozmi.I can’t afford to think like this.
She’s a witness. I’m Kozlov Bratva. All I need to do—all Ishoulddo—is extract the information she has on Benny. Then, one way or another, I can rid myself of her disarming presence and return to my ordered life.
Chapter 10
Aurora
I wake with a jolt, heart hammering before my eyes even open. The memory hits as consciousness returns.
The alley, the gun, the blood. Benny’s dead eyes boring into mine. Being gagged. Bound. Kidnapped. Questioned. Conjuring up a fictional guy from the bar named Harry just to buy myself some time.
For one blessed second, I cling to the hope that I’ve spent the last fifteen plus hours trapped in some long, hyper-realistic fever dream. Then I blink away the blurriness and notice the twenty-foot-high industrial ceiling overhead.
Ice sinks into my bones.
Not a nightmare. My new reality.
My body aches as I push myself up on the couch. The buttery-soft fabric beneath me doesn’t belong in the same universe as zip ties and executions. I’m still wearing that ridiculous maid costume, which is now dirty and wrinkled beyond salvation.
The next time someone abducts me, I hope I’m in jeans.
Sunlight streams through enormous windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling along one wall of the loft. Dust motes dance in the beams, glittering like tiny stars inthe otherwise sterile space. After last night’s darkness, the brightness is almost offensive. The light illuminates everything I couldn’t discern before. The cold precision of this place, the emptiness. Beautiful and barren, like an abandoned set created for a magazine spread.
The loft stretches forever in all directions, a concrete and steel cage disguised as luxury. Polished concrete floors reflect the morning glow. The furniture sits in lonely islands across the vast expanse. Everything is expensive. Everything is soulless. Even the air, temperature-controlled to perfection, feels curated.
“You’re awake.”
I flinch at the flat, emotionless voice, my head whipping toward the source.
He lounges in the same chair he had last night, watching me from across the coffee table. Alexei. The murderer. My kidnapper. My savior? Captor? I don’t know what to call him anymore.
The morning light unveils details I missed last night. The shadows under his eyes and the tension in his jaw. And far, far too many muscles. They ripple in his forearm as the coin dances in his hand.
The actions show off a plethora of scars. Most are straight, white, and flat. Likely from a knife. Our bartenders have the same kind of scars. Though I suspect that Alexei didn’t get his from slicing citrus fruits. A similar mark resides just under his jaw. Other lumpier ones span his knuckles. From punching, I bet.
So many signs of violence embedded in his flesh.
He doesn’t move or approach. Just assesses me with those cool, intense bright blue eyes that notice everything. The silence between us stretches, taut as a wire.
I clear my throat, which feels desiccated. How the hell did I manage to sleep with a predator nearby?
With the steaming mug in his hand, he gestures toward the door I used last night. “You know where the bathroom is. Feel free to shower.”
A brittle laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “A shower? Seriously?”
His expression remains unchanged. “You’ve got blood in your hair.”
My hand flies to my head. I touch the stiff, crusty patches where Benny’s blood dried overnight. My stomach lurches.
