I drag a hand down my face, slow and rough, like I’m trying to wipe off the last two hours. My jaw ticks. I shift my stance, roll my neck until it cracks, but the tension stays knotted between my shoulders like it’s been nailed there.
“Wait,” Arseny says, as if something just occurred to him. “Ohhh.” He points at me, grinning like a bastard. “She’sthatgood, huh?”
Timur clears his throat, but even he doesn’t bother hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I finally turn to Arseny.
“Shut up.”
He raises both hands like he’s innocent. “Just saying. Makes sense now. The shirt. The bitemarks. The vague existential crisis radiating off your body like steam—”
“I said shut up.”
Arseny nods slowly, like he’s humoring me.
“Totally. Muted. Silenced. Gagged.” He zips his lips, throws away the imaginary key, and then immediately adds, “But seriously, boss, I’m happy for you. She seems nice. The kind of nice that makes you show up at a torture session just to remember who you are.”
I don’t look at him.
Because he’s not wrong.
The warehouse stinks, the light’s still flickering, and my fists are twitching. But none of it’s loud enough to drown out the part of me that’s still back there—with her.
The feel of her thighs clenched around my hips.
The way she moaned when I made her come.
The way she looked at me like I was more than what I am.
I inhale deeply and let it go.
Back to business.
The man in the chair is still shaking, hands useless against the zip ties, knees bouncing like he’s trying to vanish molecule by molecule. I stalk toward him again.
“Last chance,” I say. “Tell me who gave you access to that building.”
“I swear,” he babbles, “I didn’t think—someone just gave me the keys and said it was off the books—”
“Who.”
He swallows. Sweat drips off his temple.
“I didn’t know his name. Just… he had that tattoo. On his hand. The eagle. The one that—”
Timur shifts. His head snaps toward me.
My stomach goes still.
I know that tattoo.
So does everyone in this room.
That’s not a street-level mark. That’sBratva. And not just any cell. That one’s Filipp’s.
Arseny tilts his head, frowning. “You sure?”
The man nods frantically. “I swear. I didn’t ask questions. He said the property was safe, that it’d never get flagged. I thought—”
