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This wasn't about sex. None of this was about sex.

This was about power.

Control through fear and ownership.

Someone else thought they got to play their sick little games with my girl.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

Alina had been marked long before I ever laid a hand on her.

Someone was making a claim on what was mine.

And that was unacceptable.

And that made me mad enough to want to burn the entire world to the ground to stake my claim.

I hadn't spent my life clawing my way to the top just for some nameless bastard to think he could touch what was mine. Threaten what was mine.

The glass in my grip shattered. Vodka mixed with my blood dripped down my fingers, but I didn't feel it.

The only thing I could feel was the slow, calculated rage curling its way through my veins.

Kostya set his glass down with a sigh. "Looks like we're not the first dangerous people your girl has pissed off."

"No shit." Artem was still eyeing the photos like they could reach out and pull him into their depravity just by existing. "Looks like they are making her pay a debt."

"Seventy thousand," I growled.

Remembering what she told me last night about her father's gambling and abandonment.

Like the vicious bastard that I was, I'd only been interested in the information to manipulate her into doing what I wanted. Goddammit. I should have asked more questions. At the time I just assumed she was paying back a fucking casino or maybe a credit card company.

And here my sweet little kitten was being threatened by some low-life thugs. Fuck.

The fact that I was also threatening her was different.

These bastards were sadistic animals who got off on terrorizing innocent women.

At least when I used leverage, it served a purpose beyond cruelty.

Kostya shook his head. "I know what we paid her, and the strip club pay was decent considering she wasn't on the pole, and since her grandmother qualifies for assistance the nursing home cost is practically covered. But the place she lived in was a shithole. Her bills are past due, and she has no savings I can find. Unless it's going up her nose or in her veins, which I doubt… the math doesn't add up. Someone's bleeding her dry."

My vision narrowed as the full picture crystallized.

Their words barely registered.

My mind was already working, already planning the kind of pain that was both creative and absolute.

I would find every person involved in terrorizing her. And I would make them understand that touching what belonged to Pavel Ivanov came with consequences that lasted lifetimes.

I would find the bastard responsible for this, and I would carve him apart, piece by agonizing piece, until he understood what it meant to truly suffer.

Alina had secrets.

But so did I.

And mine were about to become someone's worst nightmare.