“And then nothing.” He shrugs. “We talked.”
“You interrogated. About?”
“About what she wants.” His eyes lock on mine, searching. “What she plans to do now that she belongs to you.”
The word ‘belongs’ slides under my skin like a barb. It’s what I wanted. What I demanded. What I told her when I pinned her against that wall.
But hearing it from Vaska makes it feel different. Like it’s not just between us anymore.
“What did she say?” I ask, voice lower now.
Vaska’s smile fades. “Nothing useful. That woman of yours deflects well.” He sets the knife down on the table between us, a deliberate gesture. “But she’s hiding something.”
“Everyone’s hiding something.”
“Not like this.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You know I ran her background. Orphan. Three jobs. Petty theft record from when she was a teenager.” He pauses. “It’s clean.Tooclean.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that it feels constructed.” His voice drops. “Like someone built it.”
The implication hangs in the air between us. My jaw tightens.
“You think she’s working for someone?”
It’s not a question. It’s the fear that’s been gnawing at the back of my skull since I first saw her. Since I first wanted her.
Vaska doesn’t answer right away. He’s watching me too carefully.
“I think,” he says slowly, “that you’re in too deep with her too fast. And I think that makes you vulnerable.”
I move before I can stop myself, crossing the room in three strides. My hand slams down on the arm of his chair, face inches from his.
“I’m not vulnerable,” I growl.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just looks at me with the same calm stare he’s had since we were kids.
“You are,” he says quietly. “And that makes her dangerous.”
For a second, neither of us speaks. The only sound is our breathing and the distant hum of the security system.
“If she’s playing you,” Vaska continues, voice still low, “you said you’d handle it.” He hesitates. “If she isn’t, then we need to protect her, bring her in.”
I straighten slowly, taking a step back. The anger is still there, simmering under my skin, but it’s directed somewhere else now. Not at him. Not at her.
At the possibility of bringing her in. Moving her into the compound. Part of the Bratva.
A title.
“What did you see when you were with her?” I ask, forcing the words out.
Vaska tilts his head, considering. “Someone who knows how to survive. Someone who’s been watching and learning every second she’s been with us.” His eyes meet mine again. “She quiet Maks, but she studies.”
“Keep watching her,” I say finally. “Butdon’ttouch her again.”
My phone rings. Pietro. I swipe it to answer.
“What?”
