Page 18 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Cassie

The next morning, I was back in my apartment, the familiar walls closing in around me. Gennady had offered to send a car, but I shot that down. I needed space, time to process the whirlwind of last night. To face a world that felt the same but wasn't.

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection.

Same old Cassie, the kindergarten teacher with a quiet life.

But I wasn't her anymore, not really. Last night's choice—to accept Gennady, his blood, his danger—had changed everything.

I'd betrayed my father's memory. My principles.

And yet, regret wouldn't come. My heart wouldn't let it.

Life went back to normal, or at least it pretended to.

But everything was different now, like a filter had been slapped over my world.

Gennady started texting me every morning—not his usual flirty, suggestive stuff, but sweet, simple things.

A picture of a rose blooming in his estate's garden.

A doodle of a bunny from Anya. Sometimes just a quick Miss you.

Those messages lit me up, made me feel warm and guilty all at once. I couldn't stop the stupid smile spreading across my face every time my phone buzzed.

"Cassie, you're glowing lately," Jennifer said, eyeing me in the break room at school, her curiosity practically sparkling. "Spill. What's the deal?"

I stirred my coffee, trying to keep my voice steady. "Nothing special."

"Oh, come on," she said, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I've known you forever, and I've never seen you like this. You're in love, aren't you? Tell me about this guy!"

What was Gennady like? He could make me forget the world in his arms, gentle as a summer breeze. He could also kill a man in a heartbeat, cold as ice.

"Maybe," I said, hesitating. "I mean, he's good."

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Good? That's it? Is he hot? Loaded? Treats you right?"

My Gennady. Handsome as sin, with those green eyes that stole my breath every time they locked on me. Rich enough to own a sprawling estate with a small army of staff. And most importantly, he'd kill for me. Literally.

"He's… all of those," I mumbled, my cheeks heating up.

Jennifer studied me, then sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder like she was about to give me the talk. "Look, Cassie, I'm serious. You're new to this love thing, and you're way too soft. Don't fall for some guy's sweet talk without thinking. If anything feels off, you tell me, got it?"

Her concern warmed me, but there were things I could never tell her. Not about Gennady. Not about his world. I gave her a weak nod, guilt gnawing at me.

I thought my life would settle into this strange new normal, but a few days later, things started feeling…

off. It started Tuesday after work. I was leaving school, heading for the bus stop, when I caught a glimpse of a black sedan parked at the corner.

Tinted windows, impossible to see inside.

But I felt eyes on me. When I turned to look, it peeled away.

Just a coincidence, I told myself, brushing it off.

But on Wednesday, it was there again. Same spot, same car. My stomach twisted. Someone was watching me.

By Thursday, it wasn't just the car. There was a guy in a baseball cap at the coffee shop, always sitting where he could see me.

A woman at the subway station, her eyes flicking my way too often.

Strange faces loitering near my apartment, pretending to check their phones or wait for someone. Their attention was on me. I knew it.

Fear hit me like a bucket of ice water, soaking through every nerve. I thought of the shootout in the parking garage, Gennady's words echoing in my head: "People who want to hurt me, my family." Had his enemies turned their sights on me?

That night, I lay in bed, every creak and rustle making my heart race.

The wind outside sounded like footsteps.

A noise in the hallway felt like someone picking my lock.

I clutched my phone, Gennady's number glowing on the screen, but I couldn't bring myself to call.

I didn't want to be a burden, to prove I was weak.

Most of all, I was terrified that calling him would mean admitting I was already too deep in his world to ever get out.

Finally, I set the phone down and went to the kitchen. I mixed up a bottle of pepper spray and tucked it in my bag. Whatever was going on with that car, I wasn't going down without a fight.

Friday night, I stayed late at school, prepping for the parent-teacher conference. By the time I left, the campus was empty, the sky pitch-black. The streets were quiet, streetlights casting dim, jagged shadows. Everything felt eerie, wrong.

I walked fast, texting Gennady to calm my nerves.

Me: Stuck at work late again, so freaking tired. This week's workload is killing me!

My fingers flew across the screen, trying to ground myself in normalcy. I wanted to tell him about Anya's adorable bunny drawing from class, and ask if he was free for dinner tomorrow. Anything to push back the creeping dread.

Then I saw it—a shadow moving in the corner of my eye. The black sedan slid to a stop right beside me.

Time froze. My heart stopped, my blood turning to ice. Every instinct screamed one word: Danger.

My phone slipped from my hand, smashing onto the pavement, the screen splintering into a web of cracks. The car doors flew open, and two huge figures lunged out, black masks covering their faces, eyes cold and merciless.

"No—!" My scream tore through the empty street, weak and useless. I turned to run, but a rough hand clamped onto my arm, yanking me back with bruising force.

"Quiet, sweetheart," one of them growled in my ear, his voice like gravel. "We're not gonna hurt you. Just need you to come with us."

Come with us? Those words froze my soul. Kidnapping. Ransom. Or worse.

"Let me go!" I thrashed, my nails raking across his arm, drawing blood. "Help! Somebody—!"

A hand slammed over my mouth, cutting off my air. I was dragged toward the car, panic shredding my thoughts. I can't let them take me. I can't.

It was the only clear thought in my head. I fumbled in my bag, grabbed the pepper spray, and sprayed it backward, aiming blindly for his face based on the height of his grip.

"Fuck!" he roared, stumbling back, his hold loosening. I screamed again, "Help! Someone's trying to—!"

The other guy was faster, grabbing my hair and yanking hard. Pain exploded in my scalp, black spots dancing in my vision. But fear and survival instinct kept me fighting. I can't die here. I have my mom to take care of. My music dreams. I haven't told Gennady I love him.

A car engine roared in the distance. The men tensed, their movements turning frantic.

"Move it!" one snapped.

I seized the chance, sinking my teeth into the hand over my mouth. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and warm. He cursed, letting go.

"Bitch!"

I broke free and sprinted toward the commercial strip, the sound of footsteps pounding behind me.

The closer I got to the crowds, the fainter the steps became, swallowed by the noise of people.

I didn't dare look back. Adrenaline pushed me faster than I'd ever run, my heart slamming against my ribs like it might burst.

I stumbled into my apartment building's lobby, gasping, my legs shaking. But when I reached my door, I froze. My hand trembled, the keys rattling.

There were scratches on the paint. Dents in the doorframe, like someone had tried to pry it open.

They'd been here! They knew where I lived!

Terror crashed over me again. My home, my safe haven, was tainted. I couldn't go inside, couldn't stay. I stumbled to the stairwell, curling up in a dark corner, my hands shaking as I dug out my spare phone. Gennady's number was burned into my memory.

The phone barely rang once before he answered.

"Cassie?" His voice was sharp, laced with a panic I'd never heard from him.

"Gennady…" His voice alone loosened the knot in my chest, just a little.

"You okay?"

"Gennady," I choked out, my voice breaking, "someone tried to kidnap me. My door's been tampered with. I can't go home."

The line went dead silent, but it was a heavy, dangerous quiet, like the calm before a storm.

"Where are you?" His voice was eerily calm now, but I could hear the rage simmering beneath.

"In the stairwell of my building."

"Don't move. Don't go anywhere." His tone was commanding, impossible to disobey. "I'm coming for you. Ten minutes, Pозочка. Hold on for ten."

The call ended, but his voice lingered, anchoring me.

I huddled in the cold stairwell, hugging my knees, trying to make myself small, invisible. Every sound—a creak, a footstep—sent my heart racing, certain the kidnappers had found me.

Seven minutes later, I heard engines. Not one car, but a convoy. Through the stairwell's tiny window, I saw at least four black sedans pull up, shadows moving in the dark—his men.

Gennady burst into the stairwell, and I nearly sobbed with relief. He was still in his dark suit, tie loose, hair messy, his green eyes blazing with a fury I'd never seen. Two towering bodyguards flanked him, scanning every corner like hawks.

"Cassie." His voice softened when he saw me, but his eyes stayed hard, deadly.

I threw myself into his arms, clinging to his waist, tears streaming down my face. His embrace was solid, safe, like a wall between me and the world.

"You're okay," he murmured, stroking my hair. "I'm here now."

But I felt the tension in his body, the barely restrained anger. It wasn't aimed at me—it was for the bastards who'd dared to come after me.

He held me tight, then turned to his men, his voice low and authoritative. "Lock down every exit in this building. Nothing gets in or out. Get the cleaners to sweep Cassie's apartment, top to bottom. Anything suspicious, I want it gone."

"Yes, sir," one of them replied.