“Edi na khuy.”Go fuck yourself.
He tsks, grinning wider. “Not in front of my son.”
Kirill glances over at him, then back at me with that same sneer tugging his mouth.
I sink back into my chair, the glow of the monitors around me as I glare at him. “You have to know the enemy inside and out.”
As I flip to another feed, there she is again, caught in the grainy lens, waiting for the light to change. Zooming in on her face, I catch the tightness in her jaw.
What’s running through that sharp little mind of hers?
Is it me? The ghost of my hands still on her?
The vineyard crumbling under her parents’ feet?
Or is it something else? Something I haven’t uncovered yet?
Kirill’s chuckle yanks me back to reality. “Are you sure that’s all she is? Just the enemy?”
“Of course.” The words grind out between my teeth.
Of course that’s all she is. A venomous woman who should thank me for what I did for her instead of wanting me to rot.
But even if I told her the truth, she would only perfect her hate. That’s who Fiona Clark is. She paints the world in black and white, and men like me—men who crawl in the shadows—might as well be the devil himself.
And this devil is going to enjoy proving her right.
Kirill’s laugh rumbles deeper until my temper claws to the surface. “You can’t even focus on what we’re talking about without staring at her. I think you’ve been infected.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I think I’m hilarious.” His grin fades as he leans forward, eyes narrowing, voice dropping low. “But I almost wonder, why not just kill her? It’d be easy. Quick. A needle in her neck…” His glance flicks toward Lev before settling back on me. “Then carve her into pieces small enough for the pigs to feast on.”
My smile bends. “Too easy.” I tip back in the chair. “There are worse things than death, moy brat. A lot worse.”
What I don’t say—what I willneversay—is that the thought of anyone hurting her rips through me like barbed wire. I tell myself it’s because I want to be the one to break her. But the truth tastes too much like protection, and I despise myself for even entertaining it.
Kirill folds his arms across his chest, studying me with that sharklike curiosity. “Are you ever going to tell her the truth?”
My gaze drags back to the screen, to her car slipping around the corner of her block. “Maybe. But not yet.”
“What are you planning to do with her?”
“You’ll see.”
My hand curls against the desk as the feed shifts to her car door opening and her body comes into view, every curve crafted to tempt me, whether she knows it or not.
“Moya okhotnitsa thinks she’s the hunter.” My finger hovers above the screen, tracing the outline of her face. “But she will be the one who gets caught.”
Kirill’s mouth quirks. “How precious. You already gave her a pet name.”
“That’s not?—”
He lifts a palm with a scoff. “Khvatit vrat.”Stop lying.
“Edi k chortu.”Go to hell.My glare cuts harsher than the words. “Why are you even here? To test my patience?”
He shrugs. “Can’t a brother visit?”
