But I know the truth. I felt it. She’s powerless against me. Just the way I like it.
It’s in the way her body opened for mine. The way her breath caught when I kissed the skin she tried to hide. The way she whimpered when I wrapped that collar around her throat, and the way she loved every second of it.
My perfect, self-righteous prosecutor.
I gave her the fantasies she won’t ever admit she has. And now she’s running. Again.
I drag a hand through my hair, jaw tight as I button my shirt.
Let her run. Let her cling to whatever illusion of choice she thinks she has left. It won’t matter.
Because I own her now. Body. Mind. Soul.
And anyone who tries to get in the way of that? Will bleed for it.
Speaking of bleeding…
I have unfinished business, by the name of Wesley Dawson. Exiting the room, I head down the hall, opening the door to a secure stairwell. Our men greet me with a nod, knowing exactly where I’m headed.
To the room no one ever comes out of.
My boots echo down the metal steps, each one a countdown to a reckoning that should’ve happened the second that svolich laid eyes on Fiona.
I should’ve ended him at the vineyard. Should’ve dragged him behind the barrels and slit his goddamn throat the moment he smiled at her.
But I waited. Watched. Wanted to know who he was before I killed him.
Because I would never have allowed him to invest in the vineyard. That was not an option he had.
Then he did something worse. He hurt her. And now he’s going to bleed for it.
I didn’t know he was a member of Rzvrt. We have too many to keep track of.
But I followed her on the cameras the second he picked her up. And to my surprise, they were coming right to me.
I waited to see if she would let him touch her and how much I’d be able to watch before I killed him just for breathing the same air as her.
And now? He’s stripped to the waist, wrists chained above his head, swaying like carcass meat in the middle of the basement. My men got started without me.
Good. Saves me time.
Wesley’s eyes widen the second I step inside. That flicker of fear brings me satisfaction. His ribs are already mottled withbruises, a cut splits his lip, and a thin stream of blood snakes down his thigh where somebody got creative.
“Having too much fun without me?” My laugh bounces off the concrete as I head for the weapons my men laid out for me on the small table in the corner of the room, picking up the brass knuckles I enjoy using.
“Da.” My cousin Dimitri smirks as he wipes his hands on a towel. “On khotel dat’ kazhdomu iz nas po millionu, chtoby my ego otpustili.”He wanted to give each of us a million to let him go.
The rest of the men chuckle, stepping aside to make space for me.
“Is that true, Wesley?” I slap him forcefully, just to see his head snap back. “Were you going to bribe my men to betray me?”
He lifts his head and groans, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth when he tries to speak.
I don’t give him the chance. The knuckles drive into his gut once, twice, hard enough to make his whole body jerk like a puppet on a string, his groans loud and beautiful.
“Tell me who sent you.”
But I already know. I’m just waiting to see how long it takes him to crack.
