My men are posted at the door, silent and motionless. I sit in the chair across from her, coffee in hand, already dressed. From her point of view, I’ve probably been here for hours.
She spots me, and her shoulders tighten, but she doesn’t look away.
“Morning,” I say.
Her voice is low, rough with sleep. “You always watch people wake up?”
“Only you.”
“Creepy.”
Her brows pull together, then smooth out as she lets out a slow breath. She doesn’t ask what that means. She knows.
She pushes the blanket off and stands. Her bare feet touch the floor cautiously, like she half expects it to give way. She glances at the window, the door, my men, then me. She’s measuring everything. She’s trying to understand the situation, the threat, the limits.
I find myself admiring it more than I should.
Most people in her position cry, beg, or break. She does none of those things. She’s cautious, yes, but her mind neverstops working. I can see it in the way her gaze lingers on small details—my watch, my posture, the way my men respond when I shift in my chair. She’s not just scared. She’s studying.
“Bathroom?” she asks.
I gesture. “Second door on the left. I’m not going to stop you.”
She nods slowly, like she doesn’t quite trust that, then walks past me. Her chin is slightly lifted. There’s dignity in her even now, wrapped around her like a thin, stubborn layer of armor.
My eyes follow her until she disappears down the hall.
Viktor steps closer to my side. He keeps his voice low. “The crew on East 19th reported more movement. Cortez’s men.”
“How close?” I ask, still watching the empty doorway.
“Close enough they saw our car outside the girl’s building last night.”
I set my cup down.
“And?”
Viktor hesitates. That alone pisses me off. “One of the younger ones got mouthy. Joked about you ‘snatching a girl’ and going soft.”
The temperature in the room drops.
I stare at him until he looks away.
“What happened to him?” I ask.
“Lukyan broke his nose,” Viktor says. “Told him to shut up and learn when to keep his ideas to himself.”
For a moment, the rage sits cold and sharp, burning in my chest with a clarity I don’t like. The idea of anyone outsidethis room discussing her, commenting on her fear, mocking her vulnerability—
Unacceptable.
I stand.
“Double the rotation outside,” I say. “No one mentions her. If I hear another joke, I’ll carve out their tongue.”
Viktor nods, not surprised, but more cautious than usual. My men exchange brief glances, sensing the shift, but they’re smart enough to look away quickly. They follow orders. They don’t question why the security net doesn’t just tighten around the Bratva, but around one girl.
The truth is simple.
