But I don’t move.
Not because I’m scared.Not because he’s faster, though he is.No, something in me just…
Hesitates.
I hate to fucking admit it, but Dove’s safe with him.With all of them.The Strakhs won’t hurt her.If anything, she’ll hurt Wolfson.
That’s fine.Let her break his heart like she breaks every damn thing she touches.
But sex?
No.
That’s the line.
I can’t stomach the thought of her hands in his hair, her legs around his waist.That kind of betrayal would rupture something vital in me.
And yet…
I don’t pull the trigger.
There’s something about him.Something magnetic.Unholy.The way he moves.The way he smiles like a man who’s already tasted my secrets.I hate it.I want to destroy him for it.But deep down, an ugly, buried part of me likes it.
Not that I’ll admit that.
So I rewrite the story.Turn it into strategy.
Wolfson comes from money.Filthy, generational, mob-fueled money.His family bleeds power.I can use that.
I’ll get close and seduce him with the right words, irresistible glances, and perfect tension.Poor little emo boy won’t even know he’s being manipulated.
He’ll fall.
When I’ve taken his trust, his access, and his inheritance, I’ll take Dove, and we’ll disappear again.New city.New names.Same shadows.
That’s the long game.
And that’s when the front door bursts open, breaking our fragile standoff.
Three figures flood into the tattoo shop, all unmistakably lethal.
Monty, Leonid, and Kodiak Strakh fan out, instantly encircling me.Monty and Leonid hold sleek black pistols, their stances formidable, murderous intent radiating from their eyes.Kodiak aims a damn crossbow at me, his expression predatory.
Hunters.Savages.Murderers.
Just like me.
“Throwing a party?”Leonid’s gold and blue eyes glitter with malicious amusement.“Didn’t invite us?”
“We would’ve been here sooner if your shower routine didn’t take an hour.”Monty points a smirk at Leo’s braids.
“I have a lot of sins to wash off.”Leo waggles a brow in return.
I clench my jaw, recognizing each face from exhaustive surveillance and digging.They’re killers, ruthless and efficient, as monstrous as the rumors.This isn’t a situation I can win through force.But pride keeps me anchored.
“Your town, your rules.”Gun steady on Wolfson, I meet Monty’s eyes.“Is that it?”
Monty hardens his glare, casually aiming his gun, and damn it all, he looks good doing it.It’s the suit.Each tailored thread clings to him like sin, cut to perfection over a body that shouldn’t belong to a fifty-year-old man.
