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CHARLOTTE

I squeeze Declan’s hand as he unlocks the golden doors to Inferno.

At first glance, it’s impressive, but not shocking—just another exclusive club with a sleek circular bar at its center. Suited men cluster around it, their conversations dying the moment Declan steps in. The energy shifts. Heavy. Electric.

“This is our bar area. A waiting room, let’s call it,” he murmurs, leaning in.

“Want a drink?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

I need my focus sharp.

As we move on, I catch a cluster of women tucked in the corner. They’re all flawless—curves, lingerie, expertly done hair and faces. One of them, a blonde with piercing green eyes, giggles and flutters her fingers at Declan.

He doesn’t blink. Just tightens his grip on my hand and keeps walking.

He scans his thumbprint on the next set of golden doors. The hallway beyond is lined with black doors, each with ornate gold handles and names etched above them.

“These?” I ask, nodding toward them.

“Private rooms. Each one tailored to a particular… taste.”

I pause at one called Retribution , raising a brow.

He tugs me in close, slaps my ass. “For the naughty ones. Like you.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

“What other rooms are there?” I whisper.

He smirks. “Everything you could imagine.”

I slide my arms around his waist. “Even a milkshake one?”

“No. That one’s just for us.” He winks and gives my ass another squeeze.

As we walk, I can’t help but wonder how many people are behind these doors right now.

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” I ask.

“Sometimes. Depends. Work brings me in more than anything.”

I bite my tongue. Our worlds are still so different. Can I really give him everything he needs?

“Stop it.” His voice is stern.

I freeze. “What?”

In a flash, I’m backed against a door, his fingers wrapped around my throat.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself,” he growls. “Or what I want with you.”

His mouth hovers over mine, teeth grazing my bottom lip.

“You and me? We’re not like the others. Your past? It doesn’t matter. Your confidence? That’s what I’ll work on. Because Charlotte, you’re fucking everything. Inside and outside of this bedroom. You just need to be worshipped. Trained. And that, sweetheart, I can handle.”

His grip tightens, and I shiver.

“You think you can handle me?” I whisper.

“Handle?” His smirk is feral. “I’ll own you.”

He steps back. “Open your legs.”

I glance around.

His hand snaps up, tilting my chin.

“Lesson one. Listen. Follow orders. Trust.”

I part my legs and gasp as his hand slides beneath my jeans.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Five years I’ve waited to feel this pretty cunt again.”

“More, sir. Please.”

His mouth crushes mine. My hands tangle in his hair, desperate for more of him, of this.

“You want me to give you more?”

I nod. “Please.”

He nips my lip. “I’m not here to give you pleasure, heartbreaker. Giving you an orgasm implies they are yours. That isn’t the case. I take them from you. Because they are mine, just as you are. I own every inch of you. Every climax, every moan, every fucking drop of you belongs to me.”

He slips a finger inside me and a sound escapes my lips.

“That moan?” His voice drops. “All. Fucking. Mine.”

Just as my legs begin to tremble, he pulls away. I sag against the door, breathless.

He licks his fingers clean and smirks. “Mine.”

Grabbing my hand, he presses it to the hard bulge in his jeans.

“This is what you do to me. Don’t you ever doubt yourself again, heartbreaker.”

I nod and squeeze him through his jeans.

“I’m glad I never killed you,” I whisper.

He chuckles and strokes my cheek. “Me too, sweetheart. Now let’s go hunt down the bastards who tore us apart.”

We climb the stairs, a massive chandelier glittering above us. Another secure door, another layer of secrecy. We step into a room warmed by a glowing fire.

"What's behind that other door?" I ask, eyeing it.

“I’ll show you after.”

We head through the left, and conversation halts instantly. Conan and Finn are the first faces I see.

Finn watches me, gray eyes unreadable, hands clasped beneath his chin. Conan grins when he sees Declan holding my hand.

Enzo stands with his usual icy composure, and beside him, a man in a black balaclava, built like Conan. His dark brown eyes flick to me, intense but not cruel. Tattoos lace his hands like armor.

“Come on.” Declan tugs me to the head of the table. Two chairs. He pulls one out.

“Equals or nothing, right? Now sit.”

I sit. He joins me.

Declan clears his throat. His hand finds my thigh.

“I’d like to formally introduce Charlotte.”

They nod. Even Enzo offers a flicker of a smile.

“Conan, Finn, you’ve met her already.”

Finn scoffs. “You need assessing, brother? I can have Hallie pencil you in.”

Conan nudges him.

Declan shoots him a look. “I’m fine. You might need it after I knock you out, though.”

“Brotherly love,” Mikhail rumbles with a laugh. “Me and Nikolai are the same.”

Declan chuckles. “Charlotte, this is Mr. Volkov.”

A chill ripples down my spine as I meet Mikhail’s gaze.

“Charlotte,” he says, voice like cold thunder. “I heard it was you who eliminated the last of my father’s men?”

Declan tenses beside me.

“Yes,” I say.

Mikhail nods once. “Good work.”

Enzo clears his throat, flipping open my notes.

“Excellent intel. But one name is missing.”

My chest tightens.

“Drago,” Enzo says.

I glance at Declan. He nods.

“Drago,” I repeat, louder.

“Why exclude him?”

I bounce my leg and Declan clamps down on it.

“Because he’s the only one in there I trust. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Enzo trades a look with Mikhail.

“Seems we share a contact.”

Mikhail’s tone drops. “Be very careful owing that man a debt.”

My jaw tightens. Drago’s complicated, yes. But he’s protected me for a decade. He’s not the enemy.

“For me, there is no debt,” I say quietly.

Enzo doesn’t look convinced. “We’ll see.”

“We need Drago,” Declan jumps in. “He’s the only way to get to Vlad.”

Finn frowns. “Why?”

Conan cracks his knuckles. “We talking bombs? Guns? Knives?”

“No!” I slam my hands on the table. The room stills.

Declan just smirks like this is normal.

“My daughter is in that house,” I say, voice steady. “She is our mission. Get her out. Safely.”

“Our daughter,” Declan corrects, softly.

The way Conan’s mouth drops open would be funny if this weren’t life and death.

Enzo sighs. “This just got complicated.”

“Are you sure she’s yours?” Finn asks Declan, his voice tight.

“Yes.”

Enzo turns to Declan. “Do you have Drago’s contact?”

Declan slides over his phone.

“What time?”

“Now.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Mikhail says, reaching out.

I look him dead in the eyes, pulse racing. The next words out of my mouth might blow up everything.