I can’t get the memory of her mouth on mine out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I feel the press of her lips and the unexpected rush that burned through me. It’s wrong, and I know it’s wrong, but it won’t leave me alone.

I stand in the hallway outside the main control room, where half a dozen of my men are monitoring surveillance feeds.

My phone buzzes with new updates on Thorne’s whereabouts, and I force myself to pay attention.

Evan Thorne is still at large. He’s got resources, contacts, and a vendetta that won’t die.

Yet all I can think about is one stolen kiss with his daughter that happened in a moment of pure frustration.

I step into the control room, greeting the men with a brief nod. Multiple screens show different areas of the Barkov estate. Guards patrol the corridors, courtyards, and gated walls. Everything is calm for now. The men look in my direction, waiting for instructions.

“Aleksei gave you the new rotation?” I ask one of them.

He nods. “Yes, Sir. We’ll keep watch through the night.”

I look at the monitors for another moment, looking for anything unusual. Each camera angle is clear. No sign of intrusion. I should feel relieved, but an uneasy feeling worms its way in. Maybe it’s just the tension in my head that won’t go away.

I move to the corner of the room, checking my phone. Maksim wants to meet in the study, and he wants me there soon. I step out, telling the men to call me if anything changes.

When I get there, Maksim leans against the desk. Nikolai sits in a chair, scrolling through messages on his phone. Akim stands by the window, and Aleksei is nowhere in sight.

“Finally,” Maksim grumbles. “We have a lead on a courier who might know where Thorne is hiding. He’s due to make a run tomorrow night.”

I take a seat in an armchair. “Which sector?”

“West side of the old district.” Maksim glances at Nikolai. “You want to handle it?”

Nikolai shrugs. “Sure. If he’s got any intel, I’ll find out.”

Akim chimes in. “I’ll send two men with you. Minimal show of force.”

I nod. “Keep it quiet. We don’t want Thorne slipping away because we scared one of his contacts into hiding.”

Nikolai sets his phone aside. “Understood.”

Maksim studies me with one brow lifted, and I try not to squirm under the scrutiny. “You look distracted.”

I fix him with a level stare. “I’m focused on finding Thorne.”

He exhales and pushes off the desk. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Akim slides his hands into his pockets. “You’ve been wound up ever since you brought that girl here.”

“You mean Cecily,” I offer.

Maksim nods. “She’s the daughter of our enemy, yet you’re letting her roam the estate. You keep an eye on her, but you’re not acting like she’s dangerous.”

“She’s under our protection because Seraphina, who is also the daughter of our enemy, asked us.”

Nikolai taps the edge of his phone. “Do you think Thorne let her get caught on purpose?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Maksim questions. “You know Thorne will do anything to gain an advantage. Maybe letting his daughter walk into our hands is part of his plan. Hell, he married one of them off to us for intel, remember?”

I scoff. “As if I could forget.”

“You’re the one who’s been dealing with her,” Maksim points out. “Has she asked about the estate’s defenses or questioned the layout? Does she linger near cameras, guard stations, anything like that?”

I flash back to her wandering the corridors, searching for exits and probing any weakness I left exposed. She’s trying to escape, not gather intelligence for her father. Yet, the thought ignites a flicker of doubt.

“She’s not a spy,” I declare, though part of me wonders if I should be more cautious. “She wants to get out, not feed information to Thorne.”

Maksim’s expression reveals he’s not convinced. “All I’m saying is keep your eyes open. If she’s more than a pawn, we should be ready.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Fine. I’ll keep it in mind. But I’m telling you, she’s no plant. She’s too angry, too stubborn, too…real.”

Maksim and Nikolai exchange a glance, but neither argues further. Akim stands by the window, fiddling with the blinds. After a brief pause, Nikolai stands, says he needs to prepare for tomorrow’s lead, and leaves with Akim. Maksim follows soon after.

I stay behind, sinking deeper into my thoughts. My phone buzzes with a message from Aleksei, telling me about another detail that needs checking. I handle that quickly, but my focus strays back to Cecily. The memory of that kiss edges in again, filling me with heat and annoyance all at once.

She’s got me off balance, and I hate being off balance.

I decide to head to my bedroom for a while, away from prying eyes.

I walk the corridor, passing staff and guards.

When I reach my door, I step inside and sit behind my desk.

A stack of folders awaits me, each one containing background on Thorne’s known associates.

I open the top file and skim it, but my attention drifts.

Thoughts of Cecily continue to push forward in my mind.

Why can’t I shake her? I swore to be a man of discipline, the kind who puts duty first, always. This attraction is unwelcome, but my body doesn’t care. Whenever I see her, I think about that mouth, that spark, the way she defied me with a kiss.

I close the folder and lean back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. If Maksim suspects she’s a spy, I need to be careful. But my gut tells me he’s wrong. She’s driven by genuine emotion, not strategy. She might be cunning in her own way, but it’s aimed at escape, not infiltration.

Still, I can’t dismiss the possibility entirely. Thorne is manipulative. He could have planted fear in her, forcing her to do something out of desperation. I remind myself to stay vigilant.

The day slips by with no new leads on Thorne.

By early evening, I head downstairs to check the security feed again.

I enter the control room, confirm with the men that everything’s secure, and walk out to the hall.

That’s when I spot Cecily. She stands near a tall bookshelf, running her fingers over the spines of old volumes.

My pulse skyrockets despite my best efforts.

She seems to sense me behind her and turns around, steeling into something guarded. “Have you found my father yet?”

“Not yet. We’re working on it.”

“Are you sure you’re ‘working on it,’ or is that just an excuse to keep me here?”

I bite back a retort. She’s good at provoking me. “I have men investigating leads.”

She looks down at the floor and then meets my gaze again. “You make it sound like I should be grateful.”

“Do you want me to say sorry for protecting you?”

She scoffs. “No, I want you to say there’s an end in sight. I want you to treat me like a person who can make her own choices.”

I catch myself before I respond, taking a moment to think. When Seraphina asked us to rescue her sister, I expected someone battered by her father’s cruelty, someone who would cling to any safety offered. Instead, she stands here, defying me with every breath.

Most women in the Bratva obey without question.

They understand that we rule, and they are expected to abide by our decisions.

Seraphina is an exception, but she has been through her share of trials.

Cecily, however, is a wild card, unpredictable and unwilling to bend.

She’s nothing like I thought she would be, and it’s driving me insane.

“I’m doing what I think is right. You may not like it, but it’s the only way to ensure Thorne doesn’t use you against us.”

“Maybe he already has. Maybe he let me get taken. Ever thought about that?”

A pang of worry stabs through me at the memory of Maksim’s suggestion. “I considered it,” I admit. “But I don’t believe you’re working for him.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

I choose my words carefully. “You don’t seem interested in anything except leaving. A spy would ask more questions and gather additional information. You’re too angry to focus on infiltration.”

“So you trust me?”

“I trust your motives,” I reply. “Doesn’t mean I trust your decisions.”

“I’m not a child.”

I lift my shoulders in a simple shrug. “Then stop acting like one.”

A flash of rage crosses her face, painting her cheeks bright red. “Why do you treat me like I’m this fragile thing one minute, then pin me to a wall the next?”

“What happened was—”

“A mistake?” she supplies.

“I told you, you’re here because of Seraphina. That’s all. We want Thorne neutralized, and we want you safe.”

She exhales, and her eyes move to the floor. “Fine.” Before she steps away, she speaks without looking at me. “I hate that I don’t know who to trust anymore. Even my own sister seems to be against me.”

My stomach twists at the pain in her voice. “You can trust me.”

She continues down the corridor without replying. I stand there, torn between wanting to chase after her and reminding myself that she’s not mine to chase. She’s a mission, a responsibility, an obligation to my family. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

Later that night, I’m back in the study, re-checking intelligence reports on Thorne.

Akim provided some updates from an informant who believes Thorne is hiding near the docks.

The information isn’t confirmed, but I note it for future reference.

My phone buzzes with a message from Maksim, telling me the courier meeting is set for tomorrow.

Everything is under control, yet I feel on edge.

I toss the folder onto the desk, pressing my fingers to my temples. My mind drifts to the conversation with Cecily. She asked me why I treat her as if she’s fragile one minute and then trap her the next. I didn’t have a good answer.

I walk to the window and stare out at the grounds. Guards stand at their posts, watchful and steady. Thorne is still out there, plotting. I can’t lose sight of that, no matter how much her kiss haunts me.

She’s a distraction I don’t want—a complication that ties my thoughts in knots.

I remember her expression from earlier, the flash of pain that crossed her face when she confessed she doesn’t know who to trust. Part of me wanted to ease her fears, to reassure her.

Another part of me wanted to stay as far away as possible.

She’s off-limits. She’s Thorne’s daughter, and I have no business wanting her.

Yet I do.

I grit my teeth at the admission. My father always told me that desire is a weakness if you can’t control it. Right now, I’m not controlling it at all.

A knock on the door drags me from my thoughts. “Enter.”

The door opens, and Cecily steps inside. She avoids my eyes at first. Something about her stance suggests she’s not here to fight.

“I wanted to ask about the docking reports,” she says, gesturing to the papers scattered on the desk. “One of the guards told me Thorne might be near the water. Is that true?”

I rest a hand on the desk, measuring my response. She’s never taken an interest in our operations before, aside from pushing for her own release. “We’re following leads. Nothing is confirmed.”

She moves closer, and I fight the urge to step back. “Do you think he’s planning to attack the estate?” she asks quietly.

I exhale as I observe her face for any hint that she’s trying to get more information than she’s entitled to. “He might. He knows you’re here, and he wants to break the Barkovs in any way he can.”

“So he’d come for me, using the estate as a battleground?”

“Possibly. We won’t let that happen.”

She looks down at the files silently for a moment. Then she looks up at me with those hazel eyes, and I have to hold my breath. “Is it just business for you? Protecting me, fighting him, all of it?”

“It’s more than business,” I admit. “He hurt my family. He put you and Seraphina in danger. This is personal.”

She nods. “I thought so.”

She glances at the desk as she taps her fingers against the back of a chair. I watch her, and a strange warmth settles in my chest. This isn’t the fiery confrontation from earlier. It’s almost…calm. An uneasy calm, but calm nonetheless.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m…trying to understand what’s going on.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“I’m still angry,” she clarifies, though there’s a hint of apology in her tone. “Angry about all of this, about not having a choice.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I know.”

She lifts her eyes to mine again, and for an instant, we’re not captor and captive, not exactly. We’re two people caught in a complicated web, each trying to figure out how to survive.

“Sometimes, I think I hate you. Other times, I’m not so sure.”

“You’re not the only one confused.”

She exhales, gives me a slight nod, and then steps back. “I should go.”

I fight the urge to stop her. “Rest. We’ll know more about Thorne soon.”

She slips out the door, and the quiet in the room feels louder than before. My chest constricts with the knowledge that I’m more drawn to her than I want to admit.

She was supposed to be an asset to protect, a promise to keep.

She was never supposed to be the one person who challenges me in ways I don’t have answers for.

When my father was alive, he warned me about emotional entanglements in this life, especially with someone who stands on the edge of our war.

But here I am, letting her push every boundary I set.

I stare at the closed door and wonder if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life by allowing her to get this close. Then I gather the files, turn off the lamp on the desk, and tell myself I’ll find a way to keep my head clear.

I have to.

Yet the memory of her lips remains.