Page 8

Aleksander

The night air slices through me as I step out of the car, but I barely notice. Rage burns hot in my veins, driving every step. That piece of shit thought he could put his hands on my woman and walk away? He’s about to fucking learn what it means to mess with me.

My man, Andrey’s leaning against the car, his expression calm, as always. “Ready?” he asks, straightening as I approach.

I nod, my hand tightening around the grip of my gun.

Andrey nods back, not a question in his eyes.

I climb into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel. “He’s hiding at his girl’s place,” he informs me.

The engine purrs as we move through the city, the lights flashing by. All I see are those bruises on Sierra’s perfect skin. The fear in her eyes when she told me that piece of trash threatened her siblings. It’s been fucking eating me alive since she told me.

When we pull up in front of a rundown building, and Andrey leads the way, silent as we move up the stairs. The place fucking reeks.

We get to a door, and Andrey pounds on it. “Open up!”

That dickhead is probably trying to decide whether to run. Before he can make a choice, Andrey kicks the door, the wood splintering as it crashes open. The place is dark, the air stale. The guy stands in the center of the room, his eyes wide and terrified. He fucking knows who I am.

“M-Mr. Maksimov, please, I—”

I’m on him before he finishes, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “You thought you could put your hands on her and get away?” I growl, my grip tightening until he’s choking.

He claws at my hand, panic in his eyes. “P-Please, Mr. Maksimov—”

I yank him forward, then slam him back into the wall. His head cracks against the plaster. “You fucking touched what’s mine.” My voice drops to a cold whisper. “You’re gonna pay for every fucking mark you left on her.”

I pull my knife from my pocket; the blade glinting in the dim light. I press it against his throat, feeling the pulse under my hand as his panic spikes. “You threatened my fucking family.”

He whimpers, shaking, his eyes pleading. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Maksimov, please, I’ll leave town, I’ll—”

I dig the blade into his cheek, slow and deliberate, feeling the flesh give way. His scream fills the room, and blood runs down his face. “You think you get to fucking walk away?” I snarl, my grip tightening.

I drag the knife down his face, cutting deep. His blood flows, staining my hand, and his screams echo through the room, but I don’t stop. I twist the blade, watching as he writhes. His face twisted in agony. But it’s not enough—nowhere near fucking enough.

“You hurt my woman.” I growl, leaning even closer.

I pull the knife out, wiping it on his shirt, then switch to my gun. I shoot him in the knee, and his scream turns into a howl as he drops to the floor. He’s sobbing, begging for his life.

I crouch next to him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head up so he’s forced to look at me. I lift the gun again, aiming it at his head. “Stupid motherfucker.”

He barely manages a sob before I pull the trigger. The shot echoes in the small room, and his body slumps, lifeless. I stand, my hands covered in blood, and glance at Andrey, who nods.

The rage finally starts to fade. Sierra’s safe. The piece of shit threatening her is fucking gone.

* * *

SIERRA

I know I should be scared. Hell, part of me is scared.

But it’s like every time I think about the way he touched me, my body instinctively reacts.

My nipples harden, the heat between my legs won’t quit.

I keep telling myself this isn’t right, that I shouldn’t be feeling like this.

For a man like him. A mob boss. And my ex’s dad.

A dangerous man. Old enough to be my father.

A man so bad that he was at an auction, ready to buy a human being.

But what I’m feeling for him is too strong.

He decided I’m his, no questions asked. And instead of backing away, all I feel is a burning ache for his body, his presence. My heart’s racing, my skin tingling. I know I should freak out, but I don’t.

I try to calm my breathing, but it’s hard when every inch of me’s still buzzing.

I’ve never felt like this—like my body’s running the show, and my brain’s just along for the ride.

But I know I should keep my guard up. Even when I think about the way he looked at me, all hungry and intense. I feel my resolve slip a little more.

I know who Aleksander is. What he’s capable of.

I’ve heard the stories, and I should be terrified.

But when he’s close, when he’s looking at me like that, all my will melts under the fire of my need for him.

It’s like he’s got me under a fucking spell, and I don’t know how to break it—or if I even want to.

I run my hand over my face, trying to steady myself. But the ache is still there, deep and pulsing. This thing between us isn’t going anywhere. It’s only getting stronger, and I’m just as caught up in it as he is.