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“Is that better?” He slides the stick back in deeper until I’m pinned between it and the bar, so full I can barely breathe. His free hand slides under my body, fingers curling around my clit—rough. Ruthless.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs. “My lying, running, fucking little bratty girl.” The combination of the crude pressure of the wood, the brutal circles over my clit, and the weight of his body pinning me in place—it’s too much. I explode around the stick, screaming loud enough to rip my throat raw, my body convulsing. He fucks me through it, working me like I’m his personal plaything until I’m slapping at him, begging him to stop and never stop, all in the same breath. I don’t know what I want. It’s too much. It’s perfection. And then my legs give out, and I’m nothing but a limp, ruined mess on the bar.

He pulls the stick out, dripping and slick, and tosses it to the floor with a crash. His fingers tangle in my hair, dragging my face up to meet his. Holding my gaze, he licks his fingers, savoring my taste. “We’re not done here yet,” he says, wicked promise in his eyes as he yanks the belt off my wrists. “That was your first lesson.”

I’m still shaking, my body boneless and fucked out, when my survival instincts kick in and my brain catches up.

Shit.

Run.

I slide one trembling leg off the bar, then the other, my fingers fumbling for balance. My thighs are soaked, my pussy ruined, my skin hot and raw.Fuck.

But I only need to run.

I lean across the bar, grab a bottle, and, in one quick motion, smash it. Liquid pools over my hands, but I quickly swivel the broken glass in my grip and swipe across his arm. Blood instantly wells at the site.

“What the fuck?” he growls, but it’s all I need. I slip again, and I run. I run as fast as I can. I’m smaller, faster than him, and there’s no way he’ll get through that tiny bathroom window.

I dive into the bathroom just as I feel him at my heels and slam the door in his face. I press the flimsy lock, knowing it’s not enough to keep him out for long. I only have seconds. I leap onto the sink, heave myself up, standing on the porcelain edge, and reach for the window above. There it is—myfreedom.

I go to hoist myself through the window, but it’s locked. I hit it with my elbow. Glass shatters, and I push myself through just as I hear him breaking the door below. He’s gotten in. He tries to chase me, his fingers snatching at my ankle. They clamp down just as I kick him hard. I scream and twist, and I manage to shake him off me just as I drag myself through the tiny window and out into the street. I barrel-roll, ignoring the pain as glass bites into my side.

“Going somewhere?”

This guy in front of me is young, cocky. We’re in the dark alley behind the bar, alone. I’m on my feet, panting like a victim—like a fighter about to jump into the ring—when the guy reaches for me. He wraps his hands around my wrist and drags me closer.

“You’re not getting away,” he sneers. I look for an escape, but there’s none. I dive to the side, but his grip holds me back.

A gunshot.

No hesitation.

I scream as the man drops to his knees, blood gushing from an open shoulder wound. Matvei stalks forward slowly, his vicious gaze narrowed on the man in front of him. Measured. His knife is already in his hand. I back up until my spine hits the wall, and my skull smacks concrete.

Déjà vu.

We’re back where we started.

“I fucking told you not to touch her.” His voice is calm. Flat. Terrifying. The kind of voice that speaks truth, not threats. “I told you to fucking watch the exit andnot to touch her.”

“Please! Please, sir, I didn’t mean?—”

Boom.

The gunshot shatters the silence, followed by the wet crunch of bone and flesh. Howls of pain and pleas for mercy fill the small alley. No one comes as Matvei advances.

“I told younot to fucking touch her.”

Boom.

The pleading dissolves into whimpers and gurgling. Blood pools beneath the man’s trembling body as he frantically tries to stop the inevitable.

Oh god. I should be horrified. But all I can do is stand there, my breath shallow, andwatch.I should be trying to find a way to escape instead of staring, with my jaw unhinged, as Matvei Kopolov punishes the man whotouched me.

Because I’mnotscared. I’m fucking mesmerized. His brutality doesn’t disgust me. It doesn’t terrify me.

Itownsme.