Page 35 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

T he ride back is quiet, but it’s a good kind of quiet. The kind that settles deep, like something unspoken hanging between us.

When we reach the stable, it’s empty except for the soft sounds of the horses shifting in their stalls.

I swing off first, then turn to help Clary down, gripping her waist to steady her.

I should let go as soon as her feet hit the ground, but my hands linger, my fingers flexing slightly against the fabric of her sweater.

She looks up at me, lips parting like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t.

I swallow hard and force myself to step back, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her again.

The drive to Miranda’s is short, but I still walk her to the door. It’s instinct, something ingrained in me too deep to ignore. The cold night air curls around us, but I barely feel it. Not when she’s standing so close, her hair slightly messy, her lips still kiss-swollen from earlier.

I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants. She doesn’t. Instead, she rises onto her toes, meeting me halfway, and then our lips press together, slow and unhurried. There’s no urgency, no desperation—just the quiet, lingering heat of something that’s been building for far too long.

By the time I pull back, we’re both breathing a little heavier. I rest my forehead against hers for just a second before I finally force myself to step away.

I slide into the driver’s seat, my breaths still uneven as I grip the wheel. Clary’s scent lingers on my skin, something sweet and soft that doesn’t belong in the world I’m about to step back into.

The phone buzzes again. This time, I answer.

“What?”

“Ah, so you are alive.” Lucky’s voice is laced with amusement. “Figured you might still be frolicking in the woods.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Not in the mood, Lucky. What do you want?”

“Got a little surprise waiting for you. Our missing friend? The one who walked off with those documents?” A pause. “We found him.”

That gets my attention. I straighten, my grip on the wheel tightening. “Where?”

“Warehouse in the meatpacking district. He’s all cozy and tied up, waiting for you.” Another pause, then Lucky adds, “Bratva. Low level, but still. Thought you’d want the honors.”

I exhale slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be there in twenty.”

I hang up and start the car, the warmth in my chest from earlier quickly turning to something colder.

The warehouse is exactly as I remember—dim, cavernous, and reeking of blood and metal. A place meant for work, for things that never see the light of day.

Lucky’s waiting just inside, arms crossed, his usual easy smirk in place. “Took you long enough.”

I ignore him, my gaze already on the man hanging from the meat hook. Mid-thirties, dark hair matted with sweat, his expensive suit torn and stained. His face is a mess—split lip, bruised cheek, dried blood crusting near his temple.

Good.

Lucky gestures lazily. “Meet Lev Pochinok. He’s the hired thug working for Anatoly who stole from us. Lev, meet my brother. He’s been dying to talk to you.”

I step closer, watching Lev’s body tremble under my gaze. I take a slow breath, savoring the silence before I speak again. “You’ve been good at pretending so far. But the truth is a lot messier than your bullshit answers.”

I circle him slowly, like a wolf testing the weakness of its prey. Lev’s eyes track my movements, his muscles straining against the meat hook as his chest rises and falls in short bursts.

I can see it now—the fear. The realization that his bravado isn’t going to get him anywhere.

“Lucky,” I call over my shoulder, “you bring anything useful with you?”

Lucky smirks, tossing me a length of thick chain. I catch it with one hand, the cool metal heavy in my palm. “You might need it for this one,” he says, settling back against the crates to watch.

I step forward again, the chain now loosely draped over my shoulder. Lev’s eyes dart between the chain and me, and I see his pulse quicken.

“You’re wasting time,” I murmur, my voice low and commanding. “You’ve already had a taste of what I can do. But there’s so much more.”

I step behind him, my hands moving to adjust the chain, letting it slide over his skin just enough to tease, to remind him of the sting that’s coming.

“What do you want from me?” Lev finally spits out, his voice trembling.

I smile. “I’m glad you asked.”

The chain swings in my hand, and I bring it down with a sharp crack against his back. Lev lets out a yelp, his body jerking, but I don’t give him a chance to recover.

“You’re going to tell me exactly who sent you after those documents,” I growl, stepping closer to his ear. “If you don’t, I’m going to make sure you never forget this moment. Every breath you take will remind you of me.”

He swallows hard, the skin on his neck taut as I watch him struggle. The tension in the room builds, thick with unspoken words. The chain drops again, this time slapping across his ribs. The hit lands with precision, and I watch as Lev gasps in pain.

His resolve cracks. I can see it in his eyes. His body quivers under the pressure, and his voice breaks as he finally speaks.

“Anatoly sent me!” he shouts, his words coming out in a rush. “Volkov wanted intel. On your security firm. They planned to dismantle it from the inside out. Get to your weaknesses. All I had to do was deliver the documents.”

“How many? Who’s behind it?”

Lev hesitates for a moment, and I take a step forward, making the chain rattle against his skin. “Answer me,” I order, my voice sharp.

He crumbles. “I don’t know the names. I was just supposed to get you to trust me long enough to hand over the files, then Volkov’s men would take care of the rest.”

A cold smile curls at my lips. This just got a whole lot more complicated. But at least now I have the thread I need to unravel it.

I nod to Lucky, who’s been silently watching the whole exchange. “Tie him up. Let’s get him somewhere more comfortable for the rest of the night.”

I nod to one of my enforcers, a big guy named Asher, who’s been waiting for this moment. He steps forward, his boots heavy against the concrete floor, and with one swift motion, he lifts Lev’s leg.

Lev’s eyes widen in terror. “Wait! No—please!” His voice cracks, desperate.

Asher’s arm comes down with brutal precision, the sound of bone breaking like a sickening snap through the room. Lev’s scream fills the warehouse, the kind of guttural sound that makes even the most hardened men flinch. But I don’t. I just watch him, cold and unwavering.

“Shut him up,” I mutter, and one of the others quickly presses a rag into Lev’s mouth.

I circle him again, my hand resting casually on my belt as I consider my next move. Lev’s breathing is ragged, his body twitching, and his eyes are wide with panic.

“You’re gonna tell me everything, Lev. And I’m gonna keep asking until I get what I need.”

Lucky steps up behind me, a grim look on his face. “Rory,” he says, voice low but sure, “We’ve got intel on his family.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lucky pulls out a tablet, scrolling through a few images, then showing me a live feed of a park. Lev’s eyes flick over to the screen, his expression one of pure dread as he recognizes the faces in the footage.

“Lev, we’ve got your brother Niko and his little girl, Darya, right here. They're at a park, aren’t they?”

Lev’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, the rag muffling his pleading.

“No,” he whimpers, his voice barely a whisper. “Please don’t?—”

“You’re in no position to beg,” Lucky says, his tone even, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “You’ve got two choices. You work for us. You get us what we need, and your brother and niece walk away, free and clear. You make the wrong choice, Lev, and I promise you—your family’s gone.”

I see the fear flood Lev’s face, his eyes darting to the men around him. He knows we’re not bluffing.

“I’ll get you the intel,” he finally gasps, his voice cracking as he gives in. “I’ll find out everything. Just don’t hurt them. Please.”

Lucky gives a curt nod. “Good choice.” He motions to Asher, who steps back, leaving Lev writhing in pain, but at least he’s breathing. For now.

I turn to leave, my footsteps echoing through the cold warehouse. Before I get too far, I pause, looking back at Lev one last time.

“If you cross us, Lev,” I say softly, “I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your brother’s head. Do I make myself clear?”

Lev’s gaze flicks to me, the terror still thick in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he understands.

The man’s breathing is frantic now, his entire body shaking as the weight of what he’s agreed to sinks in. His eyes lock on mine, desperation seeping through every word.

“Please,” he begs, his voice cracking. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt Darya. She’s just a child. She’s innocent. She has nothing to do with this.”

His words are almost pathetic in their pleading, but I don’t show him an ounce of mercy. I don’t have the luxury of weakness.

“You’ve put me in a position where I have to make choices, Lev,” I say, my voice cold and even. “But you’ve made the right one for now. You get us the intel. You keep your head down, and maybe we’ll let your niece live the rest of her life.”

I give a single nod to Lucky, who steps forward with a small knife in his hand, the edge glinting under the fluorescent lights. Lev’s eyes go wide, his body instinctively trying to pull back, but he’s too weak to fight. He can barely move with his leg broken, his body battered and bound.

“Let him go,” Lucky says, his voice calm, almost too calm. He grabs Lev’s pinky with a practiced hand, holding it firmly.

Lev’s eyes are wide with horror as he realizes what’s about to happen. “No! No, please! I’ll do anything but?—”

The knife cuts through the air before he can finish, and the sound of it slicing through flesh is followed by Lev’s scream of agony. His pinky falls to the floor with a sickening thud, the blood pouring freely from the stump.

Lucky doesn’t even flinch. He watches Lev’s face contort in pain before stepping back.

“You’ll have two days, Lev,” Lucky says, his voice low and final. “Two days to get us what we need. Don’t make us come back here to remind you why we don’t play games.”

Lev cradles his hand to his chest, tears streaming down his face. “I won’t. I won’t forget. Please… no more.”

“Good,” I say, turning on my heel. “If you do, next time, we won’t be so lenient. Remember that.”

The door to the warehouse creaks open, and I glance over my shoulder to see Liam entering the room, his usual confident stride replaced with an edge I haven’t seen in a while. He scans the room quickly, his gaze briefly resting on Lev before locking onto me.

“What’s going on here?” Liam asks, voice tight with something I can’t place.

I don’t even try to hide my annoyance. “Where the hell have you been, Liam?” I ask, the words cutting through the air. “You’ve been absent for weeks. And now I need you to keep an eye on Lev here, and you're just showing up now?”

Liam’s jaw tightens at the sharpness in my voice, but his gaze is steady. He doesn’t flinch. “I’ve been busy,” he mutters, his tone flat.

“Well, you'd better clear your schedule. You’re on babysitting duty. Our friend Lev here needs a minder, and you picked the short straw.”

He glares at me for a moment, his eyes filled with a flicker of anger. “I’m not babysitting Lev. Especially not on Russian turf.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “Russian turf? What the hell are you talking about?”

Liam’s body language shifts, his eyes darkening, and for the first time, I see him hesitate. His posture is stiff, tense. “You heard me. I’m not stepping foot in Russian territory. Now or ever again.”

“What happened?” I ask, my voice quieter but no less demanding. “Why the hell would you refuse? You’re a damn enforcer, Liam. This isn’t like you.”

Liam’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns sharply, a finality in his movements, his eyes avoiding mine. “I’m not going,” he mutters, then walks out of the warehouse without another word.