The cocky smile falters, replaced by something unreadable and raw. I snatch my hand back, heat flooding my cheeks.
Jesus, why did I do that?
I take several quick steps back, untangling myself from his arms. Distance helps clear my head, sharpening my survival instincts.You’re a witness, Cassandra. Witnesses aren’t supposed to get caught.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I rush out in a single breath, fear flickering to life in my chest. “And I don’t plan to. Ever.”
“Okay,” he says simply, too casual.
But I know better. I saw something that night. Something a man like him can’t afford to have spread around.
The hallway, I realize with growing unease, is empty now. The people who’d been lingering here before have vanished.
He’s isolated me without my noticing.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Menace.” His voice gentles, noting my tension.
The reassurance doesn’t help.
I need to leave. Grab Sophia and get home before he changes his mind. The only thing keeping me rooted is the surprising sincerity in his tone.
“I’m serious. You won’t come to any harm here.” His gaze refocuses on mine, softening in a way that’s almost disarming. “Besides, I owe you my life. The least I can do is buy you a drink.”
His hand drifts to where my fingers had touched, brushing against the phantom wound only we know exists. Something hopeful flickers in his expression, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“No thanks...” I trail off, realizing I don’t even know his name. The owner of the gun hidden beneath my bed stands less than a foot away, and I don’t know his name.
“Mikhail,” he provides, extending his palm in a mockery of introduction—as if we hadn’t sat together in that bloody alley, arguing about ambulances and dying bodies.
I shake my head at the absurdity.
“Cassandra.” I grasp his offered hand, returning the surreal gesture.
Instead of releasing him like a normal person would, I find myself holding on, basking in the warmth and strength of his grip. The moment stretches between us, charged with something I can’t name.
“My friend—I...” Self-awareness floods through me. “I have to go.”
I slip free and spin on my heel, his low chuckle following me down the hallway like a ghost.
When I reachthe bar where Soph still sits, enrapturing her latest conquest with coy smiles, the fear twisting in my stomach has transformed into something more confusing. Adrenaline still courses through me from the encounter, making everything feel dreamlike.
Mikhail.
Finally, a name for the specter haunting every dark corner I’ve passed these last months. But as I replay our conversation, fear isn’t the primary emotion surfacing. He’s undeniably attractive—that sculpted jaw, those piercing eyes echoing the thought I’d had when we first met.
A criminal with pretty eyes.
Though, now I’m not sure what kind of criminal he could be. And I have no idea what to make of what he told me.
I brush Sophia’s shoulder to announce my return, then reach for her drink and drain it in one gulp. She cuts off mid-sentence, mouth agape as her eyebrows shoot up.
“You good, Cass?” Genuine concern colors her voice as she gives me a once-over.
“Yeah, just thirsty.” I force a smile.
Sophia gets so few opportunities to relax. I won’t ruin her night out with my complications, even if I do think she deserves better than the selfish prick she’s settled for.
I slide onto the barstool, resting my elbows on the glossy obsidian surface. Despite Mikhail’s nonchalant front, I can’t shake my skepticism. The man wasshot. That has to mess with someone. But the way he promised I’d be safe, the seriousness in his gaze when he mentioned owing me his life...he’d have to be an incredible actor to fake that authenticity.
