They drag her to the center of the room, her hair coming loose from its tie, face flushed and furious. She thrashes, nearly breaks free again, but Pavel tightens his grip, locking her in place as Anton re-secures her wrists. She glares at me, defiance painted across every inch of her.
Her breaths come ragged, chest heaving, and I can see the taste of almost-escape on her lips; bitter, unforgettable. She wants to scream, but she won’t give me that satisfaction. I watch her jaw flex, the calculation behind her eyes. She’s thinking, always thinking, even now.
“You could have walked away, Sera.” My voice is soft, threading through the tension. “But you kept digging. Youcouldn’t help yourself. Now there are rules. My rules. You’ll obey, or you’ll suffer.”
She tries to spit again, but her mouth is too dry. Instead, she shakes her head, eyes wide and wild. “You won’t get away with this. Someone will come looking for me.”
“Perhaps, but not soon enough.” I let her see the certainty in my expression, the calm conviction of a man who’s planned every angle, closed every door. “You’re in my world now.”
Pavel’s hands are steady on her shoulders, holding her upright as she fights for breath. She stares at me with raw hatred. The sight pleases me. I want her furious, sharp, unbroken… at least for now. Fear makes people predictable. Rage keeps them interesting.
I nod, and Pavel releases her, just enough for her to stand on her own. The ropes remain, wrists raw and marked. She sways, knees nearly buckling. I rise from my chair, approach her at a measured pace, savoring the tension that twists through her body.
“Look at me,” I command.
She hesitates, then meets my gaze, chin lifted in defiance. There is terror there, yes, but also that spark I saw on the dance floor, the same stubborn streak that made her run tonight. I want to see how long it lasts.
“I’ll ask once,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “Who else have you spoken to about me? About Sharov?”
She holds my gaze, unflinching. “No one. Not really. Not anyone who matters.”
A half lie. I can smell it. Still, I let it pass. “You’re clever. You know what happens to people who cross me.”
She doesn’t look away. “You think you can scare me into silence?”
“I know I can.” I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She recoils, fury warring with fear.
For a moment, the room holds its breath. My men stand like sentinels, waiting for my word. The only sound is Sera’s breathing, ragged and defiant.
“You’re going to work for me now, Sera. You’ll use that clever mind to do what I say, when I say it. In return, you’ll live. Defy me, and you’ll beg for the mercy you wasted tonight.”
Her eyes blaze, every muscle taut with refusal. I feel a surge of satisfaction. She’s not broken, not yet. That’s good. I prefer my games with a little resistance.
I step back, giving her space to breathe. The power in the room is mine, but I want her to feel the weight of it—total, inescapable.
“Welcome to the shadows, little raven,” I say. “You may struggle, but you will not escape.”
She glares, hatred and resolve burning bright. I savor it all. The game is only beginning.
I close the distance, step by careful step, the soft soles of my shoes nearly silent against the wood. The light in her apartment is harsh, sterile, illuminating every trembling muscle, every defiant glare she throws my way. Her wrists are still bound, arms tense as if she could will herself out of the ropes through sheer hatred alone.
She tries to shrink back, but there’s nowhere left to go. The wall is at her back, my men flanking either side, and all her frantic courage drains into something quieter. Not surrender—never that—but a simmering, helpless fury that I find more intoxicating than any victory.
“You remember the masked ball,” I say quietly, letting the words linger, watching as they cut through her. “The music, thesilk, the game of strangers. You remember the dance. My hand on your waist. My voice in your ear.”
I see the flicker in her eyes, memory surging behind the panic. Her lips part, a soft gasp escaping before she snaps her teeth shut, as if denying me even that small satisfaction. Her eyes are enormous, pupils blown wide as she stares at me, horror dawning.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispers. The words are rough, strangled.
I nod, enjoying the moment. “From the very start, Sera. You thought you could unravel my world from the outside, but you were in the center from the first note. All that code, all those clever solutions—they led you here, to me.”
She lets out a shaking breath, fury flooding in to cover the fear. “You’re sick. All this just to play with me?”
I circle her slowly, not rushing a step, letting her feel every inch of my control. She tracks me with her eyes, never blinking, chin raised in something like challenge. I pause behind her, lean in so my mouth is close to her ear.
“You made yourself interesting. You poked at monsters and then acted surprised when they bit back. Did you think you could outmaneuver me? Did you think this was ever your game?”
She jerks away, as much as the ropes allow, and spits out, “You’re a coward. Hiding behind masks and codes. Hurting people who can’t fight back.”
