Every bump in the road jolts her slightly, but she doesn’t flinch. Her chest rises and falls in sharp rhythm, but her composure holds.
She waits. Maybe she thinks this ride is the beginning of her end.
She might be right, or she might prove herself something far worse than an enemy.
Until I decide, the silence remains.
The SUV rolls off the main road, tires crunching over gravel as the city’s lights fall behind us. No one speaks. Dimitri’s eyes stay fixed on the windshield, his hands steady on the wheel. I don’t need to tell him where to go; he already knows. We’ve used this warehouse before—storage, negotiations, punishments that needed privacy. It’s not a place you stumble into by chance.
Vivienne sits rigid in the seat opposite me. Her wrists are bound, her face half lit by the passing glow of streetlights. She doesn’t look out the window, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t waste breath on questions. Calm. Always calm. I don’t know if it’s strength or arrogance, and it doesn’t matter yet.
When the SUV finally halts, the night is quiet enough to hear the tick of the cooling engine. Dimitri kills the headlights.The building rises in front of us—steel doors, corrugated siding, a hollow shell of brick and shadows.
“Out,” I order.
Dimitri opens her door. She doesn’t resist when I haul her out by the arm, her shoes scraping against the gravel. The air here is colder, sharper, carrying the faint tang of rust. I march her across the lot, her bag still lying abandoned back in the alley where I first pinned her. She doesn’t ask for it.
The door groans when I drag it open. The warehouse inside is cavernous, walls stained with time, echoes stretching high into the rafters. Empty, except for a single chair waiting in the center of the concrete floor.
I shove her forward. She stumbles once, then catches herself, standing tall even with her wrists bound. The chair waits.
“Sit.”
For the first time, her mask wavers. Not fear—something tighter, a flicker of calculation—but she obeys, lowering herself onto the chair without a word.
I circle her once, slow, my boots striking hard against the floor. The sound fills the space, heavy as a drumbeat. She tracks me with her eyes but doesn’t move otherwise.
Finally, I stop in front of her. My voice cuts sharp through the cold.
“You lied to me.”
Not a question. A statement.
Her lips part, then close again. Silence.
I lean closer, bracing one hand against the back of the chair, the other gripping her chin briefly, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Don’t waste time pretending. Don’t insult me with denials.”
She says nothing.
I release her, step back, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. She sits perfectly still, shoulders squared, eyes forward, as though waiting for the blow.
I turn and walk to the door. The lock clicks loud in the silence as I twist it shut, sealing her inside.
The sound echoes long after I leave, bouncing through the cavernous room until it’s the only thing left.
She’s alone now, but not safe. I haven’t decided what comes next.
That—more than the chair, more than the cold, more than the silence—is what should scare her most.
***
The SUV idles outside, smoke curling from the exhaust into the dark. Dimitri waits near the hood, his eyes lifting when I step back out. He doesn’t ask questions yet, but I see them there.
“She’s not who she says she is,” I tell him flatly.
He nods once, his jaw tight. “You want me to keep men on her?”
“No.” I light a cigarette, the flame flaring against the dark. “No one touches her. Not yet.”
