Her cold composure trips a silent alarm in the back of my head. This was an execution carried out by someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Someone who has training.
I keep my gun aimed at her chest and step into the apartment, metal and wood crunching under my boot. Shedoesn’t move or say anything. Just stands there watching me, her face a careful blank mask.
“Care to explain what’s going on here?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll try that again. Tell me what the fuck is going on here?”
Her throat works as she swallows. “This isn’t about you, Kirill. I know how it looks, but I promise you it’s not.”
“No?” I move closer to her, tilting my head. “You tied up and killed a former Bratva member in my territory, and you don’t think it concerns me? That it’s any of my business?”
“He was a monster who hurt people. He deserved to die.” Her voice is calm, but her knuckles whiten around the knife handle. “Let me leave and you’ll never see me again. I promise, I’ll walk out of your life and never look back.”
Her words ignite something dark and possessive in me, the suggestion that she could just disappear from my life, like I’d ever let that happen.
“It’s cute you think there’s a chance in hell I’d let you go.” I keep my weight balanced, ready to pounce if she moves. “Who are you? Because you’re clearly more than a broke student working at Velour to pay her tuition.”
Her chin lifts, defiant, but I catch the tremor in her jaw. The first real crack in her composure. “How did you track me down here?”
“I’ll be the one asking questions and you’ll be the one answering, not the other way around.”
Her gaze darts toward the window where the fire escape’s visible through grimy glass.
“Don’t even think about it.” I keep the gun leveled at her, though we both know I’m not going to use it. “Even if you got past me, I have men stationed outside. You wouldn’t make it half a block.”
Either she doesn’t believe me or she’s desperate enough to risk it, because she lunges toward the window. I spring after her, fisting the fabric of her shirt and yanking her back before she can reach the latch. She spins, the blade swinging up in a frantic arc, but I seize her forearm, squeezing her fingers hard enough the knife hits the floor.
She drives her elbow toward my ribs and I block it, shoving her into the wall until she’s trapped between the cold plaster and my body weight.
She’s breathing hard, muscles coiled tight. Christ, she’s fucking magnificent. Way more dangerous than I ever imagined.
I pin her wrists in one hand, wrenching them over her head as I pivot her around. I shove her against the wall, my chest flush against hers. Her eyes are blazing, but there’s a deep anguish underneath. The look of a girl who knows she has nowhere left to hide.
“Whatever game you’re playing, whatever you think you can accomplish, forget it. You’ve already lost.” I lean in close, my mouth almost touching hers. “Although I do appreciate a woman who can put up a fight. Clearly, you can.” I press my hips into hers, letting her feel the thick weight of my desire. A dark reaction to the blood and the betrayal. “So tell me, solnyshko. Who are you?”
“No one important.”
I laugh bitterly. “Oh, come on. We both know that’s not true.”
Her breathing turns ragged, pulse racing as she rolls her hips against me. Arousal shoots through me, and in that split second of distraction, she strikes. Her forehead cracks against my nose and pain explodes through my skull. My grip slackens, the pistol slipping from my numb fingers as I stagger back, a hand clamped over my bloodied nose.
She dives for the gun on the floor. I lunge, tackling her to the ground, and we roll across the bloodstained floorboards ina tangle of limbs. She fights with a desperation that makes my heart roar. I pin her beneath me with the gun trapped between us.
We’re both panting, faces inches apart. Her fingers are curled around the weapon, but so are mine.
“You can play mind games all you want, but you’ll tell me the truth eventually. The question is what I have to do to get it out of you.”
She glares, furious and so fucking beautiful. She played me. Made me feel things I’ve never felt for anyone else, and none of it was real for her. The thought burns worse than any flesh wound.
I wrench the gun free and press the barrel to her temple. She goes still beneath me.
“Go ahead,” she says quietly. “It would be easier than explaining.”
The defeat in her voice makes my chest ache. Then I do something I don’t fully understand.
I seize her hand, curling her fingers around the cold steel until she’s the one holding it. Then, I guide the muzzle upward until the barrel is buried in the soft skin of my own throat.
