His hand finds my hair, wrapping in the strands and pulling just enough to arch my back, changing the angle so he hits that spot deep inside that makes me see God.
He buries himself hilt deep over and over again. The sound of skin slapping skin, our gasps and groans, fills the room. My body is on fire, nerve endings alight, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
He slaps my ass hard enough to sting. “Come for me, Isabelle. Again.”
The command, combined with the stinging pain, sends me over. I come with a scream that’s part pleasure, part agony, my body convulsing around him as he drives into me, harder, deeper, until with a guttural groan, he finds his own release, pouring into me, his body trembling against mine.
I collapse onto the bed, sweaty and satisfied. But Sergei’s not done with me. He turns me around so that my back is against his chest. His hand is between my thighs, his fingers entering my pussy, which is still wet with our mixed releases. His other hand plays with my clit, rubbing circles, sending me climbing toward another peak, but this time it feels different, sharper, more intense. My toes curl, and I’m arching back against him, moaning his name. I come for a third time, my body shaking uncontrollably, my breathing ragged.
I collapse against him, my body limp and boneless. For a long time, the only sound is our ragged breathing, the hammering of my heart against my ribs.
Dad’s lighter sits on the nightstand where I left it. The gold catches ambient light from the window—streetlamps and rain creating patterns on metal. Unlit, but gleaming.
Sergei’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my spine. “You still thinking about the nightmare?”
“No.” I press my lips to the scar bisecting his ribs—white line against olive skin, knife fight from fifteen years ago. “I’m thinking about Matthew and my mother and everything we’re going to burn down.”
His hand stills on my back. “You sound eager.”
“I am.” I lift my head, meeting those grey eyes. “They killed my father. They’ve been stealing from his legacy for years. They tried to force me into marrying that pig Cal Reznick. They sent men to kill me today.” My voice hardens. “Yeah, I’m eager. I want to watch them lose everything.”
Something like satisfaction crosses his face. “My Wolf.”
The nickname makes warmth bloom in my chest. Notkotyonok—little kitten, affectionate and gentle. But Wolf. Equal. Dangerous.
Partner.
“I want them to know it was me.” The words surprise me with their venom. “When it all comes crashing down, I want them to see my face. To understand that I’m not the stupid girl they thought they could control.”
“They’ll know.” His hand slides into my hair, grip firm. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Outside, thunder rumbles—distant now, the storm moving on. But inside, in this fortress Sergei built, I feel the storm just beginning. The one we’re going to unleash on everyone who thought I was weak.
Who thought I was prey.
I reach for the lighter, thumb working the mechanism.
Click snap]
Click snap.
The familiar rhythm grounds me, connects me to Dad, even though he’s gone.
“He’d be proud of you,” Sergei says quietly. “Your father. What you’ve become. What you’re about to do.”
“You think?” My voice catches.
“I know.” He pulls me closer, until I’m tucked against his side, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. “He built an empire and protected it fiercely. You’re doing the same, just with sharper teeth.”
I flip the lighter open one more time. The flame catches, small and defiant against the darkness. Dad’s fire, alive in my hands.
I’m coming for them, Dad. For everyone who took you from me. And I’m going to win.
The flame dances, casting shadows across Sergei’s face—all sharp angles and dangerous beauty. He watches it with me, understanding what it means. What it represents.
Legacy. Vengeance. Survival.
Power.
