Page 41 of Twisted Pact

I took her virginity and didn’t even know it.

The thought keeps circling through my head while I stand in my study and stare at nothing. Three weeks ago, I fucked Mila Andreeva in that safe house. Rough. Fast. Like she was just another woman who knew what she was doing.

Except she didn’t know what she was doing.

She’d never been touched before that night. Never had a man inside her. And I just took what I wanted without asking any questions.

“Fuck.”

I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and down it in one gulp. The burn does nothing to ease the guilt crawling through my system.

I replay that night in my head for the hundredth time since she walked out of my office. The way she responded to my touch. How tight she was. The small gasp she made when I first pushedinside her. I thought it was just arousal; I thought she was enjoying herself.

Now, I realize it was probably pain.

Christ.

I pour another drink and try to focus on the rescue operation. Boris sent updated intelligence on the Novikov compound where they’re holding Irina. Three guards on rotation. Multiple exit points. Standard kidnapping setup designed to extract maximum concessions before releasing hostages.

Except that these hostages include a newborn. Which means time is critical.

The intelligence report shows guard patterns, shift changes, and weak points in their security. The Novikovs got sloppy. Probably because they think Leonid doesn’t have the resources to mount a rescue. They’re not expecting us to get involved.

That’s their first mistake.

I study the compound layout again. In the east wing on the second floor are two rooms connected by a shared bathroom. Irina and the baby are likely in the larger room with a guard posted outside. The other room is probably empty, but could be used for additional security if they suspect trouble.

My phone goes off with a message from Dmitri.

On my way. Need to discuss resource allocation.

Perfect. All I need right now is my brother questioning my decisions while I’m planning a rescue operation and dealing with the fact that I’m an asshole who took advantage of an innocent woman.

I down the second whiskey and set the glass on my desk before I pull up the compound schematics Boris compiled and study the security patterns for the third time tonight. Plan entry and exit routes. Focus on anything except the look on Mila’s face when I said she was just like every other Bratva woman.

The shame of that moment eats at me. The cruelty. The assumption that she was experienced enough to handle my bullshit. The way I walked away without looking back.

She had been a virgin, and I’ve been treating her like a goddamn whore, using her body for favors. I made her get on her knees and mocked her for it afterward.

What kind of man does that?

The answer is obvious. The same kind of man who breaks fingers for late payments and orders executions over territory disputes. The same kind of man who’s spent his life learning to be ruthless and calculating.

I don’t want to be that man with Mila. I never wanted to be that man with her, even if I don’t understand why.

Dmitri arrives twenty minutes later, walks into my study without knocking, and takes the seat across from my desk like he owns the place.

“Tell me why we’re risking five men and significant resources to rescue Leonid Andreev’s other daughter,” he demands without bothering with pleasantries.

I shrug and offer, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do we base operational decisions on morality?”

“Since the Novikovs escalated their territory grab by kidnapping civilians. They know we’re considering an alliance with Leonid. If we don’t respond, it signals weakness.”

“Bullshit.” Dmitri leans back in his chair and props one ankle over the opposite knee. “This isn’t about territory or signals. This is about Mila.”

“Mila’s sister is being held hostage. Of course, it’s about Mila.”