A small, satisfied tilt of her head.
“As long as it made me happy.”
“Violet,” Renzo interrupted gently, his voice cutting through the tension, “let’s proceed to the laboratory. We’re running out of time.”
But she ignored him.
Completely.
Her attention remained fixed on me, as though I were the only thing in her world that mattered in that moment.
“If you somehow survive having your heart ripped out today,” she said, voice sharp and deliberate,
“I will contact Ruslan Baranov myself... and give him your exact location.”
The name hit like a gunshot.
My breath faltered.
Her eyes sharpened as she watched the reaction.
“He’ll come for you.”
“He’ll drag you out of Vincenzo’s territory if he has to burn it down to do it.”
The threat was intentional.
Deadly.
Ruslan Baranov.
The name alone was enough to summon memories I’d buried deep—nights spent running, hiding, surviving.
A past that never really let me go.
A man who didn’t forgive.
A man who never stopped hunting.
If Violet gave Ruslan Baranov coordinates...
He wouldn’t hesitate. Wouldn’t question.
Wouldn’t care who stood in his way.
He would bring war.
Straight to Vincenzo’s doorstep.
Just to reach me.
My stomach churned.
But I forced myself to breathe.
Forced myself to steady my voice.
“I’ve had enough of your threats... and your boasting,”
