The room narrows to a black tunnel, and reality splits apart as euphoria smashes through me.
I register the unmistakable rip of his own release as he goes under with me. The world is muffled and distant, like an underwater signal that’s barely reaching me through the haze.
For a long second, I slip the leash entirely.
Gone. No thoughts. Just aftermath. Just floating.
Then I slam back into myself, my lungs scraping for air, every nerve buzzing. His solid arm across my waist is the only thing keeping me tethered to this planet.
Nothing else in my life compares to this.
I’ve never given in so completely, never been dismantled and remade in one blow. For the first time, someone knows me so fully, it’s nearly violent.
I’ve given him a weapon, a lever he can pull under my skin. My name in his mouth is a code that unlocks doors I never realized existed.
I should flee in terror.
Instead, I twist toward him, hungry for more, craving this magnetic connection. Even if he undoes me.
Chapter 23
Kirill
Motionless, I watch Jordan sleep beside me. Her body, which radiates with steady heat, fits into the curve of my arm.
Sunlight slips down outside the window, dragging gold across the walls, making this hotel room appear almost royal.
This should feel like victory. Mission progression.
Instead, my head spins out, rewinding and picking at the last several hours. I can’t ignore the fact that I don’t know what to do with her.
Her soft breath ghosts across my chest. Her hair trails over the pillow. She’s spent. I did that, and remembering how I broke her down shoots an electric jolt through my body.
If this were just about sex, the situation would be simple, but she’s tangled me up in knots, and now I can’t get loose. Nor can I stop thinking about the way she lied to that detective for me. Or the glint in her eyes when she said I was what she’d wished for. The utter truth of her body beneath mine.
My name on her lips. Her reaction when I saidhername.
As if no one has ever said it before.
I aim my blank-eyed stare at the ceiling while running the numbers. Nothing about this job, which once seemed so clear—gather evidence for Roman and adhere to my own personal code by neutralizing the mark—lines up anymore.
I haven’t completed either objective, and Roman doesn’t tolerate excuses. Not from anyone, and especially not from me.
I cringe. I might as well be Kolya at this point.
Worse, even.
At least when he got hooked on that teacher, he didn’t blow up an entire operation.
I’ve seen Roman’s reaction when one of his own goes soft. The disgust and disappointment on his features before he writes them off like they’re not even worth the trouble of disposal.
I’ve never failed him before. Not once.
Jordan appears smaller when she’s asleep, revealing no hint of the force that could topple an empire. But according to Roman, she’s the key. She has intel. She’s tied to whatever’s in her father’s safe, to 237, and what happened on that island fifteen years ago. She must be.
But what if she’s not? What if she’s honestly in the dark?
My stomach clenches. I’ve stripped her life bare, torn everything open, and uncovered nothing. “Safety-237” and “Insurance” could really mean anything. Perhaps those clues refer to a storage box, system file, locker, or the string of numbers on a door. Unfortunately, I’m running out of options and time to figure this out. And that’s the truth that really sticks.
