The engine purrs as I pull away fromTsarina, the leather of the steering wheel smooth and warm against my palms. My nostrils still carry the faint hint of copper from this evening’s events. The taste of victory sits sharp on my tongue, metallic and satisfying, but it does nothing to quiet the restless energy coiling through my muscles like a live wire searching for ground.
My gut clenches.
Katriana's wish presses against my heart with every damn breath I take. I can feel the edges of it through the fine wool of my jacket, a constant reminder of what I've claimed and what I'm about to demand in return.
I roll a shoulder and work out the tight kinks forcing their way under my shoulder blades.
Beside me, Luca's fingers fly across his phone screen, the blue glow casting angular shadows across his sharp features as he works through the list of tasks I've assigned. The soft tap of his thumbs against glass creates a rhythm that should be soothingin its familiarity, but tonight every sound feels amplified, every sensation heightened, like my body knows something my mind hasn't caught up to yet.
Fuck. I white knuckle the wheel. I wanted some time to plan this out better and not look like an asshole, but my gut tells me time is not on my side.
"Scratch that, brother." I wave my hand before Luca can finish typing, the movement sharp enough to make him pause. "Don't bother Kon."
Luca's fingers freeze mid-keystroke. He looks up at me with raised eyebrows, the blue light from his phone painting his face in shades of curiosity and concern. The silence between us stretches thin, filled only by the hum of the engine and the distant wail of a siren somewhere in the city's depths.
“Care to explain? Kon and I were really getting into some good details. I was –”
"Victor is a nasty motherfucker," I cut him off. The words come out rough, scraping against my throat like I've swallowed gravel. My jaw aches from clenching it too tight during the confrontation at Tsarina, and I force myself to relax the muscles, rolling my neck until something pops with a satisfying crack. "I can't leave her out there exposed. Not after what just happened with Victor. We know him. He’s most likely already on the move or it won’t be long before he is."
He takes his eyes off his screen to look at me. “Got it. Kon is gonna be disappointed. He’s hated Victor for a while now. Wish I could see his face when I tell him. He’s had a forever home for the bastard’s body planned out for a couple of years now. Kinda creepy actually. I hate to steal his chance to finally fill that hole.”
“Good to know. I have a feeling it won’t be long, but not yet. Trust me on this.”
“Lemme break the bad news.”
Luca turns back to his phone.
The streetlights blur past the windows in ribbons of amber and white, painting patterns across the dashboard that shift and dance like flames in a dying fire. I think about the look on Victor's face when he took my money, the way his papery fingers trembled as they brushed against the stacks of bills. The humiliation burning behind those pale, unblinking eyes. The promise of retribution coiled in the set of his thin shoulders as I turned and walked away.
Men like Victor Kedrov don't swallow their pride quietly. They choke on it, letting it fester in their throats like poison, and then they find ways to make someone else pay for the bitter taste. He’ll start with taking his anger out on the guards who failed him. They’re already dead by now. That will quench some of his thirst but he won’t be truly happy until he has Katriana. And since he knows I want her, it will be his sole mission.
The image of Katriana's apartment flashes through my mind, conjured from Luca's surveillance photos and my own imagination. Water-stained ceilings that speak of neglect and landlords who take rent but give nothing in return. Drafty windows that rattle in their frames when the wind picks up. Doors secured by locks that wouldn't keep out a determined child, let alone a monster with a grudge and an army of men who hurt people for a living.
She's alone in that place right now. Probably lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, her glasses set carefully onthe nightstand, her body exhausted from carrying a weight no one should have to bear alone. Does she sleep deeply, too tired to dream? Or does she lie awake in the darkness, listening for footsteps in the hallway, her heart seizing every time the building settles and groans?
The thought makes something twist beneath my ribs, sharp and uncomfortable, like a blade working its way between bones that have grown too close together.
I can't leave her there. I won't. The second she sees me she’ll think of my brother and toss me in the same asshole category she’s undoubtedly placed him in. I take my foot off the accelerator. I could sit outside and take my time with this. Come up with a better idea than just storming in and telling her she has a new owner.
Fuck, that does make me sound like the asshole I don’t want her to see me as.
“I can see your thoughts are still warring. Are we doing this with Kon or not?”
“Fuck you, Luca.” I grunt without the heat behind the words. Fucker is good at reading others. Too good.
“I can’t leave her unprotected.” I punch the gas and we fly down the road toward either the biggest mistake of my life or the best decision I've ever made.
The car responds to my touch like an extension of my own body, smooth and powerful, eating up the distance between Tsarina and the part of the city where hope goes to die.
Luca watches me change direction without comment, but I can feel the weight of his attention pressing against the side of myface like a physical touch. The leather of his seat creaks as he shifts his weight, angling his body toward me in that way he has when he's preparing to say something I won't want to hear.
"Hey. I’m down for anything you wanna do. You know that. Kon and everyone else is too. But you need to think about what you're about to do." His voice is carefully neutral, the tone of a man offering counsel he knows will be ignored but feels obligated to provide regardless. The words hang in the air between us, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne and the lingering traces of cigar smoke that cling to both our clothes from the confrontation at Tsarina.
"I know what I'm doing.”
"Do you?" He sets his phone down on his thigh and turns his attention on me fully, his dark eyes sharp with something that might be concern or might be calculation. With Luca, the line between the two has always been blurry, shifting like shadows in candlelight. "I have to warn you, you're about to ride in like some knight in shining armor and tell a woman you barely know that you own her now. You really think that's going to go well?"
He voices the concern I’ve fought with all night.
