Page 25 of Blood, Bones, and the Bratva Bogeyman

Boss.

I love how that sounds.

“Good,” I whisper, still staring at the vial. “Send it out. Let them taste the power they can have if they kneel at my feet.”

I place the vial back into its case, snap it shut, and smile.

There’s blood on my hands, but it’s the cleanest I’ve ever felt.

Let Konstantin come for me. Let him bring his fury and his righteous little vendetta.

I want him to.

Because by the time he finds me . . .

I’ll already have her.

eleven

Cressida

Thegatecreakslikesomething dying as I push it open.

Rust clings to my fingers, and the scent of wet stone and night-blooming jasmine filters through the air. Moonlight spills over the cemetery in shards of silver, catching on the moss-covered angels and leaning crosses as if they’re whispering secrets through the trees.

“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “This is either the most romantic or most batshit date I’ve ever been on.”

It’s already starting off more interesting than the others we’ve had.

My boots crunch over the gravel path as I step deeper inside. Cypress trees stand tall like silent sentinels that frame the old burial grounds. The crypts here aren’t clean-cut or sterile. They’re ornate, gothic things, carved from black stone and wrapped in ivy. Everything here feels ancient. It feels forgotten, but it’s beautiful in the way ruins are beautiful. They’re pieces of poetry the dead left behind.

And, of course, he’s not here yet.

Because I’m learning that my darling fiancé lives to be dramatic.

I roll my eyes and walk farther in, the hem of my dress catching on a crooked root. It’s black lace, layered and sheer in all the right places—a little witchy, a little daring, and bloody perfect for the setting of our third date.

There’s a chill in the air that kisses my bare shoulders. It’s the kind that raises goosebumps and makes you glance over your shoulder even when you know you’re alone.

Except I’m not.

Not really because he’s here now. I feel him before I see him—a slow, deliberate shift in the bond like a ripple of shadow against my spine. It’s heavy and focused as he stalks me through the night.

“Kon,” I call softly, teasing. “If this turns into some ‘stalk the virgin in the cemetery’ kind of game, I should warn you—I bite, and I’m definitelynota virgin.”

His voice slides out of the dark like a caress wrapped in danger. “You think that scares me,Lisichka?”

Little Fox. He keeps calling me that, and I keep pretending I don’t know what it means.

A whisper of movement brushes past me too fast to track. A shadow slips between tombstones, and a breath catches at the back of my neck.

I whirl around, excitement thrumming through my veins. “Not fair if I can’t see you.”

“No one said I play fair.”

All that’s left is the kind of silence that presses against your eardrums and makes your heartbeat feel loud.

I smirk as my pulse races. “You know, I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”