Page 26

SASHA

T he shower lasted longer than usual.

Not only did I scrub clean every inch until it turned red, but I also stood under the streaming water for twenty minutes so it could cleanse away those assholes' filthy touch.

It didn’t help much. I feel like no matter how much I clean myself, there’s something dirty inside that I can’t reach.

Why do women have to deal with this everywhere we go? The whole outdated victim-blaming speech about ‘what you were wearing’ is laughable in this case. I was dressed as a damn man, but even that didn’t stop them.

During the entire process of cleaning and hating myself, I expect Kirill to either bang on the door or come inside to inspect what’s taking me so long, or both.

Surprisingly, none of the above happens, even though I’ve been in the shower for over forty minutes.

Kirill might have let me use his company for comfort, but he’s not a patient man, and he certainly doesn’t react well to any bursts of emotion.

I was surprised that he not only sat next to me earlier but also let me hug him and cry against his chest like a baby.

That’s not the Kirill I know, which made the gesture have more of an impact. I’m not sure anyone else would’ve been able to calm me down or wrench me out of those self-destructive thoughts.

I slip on a bathrobe that swallows me whole and stops right above my ankles and make sure to wrap the belt around my waist.

I can’t believe I threw myself in Kirill’s arms while I was completely naked. Talk about embarrassing myself.

Truth is, I’ve never been the type who’s comfortable with being naked, even before I had to disguise myself as a man.

Since the army, I’ve become so careful about that in order to protect my identity. So to say what happened earlier was normal would be a giant lie. The other day, too, after his nightmare. I willingly opened the blanket and hugged him while I was in the nude.

I’m almost certain it’s only because it’s Kirill. I don’t think I’d have the same reaction if it were anyone else.

It’s both fascinating and terrifying that he’s my first in many things—first crush, first sex, first heartbreak, and now, first—and only—person whose presence I feel comfortable and safe in since the massacre.

He’s slowly but surely occupying so much room in my life, and if he’s somehow removed, the gap will be too big to control.

I internally shake my head to chase away those thoughts.

On my way out, I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror and freeze. My cheeks are red, lips puffy, and my eyes shine with an unfamiliar light. It’s almost as if I look…radiant.

What the hell?

I want to deny those thoughts and shove them where no one can see, but as I step out, my heart thunders louder, harder, and with so much intensity, I think I’ll faint.

After trying and failing to control my illogical reaction, I head to the sitting area opposite the bed.

My shoulders drop when I find no trace of him.

Did he go to the office? But it’s late, and I’m sure that even he needs some downtime before he gets back to business.

Sometimes, I wonder if he’s a machine. It feels as if he was trained to always give two hundred percent of his attention and energy. That if he gives anything less, it’s an insult to his intelligence and capabilities.

But surely, he realizes how damaging that rhythm can be long-term. I don’t think he cares, though. I’m the only one who does.

I grab my phone from the nightstand and check my messages. My heart nearly leaps out of my throat when I find his name at the top of my notifications.

Kirill: I’m out on an errand. Get some rest. You’re off tomorrow.

I let myself fall on the mattress, chest inflating with the heavy weight of disappointment.

What type of errand could he have this late in the evening? He already had his meeting with the Pakhan, so what is this, and most importantly, why am I not part of it?

I pace the length of the room for what seems like an hour, then stare out of the window at the main entrance for another half an hour. When the car doesn’t show up, I text Maksim and Yuri but get no reply.

Does that mean they’re on whatever this errand is?

I glare at the phone. Why do they get to take part in it and I don’t? Besides, how could Kirill throw himself in danger’s way again after we barely escaped this day’s predicaments?

The fear I had when I woke up in that damn basement creeps back in me from all directions. If Kirill gets hurt and I’m not there to protect him, I’ll never forgive myself.

I lie down on the bed and try to expel those thoughts, but they continue haunting me in the form of gruesome images.

Shootings. Bombs. Snipers.

Stop it.

I lunge into a standing position and do over a hundred push-ups. Then I shower again, but this time, I let the cold water turn my skin blue. It does nothing to quench the fire inside me.

And Kirill is still not here.

My attention is divided between the door, my phone that has no new text messages, and the clock on the wall that’s now ticking past two in the morning.

Just when I think I’m going insane, the door softly opens. I jump up at the same time Kirill walks inside.

A low gasp leaves me when I catch a glimpse of blood splashed on his shirt, his neck, and face. Some form a blurry red smear on his glasses, probably from when he wiped them.

He strides inside with his usual leisure, not paying attention to all the blood that’s been the theme for the night.

Upon seeing me, he pauses and narrows his eyes slightly. I run to him and force myself to stop before I hug him or do something equally idiotic.

“What…what happened?” I can’t look away from the blood. I really, really hate that fucking stuff. Call me superstitious, but whenever I see it, I get a horrible feeling.

I probably shouldn’t have been in the army or the mafia. In hindsight, those two are terrible career choices.

But then again, I only get this hectic when those I care about are injured, specifically Kirill.

“Nothing much.” He casually removes his jacket and throws it on a nearby chair. “I only took care of some unfinished business.”

“What unfinished business?”

“Whatever remained of the Albanians’ nests. What are you doing up? I specifically told you to rest.”

“As if I could do that when you disappeared in the middle of the night. And don’t change the subject. You went after the rest of the Albanians on your own?”

“That’s what I said. But I wasn’t alone; Viktor, Yuri, and Maksim came along. I invited Damien, too. And while it was tedious to witness him laugh like a maniac the entire time, including him in action, it makes him owe me. We blew up their hideout and killed whoever didn’t die.”

“But why would you do that? Their other branches might come after you.”

“Let them. They’ll meet the same fate.”

“That’s not how it works, Kirill! You’re not the type who starts wars without a reason.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have a perfectly solid reason.”

“And what is that, I wonder?”

“They hurt you, and that’s enough incentive for war. I couldn’t be there to stop them. What I could do, however, is finish every last one of them.”

I think my heart is about to explode. That, or I’m having some form of heart issues that need to be checked.

How can he…render me speechless with a few words? Just how can he make me feel so cherished with a small sentence?

My voice softens. “I’m thankful for that, but as I said before, being the reason behind your problems brings me no joy. I don’t want you to collect enemies just because of me.”

“I only hear that you’re thankful. Everything else is redundant.”

“But—”

He jams his index finger against my mouth, causing me to shut up mid-objection.

“I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say, because it’ll only piss me off, and, considering the amount of anger and adrenaline in my system, I might react drastically toward that.

” He releases a charged breath and removes his finger.

“Today has been a long fucking day, so why don’t you go to sleep? ”

“What about you?” I whisper.

“I’ll go through a few reports.”

“You should rest, too.”

His eyes darken as they fall on my chest before he slowly slides them back to my face. “Just go.”

I look down and find that the opening of the bathrobe shows a hint of my breasts.

Is that what made his eyes darken and caused his demeanor to stiffen? I don’t really get my answer, but a strange compulsion pushes me to stare at him even as my cheeks catch flames. “I’m not tired.”

“Sasha…” The warning in his deep, somber tone strikes me in my bones. “If you don’t move this instant, you can only blame yourself for what I’ll do.”

My limbs shake, and tingles erupt all over my body, but I refuse to move. If anything, this place right here feels like the best place to be.

A second passes.

Two.

On the third, Kirill grabs me by my nape, fingers digging into my skin, and crashes my body to his.

Just like that, his hungry lips capture my starving ones.

I release a long breath that feels like relief. I’ve been starved for so long, and now that I have his intense touch again, it’s like I’m being struck by lightning.

He threads his fingers in my hair as the hard muscles of his body overpower my softer build. No matter how much I train, I could never measure up to the way his body is built like a weapon.

“Just so you know…” He wrenches his lips from mine and tears away his shirt.

The buttons fly everywhere before the blood-soaked material hits the ground. I’m rewarded with the view of his beautiful tattoos splayed across his rock-hard abs and chest.

His hands travel down, unbuckling his belt. “I’m going to fuck you, Sasha, and I’m going to do it so hard and fast, it’ll hurt.”

Electricity strikes my whole body, but I refuse to move. In fact, my body melts, waiting for his touch. I even undo the belt of my bathrobe.

It should be disturbing that I yearn for someone who not only doesn’t trust me but could also be involved in my family’s death.

But that’s the thing. I don’t think he is.