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Could he be?

A part of me knew I was reaching, that maybe I was just looking for reasons to peg him as dangerous.

But another part—the part that had been around power long enough to recognize it—thought I was right.

He wasn’t just some underground brawler, he was something else.

And if the rumors were true? If Nikolai was part of the Bratva, then I just locked eyes with someone who could end me.

Or claim me as his.

I hated that the second thought made my skin flush.

I hated that I was even thinking about him. That I was lying in my bed, fully clothed, makeup smeared, heart still pounding like I was standing ringside instead of safe in my designer sheets.

I didn’t get like this.

Not for anyone.

I didn’t chase.

I didn’tache.

But God help me, something about him stuck in my chest like a knife.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t even sure I wanted to pull that knife out yet.

CHAPTER 4

The next morning…

Sloane

The shower didn’t help.

Everything about him raced through my mind, from the sound of his fists to the way his eyes had locked onto mine like he already knew what I tasted like. I stood there with the water scalding hot, hands braced against the tile, hoping the heat would burn him out of my head.

It didn’t work.

I still felt it, every inch ofhim: the muscles, the hardness, the blood, the sweat, the way the crowd had worshipped him. The way I couldn’t look away,even for a second.

I hadn’t said a word to him, hadn’t heard his voice, hadn’t touched him—but somehow, he was still under my skin, and he was in there deep.

I toweled off in a daze, skin pink from the heat, hair dripping, and wrapped myself in a hoodie I stole from Maya’s ex-boyfriend. It still smelled like his cologne, which I only now realize I hated. Everything felt like static around me, and I couldn’t take it.

So I did what any modern girl does when she’s obsessed with a guy that she doesn’t want to admit she’s obsessed with: I Googled him.

Or at least, I tried.

Nikolai underground Boston fight

Too vague. Just brought up old articles about Southie bar brawls and a guy named Niko who runs a boxing gym in Dorchester. Not it.

I chewed my thumbnail.

Okay. Think. The crowd called him something.