“You’re both.”
I hate that he’s right. Hate the way my pulse hammers where his thumbs press against my wrists.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
His eyes search mine. “Because you’re hiding something.”
My stomach drops. “I’m not—”
“You are.” He releases one wrist, brings his hand up to cup my jaw. The touch is gentle.Too gentle.“And when I find out what it is, I’ll gut you.”
I jerk back, but he follows the movement, backing me against the counter. My hip hits the edge. Trapped again.
“You can’t just—”
“I can.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “I can do whatever I want, Beda. That’s how this works.”
“Not with me.”
Something flickers in his expression. Amusement? Frustration? I can’t tell.
“Especiallywith you. You walked into my territory and unfortunately for you, I noticed.”
Then he steps back. Just like that. The air rushes in where his body was, cold and unwelcome.
He picks up his plate, carries it to the sink. Rinses it like this is normal. Like he didn’t just corner me in my own kitchen.
“Get dressed,” he says without turning around. “We leave in twenty minutes.”
Chapter 11
Maksim
The diner booth is surprisingly cozy for a shithole like this.
Vinyl cracked and repaired with duct tape, table scarred with old burns and knife marks. Smells like grease that never quite leaves your clothes. I stretch one arm across the back of the booth. I could make this block my new territory.
Ayla stopped glaring at me an hour into her shift.
Thought I was fucking around when I said I was spending the day with her. I wasn’t. If I say something, I mean it. I have plans for her tonight. She moves between tables with a rhythm I can’t stop tracking. Like she learned early that wasted movement costs you.
Her clothes piss me off.
Threadbare shirts. Jeans too thin, worn at the knees. Boots that should’ve been replaced months ago. She walks around like that with seventeen grand in her backpack.
Doesn’t track.
Like the world keeps taking and no one bothered to give anything back.
She’d look better in leather.
Black jacket. Heavy. Protective. Something that says she isn’t easy to corner. Something that makes people think twice before touching.
I pull my phone from my pocket and unlock it without looking away from her.
She’s small.
Too small for how much space she takes up in my head.
