Our mouths are too close, and his scent seeps into my pores like sweet venom—smoke, sage, and something rich. It’s my first time noticing it, and I inhale greedily, going against every fiber of my being that tells me not to.
This feels different, dangerous—not because he could hurt me, but because something in me leans toward him instead of away. As the realization courses through me, my fists clench, and I thrash with renewed fury until his hold on my wrists lessens. I push into my limbs to get up, but before he lets go of me completely, his lips move one last time.
“And just like that, you owe me again. Careful, Cecilia, or you’ll be running up quite a debt in no time.”
I scowl, curling my upper lip, before bolting out into the hallway.
16
Mikhail
I’m fresh out of convalescence, peeling off an asshole’s vocal cords with a sharp knife.
Images of my last night with Cecilia come back to me, overshadowing the sight of the flesh I’m dangling in front of a dying man. The feel of her body—warm, soft, tormented by her own mind—yanks on something inside me, demanding constant fucking attention.
So much so, I decided to join Niko on his killing spree. He wouldn’t tell me what we’re really doing at this warehouse—something about a traitor from his past, but I didn’t really care for the details. I just needed an outlet. An extracurricular to clear my mind and get back to my ways. Though I might as well have not come here at all.
It’s not working.
Why the fuck did I help her? And why did I let her helpme?
My soon-to-be wife is in my house, on mysheets, infecting my world like wildfire. First, she helps me come back from thedead, and then she runs from me like it means nothing. She bargains with me, tries to topple me all the damn time. The little bird has claws, I’ll give her that. They scratch nice and deep, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
Still, I shouldn’t have been that close to her. Shouldn’t have hovered like some fucking idiot. I let myself want, and that’s exactly why I need to get my shit together.
The man at my feet—a Russian from Magadan in his forties—gargles, unintelligible sounds coming out of his mouth. My hands are coated with warm blood that keeps on flowing, the stench stronger than that of his piss and vomit from earlier. I don’t mind it. It tells me the job is almost done.
“See, that’s exactly how I know we’re not finished. You’re still talking.” I dig my fingers into his throat, pulling out the last vocal cord like a piece of string before throwing it to the side.
“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Niko says from somewhere behind me.
“I’ve only been gone a few weeks. Not a lifetime.”
When we were kids, Pyotr—whom my father paid to train us—had me and Wolfgang beat each other’s record time while practicing this exact job. The knife had to be sharp enough, and we had to be careful not to actually kill the man. Once the cords were removed, we had to sew him so he could continue his life in agony, living with an improvised neck stoma. Of course I haven’t lost my fucking touch.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I wipe a hand on my jeans to take it out, standing from the crouched position I was in. The screen flashes an unknown number, and I pick up, placing it at my ear.
“We’re sending over someone to take care of the wedding details,” Cesare says through the speaker.
“Ah, the world’s most insipid criminal,” I mock, walking over to the tray of torture objects and picking up a rag. “The wedding is being taken care of. Anything else?”
“Did I fucking stutter, Rykov? We’re sending someone over. Don Ferrara wants Cecilia’s teacher to chime in on particulars.”
Right. The Hive retiree—Lucia Donatello.
“Such as?” I ask.
“The dress. The bridal suite. Things I’m sure you don’t really care about.”
I don’t. And Victoria doesn’t seem too eager to help organize this wedding as long as I’m forcing Cecilia to be my bride. Tough luck.
“Fine.” I sigh. “Send her over to my penthouse in Manhattan. I’ll bring Cecilia there tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Or… you could give us your real location since you already know our address. We’re allies now, are we not?”
I smile. Looks like theconsigliereisn’t too sold on this alliance either. “Allies, yes. But that doesn’t make me an idiot. I’ll text you the details. Now, is that all?”
“If I find you’ve laid a fucking finger on Cecilia?—”
