Page 27

I shift uncomfortably, remembering exactly what happens when Erik lets go. The raw hunger in his eyes. The way he marked me, claimed me, set every nerve ending on fire until I couldn't think straight.

“It's like he becomes a different person,” I murmur.

“Not different. Just... unleashed.” Sofia sips her coffee. “The beast was always there, lurking under that controlled exterior. You just happened to find the key to his cage.”

I set my mug down with a sharp click. “Is that why you're here? Did Erik send you to talk some sense into me?”

Sofia's laugh catches me off guard. “Erik? He'd rather cut off his own hand than admit he needs help managing a situation.” She shakes her head. “No, actually, it was Alexi who came to me.”

“Alexi?” The hacker brother. The wild card.

“We have an understanding.” Sofia's lips curve. “He's brilliant, but he sees things others miss. He was concerned about what's developing between you and Erik.”

“There's nothing?—”

“Please.” She cuts me off with a wave. “Let's not insult each other's intelligence. Alexi thought I might have some useful insight, given my experience with the Ivanovs.”

I cross my arms. “And what insight would that be?”

“That pushing Erik's buttons might get you the reaction you want, but it could have consequences you haven't considered.” She meets my eyes. “Erik isn't like his brothers. When he breaks, he doesn't just crack—he shatters. And anyone too close when that happens...” She lets the implication hang.

“I can handle myself.”

“I'm sure you can. But this isn't about handling yourself. It's about understanding what you're playing with.” Sofia's voice softens. “Erik's control isn't just for show. It's a wall he built brick by brick, and if you keep chipping away at it, you might not like what comes pouring out.”

I stare into my coffee, Sofia's words echoing in my mind. She's right—I've been playing with fire, deliberately provoking Erik just to see that mask slip. That first time in the gym, when he bent me over his knee... I hadn't expected the rush of heat that flooded me at each stinging strike of his hand.

My thighs press together at the memory and how much I crave the way his control splinters, revealing the darkness underneath. When his fingers wrapped around my throat,squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges—I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

What does it say about me that I want more? Each time he unleashes that carefully contained violence, I only push harder, desperate to see how far he'll go. The bruises on my hips barely faded before I was taunting him again, drawing out that beast that lurks behind his eyes.

My fingers trace the fading marks on my neck. No one's ever made me feel like this—so alive, so desperate, so completely owned. It terrifies me how much I want him to break me apart and put me back together the way he wants.

Sofia watches me with knowing eyes, and I wonder if she sees the truth written all over my face. How can I explain that the more sadistic Erik becomes, the more I crave him?

Every time his hands turn cruel, every time his voice drops into that dangerous register that promises pain and pleasure in equal measure—I'm lost. And the scariest part? I don't want to be found.

12

ERIK

The kitchen's overhead lights cast harsh shadows across Katarina's face as she pushes food around her plate. My boots scuff against the tile, announcing my presence. Her shoulders tense, but she doesn't look up.

The distance between us stretches like a physical thing. Gone is the teasing smile, replaced by a rigid posture and downcast eyes. My chest tightens at the sight.

“May I sit?”

Her fork pauses mid-bite. “It's not my table.” Her voice carries none of its usual fire.

I pull out the chair across from her, metal legs scraping against the tile. “I know things have been...” The words stick in my throat. Complicated? Intense? Nothing seems adequate.

“You don't need to explain.” She finally meets my gaze, green eyes hollow. “I'm just a prisoner who you fuck when the mood strikes. Message received.”

Her bluntness hits like a punch to the gut. Is that truly how she sees this? How I made her feel?

“That's not—” I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I don't view you that way.”

“Really?” Her laugh holds no humor. “Could have fooled me with how quickly you disappear afterward. At least own what this is.”