Not because he loves me. Not because he was worried. Because I'm a possession someone stole.
His bloody hand grips the gear shift, and I remember those same fingers inside me, making me forget my own name. Now they've killed for me. The contradiction, violence and tenderness in the same hands, makes my chest tight. I hate that my body still wants him to touch me, even covered in blood, even when he can barely look at me.
Maybe being his possession is all I deserve to be.
27 - Sofia
The leather seat beneath me might as well be made of broken glass for all the comfort it provides. Ten minutes of driving in silence, Alexei’s bloody hands gripping the wheel while I stare at nothing through the tinted windows. Chicago slides past in a blur of streetlights and shadows, and I can’t make myself speak. Can’t look at him. Can’t do anything except exist.
The smell of gunpowder clings to him, mixing with that cologne that still makes my damn body respond. Even now, even drowning in guilt, heat coils low in my belly. I hate myself for still wanting him when I'm actively destroying everything between us.
He saved me. Killed his own men to get to me. And all I've given him in return is this suffocating silence.
An SUV cuts us off without warning.
Black, no plates, blocking the road completely. Alexei brakes hard, tires screaming against asphalt. My body lurches forward, the seatbelt cutting into my chest, but I barely feel it through the numbness.
Two figures step out of the SUV. Just silhouettes in the headlights at first, but I know them before I can see their faces. The way they move: one with military precision, the other with that quiet grace that speaks louder than words.
Nico. Dante.
Alexei's hand moves to his gun.
"Don't." My voice comes out hoarse, the first word I've spoken since the warehouse. "They're my brothers."
Alexei pulls out his gun anyway and gets out of the car in one fluid motion. The door slams with enough force to echo off the empty buildings around us. A perfect standoff, three men waiting for each other to make the first move.
How did they find us? The question floats through my mind but I can't grasp it, can't care. Maybe they've been watching the warehouse district. Maybe they have contacts who saw the firefight. Maybe it doesn't matter. The Weapon notes automatically: twelve feet to Nico's gun, eight to Dante's. Three seconds to disarm either. But the woman in me just wants to collapse.
Nico and Dante stand armed but not aiming, a perfect standoff where everyone's waiting for someone else to make the first move.
"How did they know where to find us?" Alexei's voice is flat, controlled, but I hear the edge underneath.
I don't answer because I don't know. Don't care.
Nico walks toward the car with his hands visible but ready, that careful balance between non-threatening and prepared for war. The scent of his cinnamon gum reaches me even through the closed window. He quit smoking years ago but never lost the oral fixation. Dante hangs back, watching everything with those dark eyes that miss nothing. Always watching, always understanding more than anyone wants him to.
Nico stops at my window and looks at me through the glass. His hazel eyes scan my face, taking in the blood on my cheek from earlier, the blankness in my expression. I see the moment he understands. Marco must have called him. Told him what I confessed. The guilt sits like broken glass in my throat, cutting me with every swallow, every breath.
But there's no disgust in his face. Just sorrow so deep it makes my chest ache.
Alexei positions himself between his vehicle and Dante. Three killers on a dark street, and my heart breaks knowing I'm the reason they might destroy each other.
"We're taking her home," Nico says, his voice carrying that edge I remember from his military days. The tone that means negotiation is optional but compliance isn't.
"She IS home." Alexei's words come out like bullets. "She's with me."
Even destroyed, even covered in blood, my body responds to his claim. The possessive edge in his voice makes wetness gather between my thighs, and I hate myself for it. How can I still want him when I've already shattered what's between us?
Dante's hands move in swift, precise signs. Nico translates without taking his eyes off Alexei: "She doesn't look like she wants to be with you."
It's not an accusation. It's just truth, delivered with Dante's trademark ability to see through everyone's bullshit. Because I'm sitting in this car like a corpse, unable to look at anyone, unable to want anything except for this to end.
"You kidnapped her," Nico continues, taking a step closer. "Held her prisoner. Now you've dragged her into a war with your own family."
"I just saved her life." Alexei's voice drops to that register that makes my pussy clench. "Killed my own men to get her away from my cousin."
"Your cousin. Your mess." Nico's jaw tightens. "Your family's twisted games that keep pulling her in."
