This isn’t last night—no explosion, no loss of control. This is slower. Heavier. A kiss that drags five years of resentment to the surface and turns it into hunger.
She makes a soft, involuntary sound, and her hands press to my chest before curling into my shirt like she’s trying to anchor herself.
I lift her onto the bed, her robe whispering against my hands. Her breath trembles. Her eyes burn into mine, defiant and vulnerable all at once.
But when I lower my forehead to hers, everything shifts.
The anger. The desire. The revenge. The regret.
They blur into something dangerous.
Something close enough to vulnerability that it terrifies me.
She presses her palm to my chest and pushes gently, slipping out from beneath me before the moment can tip any further. The loss of her warmth is immediate. Jarring.
“We’re not doing this again,” she whispers.
“We already did,” I say, the words rough in my throat.
She shakes her head. “Not like this. Not when you don’t understand what you took from me.”
That lands harder than any accusation.
I sit back on my heels, dragging a hand through my hair, forcing myself to breathe. For once, I don’t chase. For once, I don’t command.
“Sienna,” I say quietly, carefully. “Tell me what you want.”
She looks at me then—reallylooks at me—as if she’s weighing the cost of honesty against the damage of silence. Her expression flickers. Conflict. Pain. Control snapping back into place.
Then she turns away.
“Sleep,” she says. “We have a long road ahead.”
She disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft, final click that echoes far louder than it should.
I stay where I am, staring at the empty space she left behind.
And I know two things with absolute certainty.
She’s hiding something.
And I would burn the world down before letting anything—or anyone—take her from me again.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I grab it without looking. Lev.
I leave the suite quietly, the door clicking shut behind me, and stride toward the elevator. I punch in the code for my studio floor. The ride up is silent, steel and glass boxing in my thoughts. The doors slide open and usher me into the private space.
Only then do I take the call.
Lev doesn’t waste time.
“I’m heading to the base. I’m going to cut off that fucker’s arm and feed it to the dogs.”
I already know who he’s talking about. The unfortunate bastard who touched Sasha. I can’t even blame him.
“Do you want to come?” he asks.
