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As I stare at Cillian, I can’t help but wonder… What would’ve happened if I’d stayed with the Irish?

There was a time I would’ve gladly become his. Molded myself into his perfect weapon. But back then, I didn’t know what I needed. Didn’t know who I was. Back then, I just wanted someone to care… to choose me.

My heart aches.

Cillian doesn’t care about me. He never did. He just wants what he was denied.

But I’m going to play along. The more he thinks I’m his soft, compliant little puppet, the easier it’ll be to make him drop his guard.

“What’s the matter?” I ask lightly, all sweet curiosity.

He eyes me sideways, suspicious, and doesn’t answer. But I know exactly what that call was. One of his men inside the Irish ranks. Something went wrong. I just need to guess the right pressure point and twist.

“Something go sideways?” I ask casually. “Wasn’t this supposed to be seamless?”

“You don’t know fuck all about my plan.”

I shrug, feigning indifference. “I knew it had something to do with fucking over the Kopolovs. And I figure you’re trying to find a place where you can stash me without anyone finding us.”

Still nothing, but the silence is telling.

I look out the window, trying to track landmarks. I don’t know this area well, but some of it is vaguely familiar. We haven’t driven far. We’re still within Bratva reach.

That means I have time. That means I have hope.

“Give me a weapon,” I lie smoothly. “I know how to use one.”

He snorts, eyes still on the road, and doesn’t respond.

“This rope’s tight,” I add, wriggling my wrists a little. “Starting to cut circulation.”

His jaw twitches, but still—nothing. Just that brooding silence.

“If you let me?—”

“I’ll fucking gag you if you don’t shut up.”

I blink at him, all mock-hurt and wounded pride. “Cillian.” I pout. “I thought you liked me. Wanted me.”

“Watch your fucking tongue, woman.”

He pulls into a dark parking lot. Industrial. Quiet. No cameras that I can see.

“We’re staying here for now,” he says, throwing the car into park. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid. You know what I’ll do.”

I drop my eyes and lower my voice. Soften everything about myself.

Then I look up through my lashes and say in a slow, husky purr, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

His eyes flare, just for a split second.

Bingo.

If he tries to kiss me, I’ll bite him.

His hand grips the back of my neck, not possessive like Matvei, not grounding. No. It’s rough. Cold. Controlling. It doesn’t make me feel wanted. It makes me feelused.

He hauls me out of the car and shoves open a side door.