Page 17

Katya

Nikolai’s rage is a living thing. It’s there in the way he leans over me, his shoulders tight, eyes cold and waiting for me to lie. But I won’t.

He’s holding me against the wall, his grip firm but not cruel. My neck throbs where his fingers pressed, like a warning he never intended to give. His words slice through me, every syllable coated in anger and something worse—betrayal.

“So you’re gonna play nice, be my good girl, and spill every fucking word. No half-truths. No omissions. Right. Fucking. Now.”

I try to breathe through the ache in my throat. I try to ignore the way my body wants to shrink away from him, even as my mind is screaming that I need to make him understand. I don’t look at him when I start talking. It’s easier to pretend I’m not exposing my whole damn soul this way.

“Dmitri,” I force the name out. “He was recruiting for Kirill’s Bratva. One of the key figures, actually. The man who brought in desperate girls and sold them dreams until they were too deep to crawl back out. That’s how he found Irina.”

Nikolai’s eyes flicker, but he stays silent. Waiting.

“I spent months piecing it all together. Following leads, bribing people who’d worked for him. Dmitri’s name came up over and over. But he was paranoid, always kept himself locked away unless he was indulging in his vices.”

“What vices?”

“Underground parties. High-profile gatherings for criminals and businessmen.” I push the words out. “I paid my way in. Posed as an escort under a fake name. Alina.”

The shift in his expression tells me he recognizes the name.

“Alina Petrov’s death was pretty popular back then, after it was said she broke up with her Arab prince boyfriend. She was always in a hijab, so no one really saw her face. I thought it’d rattle him. And it did.”

“So you baited him.”

“Yes.” I swallow, my mouth dry. “For weeks, I kept up the act. Showed up at every one of those damn parties, pretending to be exactly what he wanted. The young, estranged widow whose daddy never let out. Charming. Vulnerable. Willing to do anything for safety. The kind of girl who’d beg for protection and pay for it in loyalty. The kind of girl he preyed on.”

“And he believed it?”

I nod. “I guess he must have done his research obviously, and found out who I really was, but he didn’t care. I was just a girl after all, and he still wanted to fuck me. He took me back to his mansion one night. Thought he’d finally broken me. Thought he’d finally won me over.”

A muscle ticks in Nikolai’s jaw. “Did he touch you?”

“No.” I hold his stare, refusing to let him look away. “I poisoned his drink. Something slow-acting. Enough to make him weak, but not kill him. And then I demanded answers about Irina.”

“Did he give you any?”

“No.” My voice trembles, but I press on. “He laughed. Called her just another lost girl. Easy to recruit. Easy to break.”

“What did you do?”

“I stabbed him.” I don’t flinch at the memory. “Again and again until he stopped laughing.”

Nikolai’s silence is worse than shouting. His eyes, that unyielding stare, pinning me in place. But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for me to break, to cry out of rage or fall apart. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“I wanted them to think it was a rival hit,” I continue. “I wanted everyone to believe it was something messy, brutal. I wanted it to make waves. I needed them to notice.”

He scoffs. “Well, congratulations. You got noticed.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I snap back. “Do you think I don’t know what I’ve done? I did it because I was desperate. Because he was the reason Irina got pulled into this world. Your boss was nothing but a predator hiding behind power.”

“And you’re any better?”

“No. But at least I’m trying to do something about it.”

The air between us feels thin, stretched to breaking. But I’m not done. Not yet.

“I followed you because I thought you might have answers. Because you worked for him. Because you were part of the same world that destroyed her.”

“You lied to me.”

“I had to. And I would do it again if it meant getting closer to the truth.”

His stare cuts through me, merciless. “So this is your excuse? Using me?”

“I thought that’s all it was going to be.” I force myself to hold his stare. “But then I fell for you. All the time I spent following you, using you for information—that was the plan. But this?”

He’s watching me, not moving, barely breathing. And I know it’s now or never.

“I fell for you hard,” I whisper, my voice splintering. “You weren’t supposed to matter. But you do. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Stop.”

“No.” My voice breaks, but I don’t care. “You have to understand—I didn’t plan for this. I think you have your own idea of me. And it’s wrong.”

He jerks away from me, like my words burned him. “You don’t understand.”

I close the distance between us, my hands finding his face, my fingers pressing against his jaw. “Can’t you see I love you? That I’m done fighting it?”

“Don’t say that.” His voice is rough, torn like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I love you.” The words spill out, fierce and raw. “I love you. I love you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Listen to me.” His voice is rough, shredded. “You’re making a mistake. You’re in love with a man who’s done terrible things. Killed people. Maimed them. Covered up deaths until I can’t even count them anymore.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to act like you’re fine with that. Because if you are, then you’re just as fucked up as I am.”

“Then I guess I am.”

He stares at me like I’ve just ripped open my chest and shown him something grotesque. Something ugly and impossible to accept.

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” I say, my voice breaking. “I love you. Whatever that means. Whatever it costs.”

He turns away, his shoulders rigid. “You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

He doesn’t answer. Just turns away like he’s afraid of what I’ll see if he looks at me.

I don’t move. Don’t speak. Just wait for him to come back to me. Because I know he will. Whether he wants to or not.

“Listen to me, Katya. I know you think you understand what you’re saying, that you’ve gone so deep into this, you believe you’re one of us. But you’re wrong. You’ve killed one man your whole life. The other? That was adrenaline, trying to save me. That doesn’t make you badass. It doesn’t mean you can stomach the ugliness that thrives in my world. My world is filled with sick, vicious men—like Dmitri, like Kirill, like me. Men who prey on the innocent and strike them down even when they’re already broken.”

He continues explaining, his eyes now tired and glazed over.

“You want to know why we never crossed paths when you were hunting Dmitri? Because I was on my last mission for him. In Cuba. Killing a man and his family because he backed out of a business deal that cost Dmitri millions. Dmitri wanted it glorious. Wanted it etched into the man’s generations of descendants. You want to know what I did?”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No. I’m going to fucking tell you. Because this is the kind of shit I’ve dealt with my whole life. I was in Cuba for three months, using the cover of a gym instructor. Charming his wife, making her fall for me. And when I finally did, I fucked her, Katya. Over and over, twisted her until she was addicted to me. Showed her every depraved fantasy her old man couldn’t manage. The final time, when I was supposed to end the mission, I convinced her to take me to their matrimonial bed. I fucked her on it, made her scream for me until the sound echoed off the walls. And I made sure her husband, who was supposed to be away, came home to see me fucking his wife. Then I shot him twice in the head while I was still inside her, and shot her in the mouth while she was still screaming. I killed them without any remorse. Then I rigged their entire house with explosives and blew it up—with their kids and staff still inside. Because that’s what people like me do, that’s what this world demands of people in it. People who have no business making a girl like you love them. So, no, you don’t know what you’re saying when you say you love me. And thanks for telling me the truth, but we’re done here. Pack up and leave before I change my mind.”

He moves away, but before he can reach the door, I grab his hand. “Why do you sound like you want me to hate you?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Why say all of this now, unprovoked? You want me to look at you less like a devil and more like someone who doesn’t deserve love.”

“Because you should.” His voice cracks. “I’ve done things, Katya. Things you can’t even imagine. And the worst part is... I’d do them again if it meant keeping you safe.”

He steps forward, his eyes burning with something fierce and desperate. “You’ve made me weak. You’ve made me want things I have no right to want. And it terrifies me.”

“Then why push me away?”

“Because you matter to me.” His voice breaks, like he’s been holding something in for too long. “I care about you in a way I’ve never cared about anyone. And I hate it. I hate how you’ve wormed your way into every part of me. How I can’t breathe right when you’re not there.”

“Then stop fighting it.”

He closes his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t.”

I swallow, refusing to let his words wound me. “Yes, you can. I know what I’ve done. I know it’s not the same as what you’ve been through. But I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of whatever hell you think you’re dragging me into.”

I hold his face in my hands. My fingers are gripping tight. “You think I haven’t accepted who you are, but I have. I know what you’re capable of, Nikolai. I know you’ve done monstrous things. But if you think that’s going to push me away, then you’re the one who’s naive.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do.” My voice rises. “I know you’re broken. Twisted. That you’ve hurt people and will keep hurting them if it means surviving. But you think that makes you unlovable? That you’re the first man to drown in his own darkness and still crave something good?”

“Katya—”

“I accept all of it.” My words tumble out. “The blood. The cruelty. The twisted need you have to break things before you can believe they’re real. I’m not afraid of your darkness, Nikolai. I’m telling you I love you because I see all of you. And I’m still here.”

His shoulders tremble, his eyes burning as he fights whatever war is raging inside him.

“And if you think that makes me sick, then maybe I am. Maybe I’m just as fucked up as you are. But if that’s what it takes to understand you, to be close to you, then I’ll take it.”

His breath shudders. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted. And you’re the only man who’s ever made me feel like I could be something more than just broken pieces.”

He stares at me, his chest heaving. “You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do.”

The admission fractures something in him. I see it in the way his expression crumbles, his defenses unraveling.

He reaches for me, his fingers threading through my hair, his mouth crushing against mine like he’s trying to breathe me in.

It’s only after the kiss breaks that he whispers, voice cracking, “I will find her, Katya. I will bring Irina back to you. I’ll burn down the entire fucking world if I have to. I’ll tear apart everyone who’s ever hurt you. And when I bring her back, I’ll prove to you that you’re more than just another mistake I’ve made. And if I can’t...I’ll die trying.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I only nod. Because I believe him. Even if he doesn’t believe in himself.

“God—I’d be crazy to ever leave. Okay? I’m just…I have never felt this way for someone. I’m usually careful. I don’t do relationships because that’s vulnerability I cannot afford, but with you, I don’t care about being vulnerable. I only care about protecting you.”

“But you protect me.”

“I’m not naive to believe that my world isn’t dangerous. It is, trust me. I want you to be careful because…I don’t think…I care too much about you.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

But his frown nearly upsets the balance. I’ve been able to name what I feel for him, which is more courage than I usually have, and I’m still waiting to hear it back.

“I love you, Nikolai,” I try again. “Maybe more than I probably should.”

“Do you really?” He asks in a strangled breath. “Say it again. I want to hear you say it louder.”

So, I do. “I love you, Nikolai Ramensky. I am absolutely, completely in love with you.”

He pulls me to his body and kisses me. Pleasure shoots through me in a thousand ways just as he lifts me up from the floor and sets me on the kitchen sink. From the glass window, I can see the garden and all the flowers in bloom. I can see some of his guys, all dressed in black, waiting with their guns poised. If one of them turns, they’ll see us, but I don’t care. I’m here with the man I love.

I help to pull down his jacket. I trace his tattoos with my hands, even though I can’t take my time to enjoy them now. He smiles down at me, understanding that I’m trying to gain control, and letting me do it regardless.

“I want this,” he says, tearing off my shirt with animalistic urgency. “I need this.”

I drag my hands up his body, fighting to be rid of the shirt. “Take it off,” I moan. “I want to feel your body on mine right now.”

He takes the shirt off quickly and with such efficiency, I’m left dazzled. He works the snap of my bra, throws it away and shimmies my skirt off. My panties come down next until I’m left completely naked to him. For the briefest of moments, I let myself feel embarrassed. He can see the small scar on my left rib cage from when I’d fallen from a bike when I was ten. He can see the freckles on my body, the birthmark I don’t think I like—everything.

I reach to close my hands in front of my chest but he pushes them away. “You’re gorgeous.”

I blush hard in response. Nikolai spreads my legs open without warning and stands between my thighs. He cups my breasts before sighing in astonishment. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Nikolai…”

He flicks my nipples. Pinches. Then, he inclines his head, bows down, and takes a hard nipple into his mouth. I arch my back to welcome him once his wet tongue begins lapping at the sensitive bud. “Ah…so good…”

With the free hand, he teases my other nipple, and I moan loudly as goose bumps rise up my skin. From the open windows, I catch one of the guys staring. He quickly looks away, embarrassed. I, on the other hand, feel as though my world has just been opened up. “Ohhh…baby…mmmm.”

Finally, he straightens and looks me clearly in the eyes. “Are you ready for me, baby? Ready to take my cock? I’m hard for you…”

“Yes!”

In one brutal thrust, he buries his cock inside me and fills my hole up. Tears well up in my eyes as a result because, damn it, I think he’s ruined me for all of eternity. And I like it.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he growls, his voice dripping with obsession. He makes another sound resembling a deep, guttural moan before pulling out of me. He thrusts in at once again, more viciously and I gasp in surprise, my body jolting against the sink. “Say it, Katya. Say you’re nothing without me.”

I choke on the words, my throat tight, but he slams into me again, deeper, and I break. “I’m nothing without you,” I whimper, voice trembling, my nails raking down his back, drawing blood.

“Again,” he snarls, his hand sliding up to my throat, fingers wrapping around my neck, squeezing just enough to blur the edges of my vision. “Say you were made for me.”

“I was made… you,” I gasp, the air thinning, my head spinning as he fucks me harder, the edge of the sink biting into my thighs. I can barely breathe, but the pressure, the brutality—it’s everything I didn’t know I craved.

“More,” he demands, tightening his grip, his hips slamming into me with savage force, his cock stretching me past what I thought I could take. “Say you’ll never get over me.”

“I’ll never get over you,” I sob, my voice breaking as my body shakes under him, teetering on the edge of collapse. I’m dizzy, lightheaded, my pulse hammering against his hand, but I need it—this filthy, unhinged spiral we’re trapped in. I dig my fingers down into his back, unsure where I ended and Nikolai began. I come in a matter of a few seconds. My head spins as I scream out, vaguely aware of him whispering words to me in Russian, his voice a grasping growl against my ear. When the orgasm rolls off me and I come down to earth, I kiss him, desperate, hungry, tasting the sweat and sin on his lips.

“You belong with me forever, Krasivaya!” I mutter against the sweetness of his lips, my voice ragged. “I’m never letting you go. You’re my end and my beginning!”

“Don’t think I’m ever going to leave you either. Do you hear me?” His hand stays on my throat, a claim, a chain. A prison I’m happy in.

“Yes, ohhh…Nik.” My eyes are half-hooded and heavy, satisfied, but I’m still trembling, still tethered to him.

“We’re not done yet, baby,” he says in a husky tone. I can see the need in his eyes. In his lips. In the way he holds me to him, like I’m his to break. “You’re gonna take my load, aren’t you? Gonna let me fuck you until you can’t think straight.”

“Wait—”

But he doesn’t. Instead, Nikolai continues his onslaught of my pussy, slamming hard against me every single time, his hand tightening around my neck until black spots dance in my vision. I’m feverish with need as he stretches me to accommodate his length, pounding me raw. Nothing about this is rehearsed, and when I glance back outside, the others are staring, and nobody is turning away. I’m supposed to be embarrassed. I’ve been embarrassed over a lot less, but suddenly, I feel powerful. Untethered. In love. Twisted and alive in the wreckage of us.

“Beg for it,” he rasps, his free hand digging into my hip. “Beg me to ruin you.”

“Please, Nik… ruin me,” I moan, my voice a fractured plea as my body arches into him, chasing the edge of oblivion. I’m so close to passing out, the air barely scraping through my lungs, but I want it—want him to push me until I shatter.

We come together, breathlessly, sweating, a mess of growls and cries. He kisses my neck as he comes, his teeth sinking into my skin, marking me as his, and then, out of the blue, he does something unexpected. He tells me he loves me.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say this or feel this way about someone. But I do. I am in love with you, Katya Yasenev. Completely.” His voice is rough, spent, but it’s never sounded more beautiful.

I kiss him with everything I am—my lips crashing into his, tasting the tears, the sweat, the salt, the madness tangled between us.