Page 40 of Black Ledger

I whistled and stopped, looking up at the silver moon and the clouds edging around it, as if I were edging this man.

Tempting him.

Inviting him to strike.

And when he did, I was ready. I dropped my books, slid my knife from my thigh holster, rounded on my attacker, surprising him and forcing him against the alley wall, my knife to his throat.

He let out a low chuckle and pounced, spinning me around until my back hit the limestone with a thud and the air left me in a rush.

He’d used my momentum and weight to pin me to the wall instead. But my knife never left his throat.

I glanced up at my stalker, my control slipping for a second. Shock punched me in the gut, stirring up emotions I hadn’t even realized I had.

Dark, molten-blue eyes glowered down at me. Angry? His fingers curled into the flesh at my shoulders.

Severin Volkov.

My monster in the form of a charming boy.

“So you do have a weapon.” His words were anger personified.

“Of course I do. I always have a weapon.”

His fingers dug harder into my shoulders, and if it were possible, his eyes darkened further.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

Confusion coiled around my lungs like a snake. Severin was both the one person I never wanted to see again and the one I wanted to see every fucking day of my life. Two years without him had made me hollow, but the distance was necessary.

I was a Morozov. He was a Volkov. One day, Severin would lead the mafia, and I would be one of the knights on his chessboard. I would help run the Bratva’s intelligence networks. Together, we were dangerous, and his father knew it, too.

The Volkovs might lead publicly, but the Morozovs held the secrets that could bring anyone within the Bratva to their knees, including Aleksandr. A war between our families would burn the Russian mafia to the ground. But a union between Severin and me would make him too powerful. Powerful enough to overthrow his father.

Which was precisely why Aleksandr wanted me gone. He started by carving Severin’s name into my stomach and warning me to stay away from him. But the Gauntlet offered him the best solution. If I died during the War Games, it could be written off as an unfortunate accident.

But I was like a cockroach, too resilient to kill. Although eventually, Aleksandr would succeed.

Which was why I left New York.

But I didn’t leave only for my safety. I left because I couldn’t be around Severin anymore. Not when he was fucking every girl in sight. Not when he had awakened a hunger inside me that might never be tamed.

It wasn’t that I wanted him; I didn’t. But I wanted someone to make me feel the way I did when I watched him with my teacher. I replayed that image over and over in my head. I had phantom sensations of him sliding his thumb into my mouth. And I wanted to feel it again, but no other boy had made me feel like that.

That day plagued me.

But eight hundred miles was enough to tamp down whatever hunger he had ignited, shove it deep down, and never, ever feel it again—except when another boy touched me. Then I felt it. Over and over again.

“Why are you here?” I bit down on the inside of my cheeks.

“Why are you walking alone through campus in the dark, defenseless?” His voice was liquid flame. Hot and unquenchable.

My brow furrowed. “I am not defenseless.” I motioned to my knife, still kissing the skin at his neck. “And I am a trained killer.”

“Yet you are pinned to the wall.”

“Well, yes…” I pulled the words out slowly with my tongue. “Most people aren’t you. Most people couldn’t pin me to the wall.”

Besides, I was pretty sure I was letting him do that.