I thrust against her. Steady rhythm. Relentless pressure. Her clit drags against the fabric of my pants with every movement, and I can feel her wetness soaking through.
"Zakhar," she breathes.
"Come," I say again. "Now."
Her head falls back against the monitors. Her mouth opens on a silent cry. And then she's shaking again, coming hard, exactly like I told her to.
The feeling of her losing control. The knowledge that I did this to her. The sight of her face when she shatters—
It's too much.
I come in my pants like a teenager. The orgasm rips through me with unexpected violence, and I bury my face in her neck to muffle the sound I can't quite contain.
We're both gasping for air. Both trembling. Both holding onto each other like we're drowning and the other person is the only thing keeping us afloat.
I lower her feet back to the ground, but I don't step away. Can't step away. We breathe the same air in the blue glow of the monitors.
"Don't disobey me again," I whisper against her ear.
She's quiet for a moment. Then I feel her smile against my neck.
"Make me," she says, voice soft but defiant.
The words hang in the space between us, both challenge and promise.
I should step back. Should put distance between us before this goes even further than it already has.
I don't move.
19
VICTORIA
I lie in the dark of my bedroom, staring at the ceiling, and wonder how my life became this complicated.
The sheets are tangled around my legs. The air conditioning hums. Every sound in this silent house feels amplified, pressing against my skin like an accusation.
I should be sleeping. It's past midnight, and tomorrow will bring another round of decisions I'm not sure I'm equipped to make.
But sleep won't come. Not with everything spinning through my head like shards of broken glass.
The day started with Jelena. With finding out that she sent Era into the Krasniqi household without consulting me. Without consulting anyone. A unilateral decision that put one of our most vulnerable women directly back into the orbit of violence.
I was furious about it. Still am.
But I also can't entirely dismiss Jelena's accusation. That I've been absent. Distracted. Not as involved as I should be in the operations that depend on my leadership.
She's right. I hate that she's right.
The furies need funding. The safe houses are expensive. The forged documents, the transportation networks, the bribes and payoffs that keep our work invisible. All of it costs money we're burning through faster than I can replenish.
We need to do another operation soon.
But how? With Zakhar watching my every move. With security doubled and my freedom stripped away in the name of protection.
I could tell them. Could trust the Severyns with the truth about Eryan Nis.
The thought surfaces every few hours now, persistent and dangerous. They're not the men I assumed they were when this arrangement started. There's depth beneath the violence. Loyalty beneath the dominance. Honor governing their choices, even when those choices are brutal.
