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I crushed my lips against hers, licking the seam, commanding entry.

Her mouth parted, tongue meeting mine with hesitant curiosity.

My little kitten—timid, shy, so easily startled.

Her responses betrayed her.

Maybe she could serve another purpose, one that wouldn't end with her death.

Such a waste to destroy someone so valuable when she could still be useful.

I wanted Alina. Why waste an opportunity?

Artem and Gregor would raise hell, of course.

They had made the rules clear: staff were untouchable.

But they would also demand her death as a witness to murder.

Their solution would be simple. Eliminate the liability.

A problem for another time.

My solution was far more creative—and satisfying.

Rules were made by men who feared consequences. I did not.

Now, this woman trembled against me, prepared to do anything for survival, and those plump lips promised other talents worth exploring.

Breaking the kiss, I pressed the gun against the top of her shoulder, forcing her down to her knees.

The thin industrial carpet offered little cushion against the hard floor beneath.

She winced at the impact.

"You want to live, little one?"

She nodded, lips tightly pressed together.

"Not good enough. I asked you a question." I needed to hear her voice, to establish the pattern of obedience now.

"Yes," she whispered, the word barely audible.

"Yes, what?" I prompted, tapping the gun lightly against her collarbone.

She swallowed hard. "Yes, I want to live."

"Then let's see how prettily you can beg."

Her breath caught, panic rippling through her slender frame.

She shook her head, a plea forming. "Please…please, don't do this."

"Do what, little one?”

Her mascara had run, forming dingy gray circles under her lashes, which only highlighted the golden flecks in the rich warmth of her brown eyes. Those pink lips quivered, begging to be claimed. “I…I…don’t…”

My expression remained deliberately closed off.