I bristle at that, stung. “I wasn’t—” I falter, hating the quiver in my voice. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”
He laughs. The sound is low, warm, a thread of pleasure winding through it. “Really.” He gestures toward the rows of monitors. “Did you hope to learn something about me no one else knows?”
I can’t look away. The force of his attention pins me to the spot. Every instinct screams to run, but I can’t move.
He leans closer, hands braced on either side of the desk, trapping me without ever touching. His scent—smoke, leather, a whisper of something darker—closes in.
“I wonder, Sera, which answer you’d give if I pressed you.”
My pride snaps back, brittle but unbroken. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you were as smart as you think you are,” I shoot back, summoning every ounce of bravado I have left.
His lips curve, not in anger but amusement. “Careful. Flattery is dangerous in my world.”
“I wasn’t flattering you,” I snap, though my voice comes out softer than I’d like.
He tilts his head, examining me as if I’m a puzzle to be solved. “You should have called for help. There’s a panic button in the drawer.” His eyes flick to the hidden panel, then back to mine, gauging whether I’ll take the bait. “You could have tried to run. Fought harder.”
I don’t answer. My hands tremble on the edge of the desk, heat flooding my cheeks.
He doesn’t press further. Instead, he lingers, letting the silence settle heavy between us. The glow of code scrolls over the walls, reflections flickering across his skin. I see myself mirrored there—pale, cornered, eyes wide.
After a moment, he eases back a step, giving me room to breathe. The amusement in his eyes is softer now, almost fond. “You’re not here because you’re weak, Sera. Or foolish. You’re here because you’re interesting. You want answers, even if they burn you.”
I blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “So what? You’re going to punish me for being curious?”
He shrugs. “Curiosity is a blade with two edges. It cuts deep sometimes in ways you can’t heal from. I’m not your enemy for wanting to know the truth. I am the one who decides what you get to see.”
Something in me twists at that. He’s not wrong. I crave answers, crave the map beneath the chaos. It’s just that in his world, every answer seems to cost a piece of myself I might not get back.
He turns, as if to leave, then pauses in the doorway. “I’ll change the codes tomorrow,” he says, not quite threatening, more like a promise. “If you want to keep up, you’ll have to work harder.”
The dare in his voice is unmistakable. He’s not locking the cage tighter; he’s daring me to find the gaps.
I watch him go, heart pounding, and realize with a strange mix of dread and exhilaration that he wants me to play. This isn’t about obedience, not really. It’s about the chase. The game.
Left alone in the hum and flicker of his digital fortress, I press my hand to my chest, feeling the thud of my heartbeat. I’ve never felt so exposed, or so alive.
Chapter Twelve - Miron
I close the distance, step by calculated step, never hurrying. The office’s shadows move with me, tall and watchful.
Sera’s body is taut as a bowstring, braced for whatever comes next, yet she refuses to look away. Her rebellion—a trespass into my world, hands on my keys, eyes on my secrets—should demand fury. Instead, it thrills me.
Rules exist for a reason. The Bratva is order carved out of chaos, and my control is the knife. I let the silence draw tight between us, my gaze never leaving hers. I want her to feel the weight of the moment, the consequence not just for what she’s done, but for daring to hope she could get away with it.
I stop in front of her, so close I can feel the uneven rhythm of her breath. She tries to steady herself, lifting her chin in challenge.
“Every action here matters,” I tell her, my voice pitched low, smooth as the knife I keep hidden in my belt. “Every glance, every secret step you take when you think I’m not watching—carries weight. There are rules, Sera. You break them, you pay the price.”
She bristles. “So what’s my punishment? More ropes, another cage?”
Her mouth is sharp, meant to wound. I let her have the words; they’re teeth bared in the dark, nothing more. I lean in, just enough that my hand brushes the line of her jaw, the column of her neck. Her skin is hot, her pulse wild under my palm.
She flinches but refuses to back away. Her stare dares me to do my worst. There’s a hunger in her, bright and wild, that mirrors my own.
“Curious,” I murmur, thumb stroking her pulse, “how you don’t shrink from this. You know you’re in trouble, yet you don’t run.”
Her breath hitches. She’s trembling, but not just from fear. Her lips part, eyes dark and wide. I let my hand trail down, hovering at her collarbone, over her shirt, not quite touching, just close enough to promise. The tension between us crackles, sharp and dangerous. I could crush her, bend her, break her with a word. Instead, I savor her defiance. I want her angry. I want her needing.
