That’s all I needed to hear… his dirty words to set me off. I shattered hard. My pussy pulsed around him in tight, greedy pulls, screaming his name as the orgasm ripped through me.
He followed right after, slamming deep one last time, cock throbbing as he came again. I felt his release flood inside of me, spilling out around his dick as he kept thrusting through it, drawing out every shudder.
When the aftershocks finally faded, Dmitry didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside me, arms banded around my body like steel, face buried in my neck, breathing me in as his chest heaved.
We stayed like that, all sweat-slick skin, hearts pounding, and tangled together until my breathing slowed and the world crept back in.
He lifted his head, eyes dark and intense, thumb brushing a tear from my cheek. “Tonight is the start of everything,” he breathed, voice rough with something deeper than lust.
“I know. I’m ready,” I whispered.
The clock on the nightstand ticked closer to when the sun would set and we’d have to start the end of this.
Whatever waited in the dark, we were walking into it together.
Chapter 18
Dmitry
Andrey chose the place because he thought it gave him control. Same with the hour. Because men like Andrey believed darkness and isolation equaled safety.
The derelict industrial yard sat along the river’s edge, half swallowed by shadows and neglect, and rusted rail lines cut through cracked concrete. Warehouses leaned inward like rotting teeth. There was no foot traffic in this part of the city.
And that meant no one who would hear gunfire and care enough to call it in.
I’d arrived earlier than he wanted me there. Not because I was eager, but because I never walked into anything blind. I’d taken the time to map the exits, counted sightlines, and noted the blind corners and the places a man could disappear if panicked.
Andrey had picked this location because it made him feel safe. He knew the layout, access points, and the way sound carried along the river and died before it reached the road.
He thought familiarity gave him the advantage, but familiarity bred confidence. And confidence got men killed.
Zoya stayed in the car when I pulled in, exactly where I wanted her. Engine running. Headlights off. Windows dark.
I had her sit in the driver’s seat in case she needed to get the fuck out of here. She sat low in the seat with the compact Glock I’d pressed into her hands minutes earlier, fingers steady around the grip the way I’d shown her: thumbs forward, wrists locked, safety discipline drilled into her in the shortest, harshest lesson of my life.
She wasn’t there to fight, but I wouldn’t let her be unprepared.
I made my way to the meeting place, adrenaline rushing harshly at the thought of leaving her. But it was a necessary evil.
Andrey waited near the center of the yard, just where I knew he would… far enough from cover to look confident, close enough to his exits to run. He was a coward down to the marrow.
He’d brought several men. Not his usual crew but hired muscle with visible sidearms. They were the kind of mercenaries who thought looking dangerous made them dangerous.
But I noticed right away they fanned poorly by overlapping sightlines and displayed no discipline. Placeholders. Exactly what I’d expected.
His gaze sharpened as he looked around before he snapped his focus back to me. “Where is she?” he demanded, the tightness in his voice betraying him.
I didn’t answer.
His eyes flicked around again, sharper now as he searched frantically, his anger growing by the second. When he didn’t see her, irritation cracked his composure.
“You were supposed to bring her,” he said, stepping forward. “This ends tonight.”
“It does,” I said calmly. “Just not the way you planned.”
Andrey’s mouth twitched, the faintest crack in his mask. He glanced at the yard, at his men, then back at me like he was recalculating in real time. “You always did like theatrics,” he said. “Dragging this out. You could have ended it already.”
“I did,” I replied.
