ENG Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4) by London Miller

Contents Title Page Copyright Also By... HM Playlist Dedication Blank Page Only until this cigarette is ended Part 1 Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

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12 13 14 15 PART 2 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

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PART 3 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 Part 4 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

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Epilogue Acknowledgement

HIDDEN MONSTERS LONDON MILLER

Hidden Monsters Copyright © 2015 London Miller All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. Cover Image Copyright Valeri Potapova Used under license from shutterstock.com

Other Titles by London Miller Volkov Bratva Series In the Beginning Until the End The Final Hour Time Stood Still Valon: What Once Was

Hidden Monsters Playlist 1. Tove Lo - Talking Body 2. Imagine Dragons - Warriors 3. Hozier - Work Song 4. Hozier - Arsonist’s Lullabye 5. Banks - Waiting Game 6. Sam Smith - How Will I know 7. Ed Sheeran - Give me Love 8. Ed Sheeran - The a Team

To H, You know why…

Only until this cigarette is ended, A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes fall, And in the firelight to a lance extended, Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended, The broken shadow dances on the wall, I will permit my memory to recall The vision of you, by all my dreams attended. And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done. Yours is a face of which I can forget The color and the features, every one,

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The words not ever, and the smiles not yet; But in your day this moment is the sun Upon a hill, after the sun has set. “Only until this cigarette is ended” -Edna St. Vincent Millay Second April, 1921

PART ONE

And it hurts that I can’t be What everyone wants Or what anyone needs -a.d.r.

Prologue __________ 7 months ago… Outside the dive bar in the heart of Brooklyn, three men stared down at the mutilated body that was no more than a shell of the person it had once been. The man’s tongue had been cut out and each of his fingers was gone just below the second knuckle, but these injuries were nothing compared to the state of the man’s back. There were long gouges cut so deep and ragged that if one were to look at it for what it might have been, they might have thought it was an animal attack. It was abundantly clear that whoever had taken the

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time to cut him up this way either enjoyed it immensely or hated the man viciously. The Albanian in the well-fitted black suit knew that it was a combination of the two. He almost smiled, proud of the craftsmanship that had gone into cutting up the body. Just from the wounds alone, he could tell that the man had been alive for most of it. With only a cursory glance, he’d been able to discern who had done this—the others could guess—but the reason behind these particular markings was a fact known only to himself. He knew firsthand that each stroke of the knife was a story being told. One born of fury and bloodshed. It had been because of him, after all. More than that, he knew that this particular calling card was that of Valon Ahmeti. Only he possessed this particular skill set and had the patience—and the stomach—to see it through.

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Valon had merely been an orphan when he’d walked into Bastian’s, a former associate of the Organization—and the unfortunate soul to be on the ground at their feet—home years ago, hoping for a kind heart and a place to stay. What he had gotten in return…no one would ever ask for that. Whether he was just fearless, or he was hoping that one day he would die for his sins, Valon had fought in the Pit for weeks on end, honing his skills until he was practically a walking weapon. That was the reason Jetmir had come to him for a job that no one else would have wanted. Well, him and Valon that was… Like his friend, he didn’t scare easily. He still didn’t know why Valon had chosen to walk away from everything they had built, aligning himself with fucking Russians, of all people. The bodies he’d buried that day… The others had wanted to kill him, slowly and painfully, but Jetmir had called

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them off for reasons only he knew. There had been rumors, of course. Rumors that the boy they had taken wasn’t the right target, but because of Valon, no one knew the truth. And now that Jetmir was dead, there was no one left to tell the tale. And with his death, Valon was no longer safe from the rest of the Organization who wanted him dead. “You think it was those fucking Russians?” Tasirov asked from his position just behind the leader of these pack of men. “Trying to send a message?” There was a message here, yes, but not the one they suspected. “One of their associates, actually,” the leader said as he got to his feet, brushing off his suit jacket. “I’m sure you remember Valon Ahmeti.” “That’s who…” The man paled as he looked back to the body, his earlier bravado gone now that he knew the real culprit behind this.

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It was still amazing, the effect Valon’s name had on some of them. “I think it’s time we brought Ahmeti home,” He loved nothing more than gruesome acts performed just because they were beautiful to see. But for what he had planned for Valon…no, that would be epic. “Fatos.” The leader turned as his name was called, looking to one of the men who couldn’t handle the sight of Bastian. “When do we start?” He’d waited a long time to find and go after Valon, even longer for no one to stand in the way of what he had planned. This was going to be special. He would make sure that Valon learned his place once and for all, and before he was through with him… Fatos would make sure there was nothing left.

1 ____ Lost There was an art to faking happiness—carefully concealing truths behind tight smiles, quick glances instead of vacant expressions, and false cheer hidden in crass jokes. It might have been less taxing to just share the pain instead of burying it, but that wasn’t who Aleksandra Volkov was. She carried on dancing even as her feet cracked and bled, smiled when she was disappointed, and found a way to lose herself in anything near when it all became too much.

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It had worked, for far longer than it probably should have all things considered, but like most illusions, it had soon run its course. When the time had come that a smile was no longer enough to fix what was broken, she hadn’t known what to do, not when she was used to solving her own problems. But this problem wouldn’t go away, not when it clung to her in a way only death could. Alex had never thought herself immortal or immune to the effects life had on a person, but there was nothing like watching her own mother die in front of her that made her achingly aware of her own mortality and just how easy it was to lose. But more than that, she learned the price she was willing to pay to protect those she loved. Since that night—a night that no matter how she tried to ignore it, always found a way to plague her—Alex had tried, for her

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brother’s sake, to smile and go through the motions of moving forward, but the days had grown increasingly harder. If not for the fact she spent most of her nights alone, it was growing much harder to hide her pain from everyone else…until she had found something else to ease her through it. She had grown up relatively quickly, especially living overseas and away from her family. She’d more than happily imbibed because, even at that time, she had struggled with loneliness and depression. It was exactly two years ago, she thought, when she’d first taken Valium. It had been a single, solitary night in Paris when she was feeling particularly nostalgic and missed being surrounded by people who loved her—or the closest thing to it— back in New York City. The Volkovs weren’t perfect, and there were days when she questioned whether they truly could stand

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one another, but they were hers and they were all she had. Alex had been out alone on the terrace of the dorm-style apartment she shared with two other girls. The stars were like tiny pinpricks of light in the blanket of deep navy that covered the sky. It was beautiful. It was endless. But it also felt rather empty, much like she did when she wasn’t on stage or at rehearsal. “Why are you sulking?” asked Josephina as she came out with a glass of orange juice in hand, her dinner for the evening. Jospehina was very much like Alex, both American and only sixteen, living like adults in a city full of passion. She was the daughter of a congressman from Georgia and a mother who served on boards and attended charity events whenever possible. Their worlds might not have been totally similar—Alex’s father was a criminal, after

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all—but trying to live up to parents’ expectations was something they both understood. Alex shrugged. She didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling. Only that she wished it would end. Things were different when you were a child and didn’t understand the true nature of the life your family was involved in, but after a few years, it was hard to stay blind. “You’re thinking too much,” she went on. “We’re on break. Why don’t you live a little?” After their show the night before, they had a rare few days off. Normally, Alex would have taken the opportunity to fly home and spend time with Mishca if he were free, but according to the last conversation she’d had with Anya, he was seeing someone—someone who was ignorant to their world. Since the NYC Ballet Gala was only a month or so away, she figured she could wait until then to meet this person.

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The other girls in their company were celebrating off in the apartment, drinking wine and flirting with much older men. Alex wished she were that carefree. “Try this,” Jospehina suggested, pulling out the cigarette holder she always carried. She placed it on the small, wrought iron table between them, popping it open. Inside were a number of cigarettes lined neatly on one side, but on the other were two small zipped packets filled with at least a dozen little yellow pills in one. The other held white ones. Alex knew the girl smoked, most of them did though Alex had only just taken up the habit, but she knew nothing about the pills or what they were. But she couldn’t help her curiosity. Jospehina opened the baggie with the yellow, round-shaped pills with a V stamped on them, shaking out a couple. She dropped

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one into Alex’s palm, placing the other on her tongue. It was gone in a second. “Go on,” she urged. “You’ll be fine.” Alex could have denied her—she more than likely wouldn’t care—but as Alex looked down at the decision in her hand, she desperately wanted to feel better; she wanted to feel more than just like a lost soul. She took it. And again another night. And anytime she felt like shit after that night. It was sporadic for a while, and then it became more frequent once Alex was exposed to a truth she had never imagined. But even then, she was careful, trading them for bottles of hard liquor. A drink here or there was how it began. Innocent, if anyone were to judge, but one had turned into five... and now? She could finish a bottle in only a couple of hours without a second thought. That should have been the worst thing she

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was exposed to, but a single night had changed everything. A night when she’d killed her own mother. Soon enough, even those bottles weren't enough to escape her own memories. Now that alcohol wasn’t doing what she wanted, she needed something more, but she didn’t really know what she wanted. It was for this reason that Alex found herself wandering the streets of Brooklyn in the wee hours of the morning—or late hours of the night—restless, searching for something to take the edge off her frustration. Dimly, she heard her phone chime, a series of staccato beeps that told her it was Mishca doing the calling. As his name continued to dance across the screen, she rejected the call, knowing that it would do her no good to answer in her current state. Despite his rather cool attitude toward everything, he

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worried more than he should, considering the life they’d been given. He was a good brother—she would never say otherwise—but some things he couldn’t fix despite his desire to try. Besides, he had a new wife to think about, not whether his little sister was coping well after killing her mother. Sister. The notion always brought with it a bittersweet pain because, while no one would acknowledge the truth, she was no more his sister than he was her brother. Actually, she had only met her brother on a few occasions. There was a time when Alex had despised Lauren, Mishca’s wife, and all the problems she had brought with her just because of her name alone. When they had been introduced at the gala—it seemed like ages ago now—she had seemed so innocent, a far cry from the kind of women the men of the Bratva were drawn to. Alex had taken an instant liking to her, if only because of the

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sheer happiness she’d seen in Mishca’s face. It was only months later that Lauren had revealed a long kept secret that had proved deadly to a number of people involved. On that day, Alex hadn’t just lost a mother, a birth father she had only known as an uncle all her life, but also the man who had raised her who was now too ashamed even to acknowledge her existence, but she’d also lost a brother because, despite his intentions, she and Mishca had fallen on opposing sides. She knew he had tried to remain neutral for her sake, she believed, but it became rather clear that Mishca would always choose Lauren above all others. A part of her knew that neither she nor Lauren were really at fault because of her mother’s indiscretions, but as it seemed she was the only one suffering because of it, she’d needed to turn her anger somewhere.

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With time, Alex had hardened herself against that, as well, and had learned to ignore it all again. She was genuinely happy when the pair tied the knot, but with their hard-earned happiness came the acknowledgment that she couldn’t confide in Mishca, not the way she wanted, because he would take that pain on himself. Lauren as well. Alex wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to them. Lost in her thoughts, Alex found herself on the corner of Brisbane and Turner, the sound of thumping bass drawing her attention to the warehouse-style building where a dozen or so motorcycles were parked on the street in the front and a few men in black leather cuts hovered nearby. Besides a couple of streetlights illuminating the sidewalk, darkness shrouded the majority of the street.

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In the time that it took Alex to reach the entrance, drawn in by the loud music and the rather obvious dangerous nature of the place, a few women had come stumbling out, all in short skirts and high heels, claiming the attention of the men standing guard over the bikes, giving Alex the opportunity to slip inside. From the street, the warehouse had seemed rather narrow, but upon entry, it was far bigger than what she had imagined. There were at least four pool tables set up on the left side—though it was quite clear that they weren’t actually being used for the games, since one was currently occupied by a couple having sex, and a small but considerable crowd watching and cheering them on. The others seemed reserved for women in next to nothing putting on a show, one nearly toppling off as her foot slipped on the felt. On the other side were a cluster of tables and against the back wall was a rather

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impressive bar, a makeshift dance floor taking up the rest of the space. As a man stumbled past her, his gaze intent on a woman who looked like she was close to passing out, Alex read his vest, and then eyed the patch on his back as he went by. Bikers? She had very little knowledge about the gangs herself, only that Mishca made the occasional business transaction with one, though she couldn’t be sure whether it was this particular one. “Lost?” Blinking, Alex looked at the person who had just joined her, but thanks to the number of peach infused vodka shots she’d taken earlier, it took a moment to focus on him. He was muscular. His powerful arms were on display since the shirt he wore beneath it didn’t have sleeves. They were tan,

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probably from a life in the sun. He only had a few tattoos, all done in black ink—a crest on his left arm and a bull’s skull on the other. His hair was cut close to his scalp, considerably different from what she was used to since most of the men in the Bratva kept their hair long. A rugged jawline, clean of any facial hair, and dark, almost black eyes were staring down at her, waiting for an answer. He was handsome in a rough biker kind of way. When he noticed her perusal of him, his lips kicked up into a grin, revealing rather pleasant looking teeth, his canines capped in gold. Shrugging, Alex answered, “Not lost, no.” He was holding a bottle of beer by the neck, condensation dripping from the brown glass. Bringing it up to his lips, he took a healthy swallow, the muscles in his throat working before he dropped it back down,

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wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand. “I’m Snow.” “Snow?” She had heard worst names. “Alex.” “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, Alex—and considering I know everybody—that begs the question, who the hell are you?” Alex was so used to giving her full name, the only true power she had now that she wasn’t dancing anymore, but standing next to him in a place of iniquity, she rather wanted to keep her anonymity, just in case he knew her brother. “Nobody special,” she replied when she noticed he was still, though patiently, waiting for her to answer. “Do you interrogate all the new people who come in here?” “Maybe, maybe not, but I thought I would keep you company…unless you want me to leave you to the wolves out there.”

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Wolves…how appropriate. “If you want to talk, it’s a little loud in here for that, don’t you think?” His eyes trailed over her face, like he was trying to figure her out, but after a lengthy pause, he merely slung an arm around her shoulders—an act, she thought, to send a message since several pairs of eyes were turned in their direction—leading her away from the noise toward a back hallway where, even with doors shut, the sounds of slapping flesh and sharp moans could be heard. Her heart never sped up when they reached the second to last bedroom at the end of the hall, nor did she bat an eyelash when he walked her inside, closing the door behind them with a firm click. She took in her surroundings: the bed in one corner, a couple of pictures hanging on the walls, and on the rather massive desk was a shiny chrome nine millimeter that

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looked brand new. There was nothing really personal about the space, but Alex didn’t think that this was his home, only an available room where he brought women who he intended to keep for only a night. One part of her, the part that grappled for reason, knew that being here was not a good idea, and that it would probably be for the best if she just left this place entirely. But where would she go? Back to an empty apartment that didn’t really feel like home? Maybe to Mishca’s though he was currently in the midst of taking his wife on a honeymoon? Or maybe, to the lone person she would happily run to, but didn’t want her in return. No, maybe she would stay because as she watched Snow move toward the bed, sitting on the edge, his gaze moving from her bare legs to the rather immodest dip at the front of her dress, she felt a stirring. It might

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have been forbidden or even a little dangerous, but she was willing and ready to chase it if it meant she could feel again. “You—” The door came crashing open before Snow could finish his thought, and if his darkening expression was anything to judge by, he was not happy with the interruption. “What!” The woman, whoever she was, eyed Alex for a second before turning to Snow, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Can you hook me up?” “Get the fuck out.” She shook her head, her hands flying up to ward off an attack as Snow launched to his feet, looking like he intended to physically remove her. “Boone said you owed him.” He cursed, gaze skirting to Alex who was regarding this entire act with cool indifference, before he jerked his head in the

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direction of the bathroom. Once she was inside with him, he pushed the door up, but not far enough that the door closed, making Alex wonder if he’d done it on purpose so that she could see what was happening inside. She only had a limited view, so she missed the majority of what took place inside, but she didn’t miss the small baggie he handed over or that the woman hid it in her cleavage. At the sight of it, her heart kicked up. When they were alone again, after the woman had thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, it was clear Snow had one thing on his mind, but Alex’s attention was seized on what she had seen. “What did you give her?” A curious glint entered his eyes as he shrugged out of his cut, hanging it on the back of the chair. “What’s it to you?” “Merely curious…” “Nah, it’s a little more than that.”

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In answer, she shrugged. “Are you a drug dealer? Is that why they call you Snow?” His expression was unreadable as he said, “You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s just curious.” “Maybe I want to buy from you.” “Yeah? And what exactly do you think I’m selling?” Alex trailed her fingers through her hair, knowing that he was watching the motion. “That’s why I’m asking.” As the silence stretched between them, Alex thought maybe she was changing his mind, at least until he started laughing, which only made her cheeks turn rosy in embarrassment. “You couldn’t handle it.” Now, it was her turn to laugh though she did it without humor. “You have no idea what I can or cannot handle.”

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Whether he believed her or not, he went back into his bathroom and came back out moments later, carrying another one of the baggies that he had passed off to the woman. Inside were five pills, all emblazoned with a small smiley face. With an arm hooked around her waist, he tugged her deeper into him, smiling down at her. “First one is free.” “What is it?” Even as she asked the question, she reached for it, nimble fingers curling around hers as she tried to take it. “Something that’ll take the edge off.” That really wasn’t an answer, but as Alex opened the bag, popping one into her mouth, she didn’t really care. His expression was one of amusement more than anything else, but there was something a bit predatory about it as well, but this, and the rest of the night, was lost on Alex as the pill started kicking in.

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First a tingling in her stomach, then a gradual, but all-consuming warmth filled her, as Snow’s hand closed around the nape of her neck, tilting her face up to smash his lips against her own. That only intensified everything she was feeling. Now, her heart was racing, her hands were trembling, and as he worked the zipper of her dress down, she had never felt more alive.

2 ____ The Enforcer Wiping the blood from his hands with the tail end of the man’s shirt, Luka Sergeyev stepped back, snapping his fingers in front of Donnie Jefferson’s face to regain his attention. He didn’t need the guy passing out before they got to the actual reason Luka had paid him a visit. Sticking the knife he favored back into his pocket, Luka sighed, knowing that he had probably taken it too far with the amount of cuts that were still oozing blood, but there was no other way to guarantee that he got his

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point across. Pain made people more receptive to persuasion. Luka had learned this the hard way, but that was ages ago, back when he was just a boy. Curling his hand around Donnie’s shoulder, he dug his fingers into one of the particularly ugly cuts there, feeling the skin and muscle give as he shoved his finger deeper. The man’s response was immediate and loud. Luka tried not to let that excite him. “Now that I have your attention, you have two options. Tell me where the money is and we can get this finished up now. Maybe I’ll drop you at a hospital—that’s debatable—but at least you’ll get to go home. The second option, you don’t give me the money and I show you how creative I can get over the next two hours. I mean”—Luka gestured to the man though it was doubtful he

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could see himself with the blood leaking in his eyes—“you see what I can do with a knife. Imagine what I’ll do once I’m inspired.” Groaning, Donnie tried replying, the words coming out rushed and jumbled, but with another firm squeeze from Luka, he was able to force them out. “It’s in the safe.” “Good man.” Removing his finger from the newly bleeding wound, Luka circled the chair, placing his hands on the back to wheel the man over to the state-of-the-art safe installed into the wall that not only had a digital lock, but one that also required a retina scan. Donnie was a rather smart businessman. At least when it came to screwing over his clients who signed over their life savings for what they thought he could provide them. The problem was that he was operating on Bratva territory, and when said Bratva protected one of the clients he screwed over, it was Luka’s job to pay him a visit.

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That was what it meant to be a Bratva enforcer. While Luka didn’t always enjoy the carnage he left in his wake, when he had a job like this…he enjoyed it a little too much. For the last half hour—a new record, even for him—he had made intricate carvings in the man’s flesh, always careful not to cut too deep or too quick, just enough that the person on the receiving end felt it everywhere, but not enough that they would pass out anytime soon. Considering the fact that he was duct taped to a chair, Donnie couldn’t open the safe himself. Instead, he gave the combination to Luka, who had it popped open in seconds. There were stacks of bundled money, enough to know that there were undoubtedly hundreds of families out of thousands of dollars. Luka emptied the safe, dumping the money in an old backpack he carried with

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him. He was only meant to take just enough to cover what Donnie had taken from one of his victims, but with the mood he was in, Luka took it all. Finished, he tossed the bag by the door, feeling the man’s eyes on him. Donnie would probably pack up and head out of state where he would set up another operation similar to this one and start all over again, far away from where Luka could get to him. Luka had never liked men like Donnie, and if he were better at controlling himself with the coppery scent of blood embedding itself in his mouth, he might have left. But that wasn’t who Luka was. Not giving it a second thought, Luka pulled the blade from his pocket, walking back over to Donnie who was shaking his head forcefully, pleading behind his gag, but he couldn’t do anything to stop what was about to happen.

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With the swiftness and efficiency of years of practice, Luka cut off the man’s thumbs. His screams were like music, but Luka didn’t stick around to appreciate his handiwork. He made quick work of cutting the man free, his warning left unsaid as he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed out into the brisk autumn night. Retrieving the keys from his pocket, Luka climbed in the Jeep that had seen better days, if only because it needed a good wash to clean off the layers of dirt caking the outside. The cold air didn’t bother him as he headed into the city, toward the club in lower Manhattan that had opened just a few months ago. While it might have been Bratva property, it was mostly kept clean of the work they did because the boss’ wife handled the books and practically ran the place.

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If there was one thing that Luka knew, it was that his boss would never leave this life, but he would at least make sure that none of it fell on his wife. Climbing out of his Jeep, Luka headed toward the back entrance, entering a four-digit code on the keypad next to the door handle. After an incident a couple of years ago, the boss had decided it was better to have a code lock rather than have someone standing guard. Once he was in, Luka walked the length of the hallway until he reached a door, taking the stairs on the other side of it to an office above the floor of the club. As usual, the Pakhan—the boss—Mishca Volkov sat behind a desk of mahogany wood, the office phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, speaking in rapid Russian as he asked for the results from one of his contractors across the city.

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Unlike his predecessor, Mishca was directly involved with all of the new aspects of the job he’d been given not eight months ago. Luka tossed the bag in a corner of the office, plopping down on the sofa as he kicked his feet up on the table, smiling broadly when he saw Mishca’s frown. It was the little things in life. He waited patiently for the boss to finish his call, his eyes drifting around the room until they landed on the one framed picture of two that he never failed to notice when he came in. It was a rather candid photo of the one person who continuously plagued him, the one person who wrapped herself around him despite his desire to get her out of his head. He knew there was no way that he could have her the way he wanted, not when he was the way he was.

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Then, of course, there was the conversation that he and Mishca had had earlier. Him warning Luka away from his sister. He freely admitted there was a darkness inside of him. Some nights, he fed the hunger that could never truly be satisfied. Thrived in the pain he caused others. But when that same bloodlust wore off and he saw the result of what he’d done, he couldn’t stand the sight of himself, let alone what he had done to someone who, while deserving of punishment, hadn’t deserved what he had done. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Hanging up, Mishca dropped the phone back into its cradle, turning in his chair so that he was better able to see him. Unlike his sister, who was blond and had the biggest green eyes Luka had ever seen, Mishca was cold. Dark hair, blue eyes that

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missed nothing, and the stature of a man who was used to getting his way. Now having worked for him for the last five years, Luka admired him, even if he was a pain in the ass. “How’d it go?” “Like you wanted.” Luka gestured to the bag on the floor, not needing to open it. They both knew the money would be inside it or he wouldn’t be there. Neither of them addressed the blood staining his hands at the mention of Donnie. “And Jefferson?” Luka smirked, failing to hide his satisfaction. “Like I wanted.” Mishca shook his head, knowing all too well what that meant. “Breathing?” Shrugging, he answered, “Barely.” “Good enough. The girls are spending the day in the city tomorrow. Keep your phone on.” Though he nodded, Luka did wonder whether Alex would be going with Lauren

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and her friend, Amber. For the last five years, Luka had gotten used to his life in the shadows, completing more of the bloody jobs that others secretly coveted, but over the last couple of months, his role had begun to change. His work shifted from behind-thescenes to more public as he played bodyguard some days. But more than that, he’d started attending meetings with Mishca and not just as the muscle. He had never questioned why, though it was apparent that everyone was wondering the same thing. Luka didn’t do well with people in general, and he had the unfortunate habit of making enemies out of people within five minutes of meeting them, not that he minded. He would much rather be feared than be ridiculed. ____ On the long stretch of road, the thundering roar of his engine cut through the silence of the night, tall grass swaying as he

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sped by. This was not an uncommon occurrence when Luka was driving, music blasting through the speakers. Anyone at the other end of this dirt road could hear him a mile away. Eventually, his headlights illuminated a Victorian-style house in the distance, only a few cars parked alongside it. A fat man by the name of Roger Pedenski was supposed to be standing guard, watching for anyone who drove up, but he was sitting on the top step, fast asleep, oblivious even to Luka’s music. Not even when Luka revved the engine did the man stir, which told Luka one of two things. Either he had partaken in the stash of blue pills they kept around for the clients and had spent the last few hours inside with one of the girls and was now passed out, or the old bastard was dead. He was inclined to believe the first. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Luka took his time walking over to the front

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of the house, peering closer at Roger to make sure that he was, in fact, still breathing. At this point, he hoped Roger wouldn’t wake up, just so he could have the opportunity to teach the man to never let his defenses down, especially considering their work. Instead of taking the steps, he climbed over the side, walking over to the slumbering man. Luka had always been light on his feet, usually undetectable when dealing with someone of the average intelligence. Sighing, Luka couldn’t fight his grin as he lifted his foot and kicked the man down the steps. Roger yelped as he came awake, throwing his arms out to break his fall, but his momentum was too great and he ended up tumbling down each step until he landed in a heap in the dirt. “What the fuck was that?” he snarled, trying to climb to his feet, but his significant weight made it difficult.

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Luka shrugged, walking backward to the house. “Alarm clock, you fat fuck.” When his back was to the door, Luka yanked it open and walked inside, but not before he heard Roger muttering about him being a lunatic. Yes, yes, he was, and he was proud of it. Three floors made up the old Victorian: the basement where they kept nearly every brand of alcohol known to man—though clients were only served the cheap crap—the ground level where clients were introduced to the girls and ultimately made their selections, and the top floor, where the actual servicing took place. There weren’t dozens of rooms in the place, more likely around seven, but since there were only a small number of girls, it worked fine. Sometimes, when they got a new girl, she would sleep in the basement where a cot was set up until a permanent place was found.

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The man Mikhail, the former boss of the Volkov Bratva had left in charge after demoting Luka—not that he was going to be there long since Mishca was in the midst of getting rid of all those who were loyal to the former Pakhan—was an asshole who enjoyed his position a little too much. Sure, they were whores, and this lot chose this as their profession, but that didn’t give him the right to take advantage of them. Sure they chose this, but working for them was entirely different than just working the streets. While they were afforded security only the Bratva could provide, they also knew that they needed to keep the bosses happy because they were expendable. Even Luka wasn’t that bad, and he had done some questionable things over the years. Yuri sat on a sea-green couch, facing a large television that was currently on a football game, and if from the way he was raptly

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watching each play, it was safe to assume he had money on it. Luka didn’t bother giving the man a greeting, taking the stairs two at a time to the next landing. A few of the girls passed him by with pleasant smiles. He spoke, always polite, though most of the men who frequented this place were not. It didn’t matter to him what they chose to do for a living. Who was he to judge? He hurt people for a living. When he reached the last door in the hallway, he didn’t bother knocking, just twisted the knob and walked in. The other girls might have needed to share a room when they weren’t working, but Natasha was one of the highest earners, and because of this, she was given the privilege of having one of the biggest rooms in the house. Unlike other girls who chose this profession, whether by force or as a means to an end, Natasha had chosen this for the money she made.

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Natasha was beautiful, as most of the girls were, but unlike them, she took very good care of herself to the point that if she wanted, she could be more than what she was. Raven black hair fell to the small of her back, complementing smooth pale skin, with a carefully sculpted shape that made her ideal for any man. Her smile was charming and the first time he had ever seen her, he’d been interested. Like others, however, this was all that had drawn him to her. Back then, he had resorted to long nights with a sand-filled bag to work out his aggression and tire himself out until he passed out from exhaustion. It was only after he’d been called to the Victorian house that he had even met her. One client had gotten a bit too rough with one of the girls and he’d been told to take care of it. Though even now, he still wasn’t sure how it happened, but one minute he was trying to

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explain the rules to the man, and the next, he had snapped his neck. No one spoke of that night, though he did wonder how many people knew of what he had done, but Natasha didn’t think anything of what she had seen from the window of her bedroom. In fact, Luka believed that was the only reason she’d come to him. A single night with her was enough for him to know that she could take anything he gave, even if it might have left her bruised. From then on, he saw her every Tuesday like clockwork. It worked for them. They accepted each other. He didn’t treat her like a whore, a tendency that most men in their world treated the girls, and she gave him a reprieve from his frustration. So long as there were no feelings involved, it worked for him. He was always careful. Always trying to make sure she knew that he didn’t want anything more from her

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than her body and on the rare occasion, companionship. “Long day?” she asked sitting back on the bed, stretching her arms out beside her. He shrugged, not answering. While this was a ritual they went through whenever he visited her, he often wondered if she ever got tired of it. Tossing his jacket across an empty chair, he lay back on the bed, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. It wasn’t long before he heard the scrape of her chair as it was pushed back, and she stood, crawling onto the bed, climbing over him. As the adrenaline began to wear off, slowly his thoughts automatically went back to the events of the night, remembering the way the blade had sliced through the man’s skin. Just the memory was enough for him to

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breathe deeply through his nose and back out through his mouth. Her hands drifted over his chest, and he shuddered, wishing he could disconnect his sex drive from the pain he inflicted on others. “How many?” That was another question she asked, one that would help her gauge exactly how much was pent up inside of him. Tonight, however, he didn’t answer. It wasn’t bad as it usually was. Her hands drifted over his shoulders, kneading the muscles along the way, her lips to his ear. As much as he could, he relaxed under her touch, though he didn’t let his guard down completely. He didn’t trust her enough for that. For just a few moments, he let his mind wander, thinking of things that were better left forgotten, and a time in his life when moments like these were stolen,

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knowing that others wanted him ruined, but while he had it—even if it wasn’t with the person he necessarily wanted—he would accept it. Rolling them, he flipped her onto her back, crawling over her body, pulling at the lacy bra she wore. Natasha was smiling, encouraging him, but as quickly as that registered with him, he turned her over again, bringing her up to her knees. Even as he spent hours in that bed with her, he still couldn’t work out the tension curled inside of him.

3 ____ Bad Decisions Though she had taken to drinking her nights away these past few months, partying in more than half of the clubs in Manhattan, it had been a while since Alex woke up with a hazy memory of the night before and a headache from hell. Pushing herself up to a sitting position—though it brought with it a fresh level of pain—Alex rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear her blurry vision. Feeling movement to her right, she blinked, squinting, then blinked again, not believing what she was seeing.

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A guy was asleep beside her on his stomach, his face turned in the opposite direction from her, but he looked vaguely familiar. If not for her skull feeling like it was splitting open, she might have tried harder to remember who he was. He wasn’t a particularly unwelcome sight, but considering there were two other girls sprawled out at the foot of the bed, she felt like she was going to be sick. Gingerly, she climbed out of the bed, stumbling her way into the bathroom and grabbing her clutch along the way. Closing and locking the door behind her, she went over to the mirror, resting her hands on the edge of the porcelain sink. Awful was the only way to describe how she looked. Her skirt was skewed, top half unbuttoned, her hair in disarray with dark circles around her eyes, not to mention the day-old makeup, and Alex hardly recognized

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herself. Which was starting to become familiar Digging for her phone, she tapped a button on the keypad to light up the screen, cursing when she saw the time. She was supposed to be meeting up with Lauren to hang out—her new sister-in-law had a thing for bonding—and if she didn’t show, Lauren would undoubtedly go to Mishca, and she really wasn’t in the mood for all those questions. Alex was contemplating her next move when her phone rang, a name that made her heart skip a beat when she saw it appear on the screen. Luka. Luka Sergeyev. Her brother’s new right hand, an enforcer in the Volkov Bratva, and the bane of her existence…and some days, when she allowed herself to think of the possibilities, he felt like so much more.

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For a while, it had felt like a crush, then it felt like something more, something indescribable, something that Luka seemed to return for a short time, at least until Natasha seemed to become a permanent fixture in his life. Some days there was friendship, other days she felt a draw that made it nearly impossible to stay away from him. Now, she didn’t know what was going on between them. Though she didn’t want to answer, she felt helpless not to. …But that was before. Before everything in her life had turned upside down “Yeah?” “Yo.” That was his standard greeting to everyone. “Where are you?” Alex looked around, trying to rack her brain for a response, but she didn’t really remember where she was, but she couldn’t tell

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him that. She needed to stall. “Is there a reason why you’re asking?” “Family bonding. I have to pick you and the best friend up. Ready?” Pressing the phone to her shoulder to muffle any noise she made, Alex grabbed her shoes and clutch, heading back out the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of getting there on my own.” The easygoing quality to his voice was slowly bleeding away. “True, but you can either give me an address or I’ll track your phone. Lady’s choice.” “Fine, I’ll call you in five minutes.” She hung up before he could respond, slipping out of the bedroom, heading toward the front where she could see the bar. There were bodies everywhere, in varying stages of undress. To even make it to the door, she had to step over a rather large man who was completely naked, a woman who was less than half his size draped across him.

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When she was out on the street, she glanced up at the street sign at the corner, quickly texting Luka an address before he did follow through on his threat. “Where you going?” Alex jolted, glancing back over her shoulder to where her former bedmate was jogging after her, tugging his shirt on along the way. Though it was unlikely that Luka would be pulling up anytime soon, she still looked back, checking for any sign of that black Mercedes. “I have things to do,” she said. “At least give me your number,” he went on, not bothered in the slightest that she no longer seemed interested. “This doesn’t have to be the only time we see each other.” That was true, but Alex wasn’t sure if she did want to see him again, especially with her memory still foggy from the night before, but as quickly as that thought had

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formed, the familiar temptation of doing something wrong filled her…not to mention that whatever he had given her was surprisingly strong. Not thinking anything of it, she rattled off her number, her fingers tightening around her own phone as it started vibrating in her hand. “Where are you walking to? I can give you ride back.” Forcing a smile, Alex shook her head. “No thanks. I have a friend already coming.” He eventually relented—though he’d hardly put up much of a protest—heading back into his compound, and Alex continued on, hurrying across the street, just as an Army green Jeep Wrangler, mostly covered in mud, screeched to a stop beside her. She had only spared it a glance, not thinking much of it, but did a double-take when she saw who was inside it.

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The one person who annoyed her the most in the world. The one person who could get under her skin without effort. Luka had long blond hair that curled to just above his shoulders. With a regal nose and lips that were normally turned up into a smile, he had to be the most attractive guy Alex knew. Not to mention the blue eyes that made him look even more innocent. But for all his attractiveness, there was a darkness that radiated out of him. She might not have believed it had she not known him so well—no one with a face like that should have been capable of the things she knew he could do with a knife—but after seeing him covered in blood—for her, she always reminded herself—casually smoking a cigarette, she knew that beneath the crude humor and out-of-place jokes, there was something not completely right with him.

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In one fluid move, he put the gear in park, climbing out and coming around to her side. He always seemed to be moving slow, calculated, as if he was conscious of everything happening around him. His eyes did a sweep over her as he yanked open the door, and from the way his mouth twitched, more of a frown than a smile, he wasn’t happy with what he saw. “You look like shit.” Trust him to be brutally honest with her. Luka was brutally honest to a fault, and normally, she liked him that way. Knowing that he rarely hid anything from her was rather nice since most of the men who worked under Mishca kept her in the dark about most things. But now, while she felt like she’d been run over by a car, Alex really wasn’t in the mood for it. “I didn’t ask for a ride or a lecture,” she mumbled, grabbing hold of the top of his truck to climb in.

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If she weren’t suffering from a hangover, she might have commented on his truck. Since he was usually driving Mishca around, she’d never given much thought to the kind of car Luka drove. While most of the men in his position drove sleek sports cars, it seemed almost fitting that Luka would drive something as rugged as a Jeep Wrangler. She closed her eyes as he started the Jeep, her stomach churning as they started moving. The entire way to her apartment, Alex concentrated on not throwing up what little there was in her stomach. He was quiet, though this wasn’t much of a surprise since he rarely made idle conversation. With Luka’s driving, they arrived in record time, heading up the elevator in silence. There was really no need for him to follow her up—not that she was complaining—though it might have taken very careful steps.

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Digging the keys out of her clutch, she nearly dropped them when Luka’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing over hers when she’d made a grab for them as he took them, opening the door. He trailed her inside, and while she didn’t want to notice, it was hard not to be aware of his presence behind her. Even when he wasn’t trying to overwhelm her, it was just who he was. “I need to use your shower.” Alex didn’t have to point him in the direction of the spare bedroom. He’d been in this apartment more times than she could count. Without looking at her, and shouldering the bookbag he’d gotten out of the back of his Jeep, he left her alone without another word. Though she didn’t have much time, Alex went into her own room, taking a shower to wash the night away. After taking

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a couple Advil—not to mention the steam of the hot water—she felt moderately better. Inside her closet, there were racks and rows of dresses, hung on special silk hangers that she’d found in a specialty boutique. There wasn’t much Alex had that she loved beside the people in her life, but her clothes were one of them. In her travels—and thanks to a rather over-indulgent mother when it came to pretty things, though it had been more about appearance than anything else which took up a wall of its own—she had a varied collection of designer dresses. This, however, had nothing on her shoe collection. Choosing a powder blue one made of chiffon with darker panels that helped conceal her chest, Alex reached for her favorite pair of nude Louboutin heels. To some, heels were a pain, especially on the streets of New York, but if there was one thing Anya instilled in her, it was the idea that one needed to always look their best.

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Dressed, Alex went back into the bathroom, wiping her hand along the mirror to clear away some of the moisture. She didn’t stare for long before starting to apply her makeup. Now that she looked moderately human, she didn’t fear what she looked like anymore, but it was hard, always seeing the face of someone everyone hated. By the time she finished—foundation, concealer, blush, and all the works—and was back out in the living room, Luka was just coming out, clad in a pair of black jeans and boots, a t-shirt thrown over his shoulder as he rubbed a towel through his curling hair. She didn’t want to, even mentally advised herself not to do it, but it was almost physically impossible not to drink him in. He was toned and had the lean trim of a runner, but the majority of this was hidden beneath the colorful tattoos that covered him. Some significantly represented the

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Bratva, particularly the snarling tiger head in the very center of his chest. She’d seen others with similar artwork, men who just liked the design, but in the circles they ran in, it was a warning as much as it was a promise. Her gaze drifted from the tiger to the various images over the ridges of his stomach to the indentations at his waist. He really was very nice to look at… “Where were you coming from?” he asked as he tossed the towel on the couch and yanked on his shirt. Before, she might have answered his question with a snarky response, but at the moment, Alex wasn’t in the mood to fight with him. “Nowhere in particular.” Alex had looked away when she said this and didn’t notice when he crossed to her side and grabbed her arm. Despite the obvious strength he possessed, he was gentle with her. He always had been.

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Before he could say anything, she reached for his hand, intending to pull it away, but at the moment of contact, she just left it there. The back of his hand was soft, but his palm and fingers were calloused and she could only imagine from what. “It was just a party,” she finally confessed though she couldn’t be sure why she was telling him at all. There was no reason to, not when there wasn’t anything happening between them. No matter what she felt. “I don’t want you doing anything reckless,” he said, eyes surprisingly serious. “You have a problem, come to me and we’ll figure that shit out.” That was what she had always liked about Luka, how easy it was being around him when the tension wasn’t there, when they were just in the same space without the outside world intruding. Times like this, she

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could be herself without fear of judgment—because he wasn’t trying to change her. She didn’t need to be perfect around him even if she strived to be. But the moment was broken as his phone blared to life and when he turned his head in its direction, his hair moved, and she could see the angry red splotch on his neck. How she hadn’t noticed it up until this moment, she didn’t know, but now that she had, it felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on her head. “How’s Natasha doing?” Hearing her tone, he looked back at her, briefly forgetting about his phone. “What?” She poked at the mark on his neck, wondering if her doing that hurt him nearly as much as seeing it hurt her. “How much does that run nowadays? Or is she free because you’re her boss?” “Alex, don’t start that shit.”

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“What shit? I’m just curious. No wonder you needed a shower. I can’t imagine trying to—” His eyes narrowed, promising pain if she finished that statement, but if there was one thing she knew, Luka would never physically hurt her. If he hadn’t by now, he wouldn’t. Emotionally? Well, he was doing a bang-up job of that. “Has she ever had to rush through it? Maybe another client was just dying to get at her before your dick even got soft?” The phone was completely forgotten as Luka turned back fully to face her, and if she had to guess, he was only getting angrier. Except, she didn’t care. When she got started, she didn’t, couldn’t stop. “Alex, enough.” Raising a brow, she smiled sweetly. “Or?”

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A muscle ticked beneath his eye as he glared at her. “We have to do this shit every time I see you?” “If I recall, you asked to pick me up, not the other way around. For all I cared, you could have stayed with the neighborhood’s friendly whore.” That was the thing with Luka, he argued back, at least when it was just the pair of them and as long as it was light-hearted, he bantered with her when others were around—even Mishca. If she wasn’t the one to end it, then it could go on for more than an hour, once for days. There was just no point in arguing with him about where he liked to stick his dick. Especially if he was just going to keep doing it. It could fall off for all she cared at the moment. “If we’re done, we should get going. There are people I actually want to see today.”

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Luka mumbled something beneath his breath but walked ahead of her, nearly pulling the door off its hinges as he yanked it open. Donning her sunglasses because her eyes were still bloodshot, Alex followed behind him, choosing to ignore the look he was sending her as they boarded the elevator and headed down. The ride over to Amber’s was short and uneventful, the pounding in Alex’s skull finally dwindling to nothing. Alex waved to Amber as she climbed into the Jeep, still ignoring Luka’s presence entirely. She returned to her phone, could practically feel Luka’s gaze on her, but she was very good at pretending, and he was only making it easier for her. Amber cleared her throat, probably feeling the tension between them, especially with Luka’s reckless driving and the way he mumbled every few seconds.

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By the time they reached the older building, parking alongside the sidewalk and Luka feeding the meter after he’d climbed out, it was clear for anyone to see that there was a problem, but Alex wouldn’t be the one to break it, not this time. If Luka thought he was stubborn, then he obviously must have forgotten who he was dealing with. Inside the penthouse, Alex made herself at home, as she always did when she came over, but this time it was more of an excuse to avoid Luka for a little while longer until they were leaving. She checked her appearance in the bathroom, hunted through the refrigerator for a bottle of water that was usually stored there, and even busied herself on her phone before returning to the living room and taking a seat next to Luka, making sure there was a good amount of space between them. It was not too long later that Lauren exited her bedroom, her gaze going over the

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three of them until her smile faltered a bit. “Everything okay?” Alex liked to think of her brother’s new wife as the peacemaker between all of them. She wanted everyone to get along, and if there was a problem, she found a way to fix it. Most of her efforts were put toward mending the relationship between Mishca and Klaus—the twin no one had known existed until about a year ago. It was almost fitting how someone as dark as Mishca appeared to end up with someone like her. While he had dark hair and blue eyes, she was tan, with brown hair with highlights from the sun, and hazel eyes that seemed to miss nothing. In all, Lauren was the nice counterpart to Mishca’s seriousness. Alex, glad that she was still wearing her sunglasses, looked up and nodded, forcing a smile before turning back to her phone, watching the dial spin as she played a trivia game that she was currently mastering.

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Luka, ever the cheerful one, looked ready to commit violence as he shoved a hand through his hair, his body tight with tension as he glared at Alex, at least until he relaxed and smiled over at Amber. “I think I left a shirt at your place back—” Alex should have known he was trying to goad her. It wasn’t like this was their first go-round, but even still, she found herself asking, “Why were you at her place?” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing how that must have sounded, but the damage was done. He was still angry with her, she could see it in his eyes, but he was pleased to get a reaction out of her more…the asshole. Amber, who was clueless as to what was happening between them, quickly tried to explain. “It wasn’t—”

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Alex, who had yet to turn away from Luka said, “At least I could understand why you’d sleep with her, unlike that—” She might not have understood what his problem was with the word, ‘whore’, but that didn’t stop her from attempting to use it. “Poshyol ty’—Fuck off.” Now she got the reaction she’d wanted. Her smile was brittle as she faced off with Luka, but she was immune to his anger, had never feared it a day in her life despite how others reacted to him. Canting her head to the side, Alex asked, “Sensitive about your whore, Luka?” “Who I fuck doesn’t concern you.” That much was true but tell that to her stupid heart that actually cared about him. “Likewise.” She hadn’t meant it, it wasn’t like she was spending time with anyone recently, but

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her thoughts had immediately drifted to Snow—whose name had finally come to her—when he’d said that, and to the conversation they’d had earlier. There was confusion on his face for the briefest of moments, and something akin to hurt if he were capable of that kind of emotion, but all too soon, more anger replaced it, which confused her. Why would he care now? Sensing where this was going, Lauren, ever helpful, jumped in, grabbing Luka’s attention before he could respond. “I thought you were with Mish today?” He glanced back at her, gaze immediately returning to Alex. There was accusation there that she still didn’t understand. “Long fucking story. I’ll get the car.” With him on his feet, heading for the door, Alex wasn’t ready to deal with the questions she knew Lauren would be prone to ask with him gone. Instead, she headed for

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the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her, wishing that she liked anyone but him.

4 ____ See You Later His arms folded across his chest, Luka contemplated whether it was worth the trouble to go off on Alex as he longed to. No one talked to him the way she did, not when there was even a hint of his anger. But she was fearless when she faced off with him, never once backing down, even when others would wither under his gaze. That was because she knew he would never hurt her, not in that way. And mostly because she was a major pain in his ass. He knew she didn’t like Natasha, but it was not because Natasha had done

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anything to her, but because she was with him. The feelings Alex had for him were complicated. Fuck, their entire relationship was complicated, and not just because he was always two steps from the abyss. She had the misfortune of being the boss’ daughter. Not only was she practically mafia royalty—it didn’t matter who her father was, they were both very high up—but she had been deemed untouchable long before Luka had ever reached New York. It had been easy enough for Luka to control himself around her back when they first met. She had only been sixteen at the time, and despite his predilections for breaking the rules, he refused to cross that one. Not after what he had seen back at Bastian’s compound. And with that image stuck in his head, it was easy to ignore her advances. But the longer he was around her since she had chosen to stay in the city instead of returning to France where she had lived for the better

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part of three years, the more he found that he actually liked her. She was pretty, of course. Her mother was too, though that bitch was treacherous. But he found Alex to be rather refreshing since she didn’t shy away from him the way others did. The persona that he had adopted once he’d entered the fold of the Bratva was not one meant to make friends, and he’d managed to keep others away from him since they all thought he was crazy. For whatever reason, Alex didn’t care. And whether he had wanted to admit it to himself at the time, he had been lonely, but while she was good for conversations and just having around when the silence was too suffocating, he couldn’t sleep with her, not when she would have wanted more from him. That was why he’d sought out Natasha. He had made her a promise. So long as he was with her, and even after, no one would bother her. Every Tuesday was his

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night with her, and the rest of the time, she could do what she pleased. For two years now, he had gone to her, sating his lust and darker emotions, and it had worked for them…until Alex. The more he tried to keep her out of trouble, the more time he had to spend with her. And there had been nights when the silence had stretched between them, but he hadn’t minded, not when she was with him. That night was his first mistake. He had almost given in to what she wanted. Shit, what they both wanted, but he had pulled away before it was too much. But with just that little taste, it was almost impossible to turn away. From that moment, everything between them had been intense. Conversations. Arguments. Shit, just being in the same room together sparked something that could almost be physically touched.

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And though he liked Alex more than he would ever admit in this lifetime, that didn’t mean he liked when she acted out. Before, her drinking had bothered him, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. But ever since the night she had gone off on her own to handle Anya, he had made it his business. He knew her now, better than he knew himself in fact, so he could tell when she was spiraling. That was why Mishca had asked him to watch out for her, make sure she wasn’t doing anything that she would regret later. Seeing her today…he was doing a piss-poor job of it, it seemed. It was clear to see that she was hungover. He’d known it the second he picked her up, but he didn’t call her on it the way he needed to. He’d gone easy on her because seeing her so fragile brought out the protective instinct in him. She always had.

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And he might have gotten through to her had she not seen the hickey on his neck. That dropped them right back to square one. Luka kept his hands in his pockets as he trailed behind them, his eyes constantly drifting to Alex. Despite being hungover and looking like hell this morning, she had cleaned up well. And those heels she insisted on wearing did amazing things to her legs. Blinking, he noticed Lauren had fallen behind Alex and Amber after her phone call, and he knew with just a glance that she was going to do what she did best. Meddle. “Do you want my honest opinion?” she asked once he had caught up with her. “No.” He really didn’t because, no matter what she said, it wouldn’t help him. Ignoring him, as only she could do, she said, “I don’t think Mish would actually

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kill you if you had a thing with a particular someone who’s close to him.” Rolling his eyes, though the action was lost on her, he replied, “Leave it alone, Lauren.” “I’m just saying—” “Jesus fucking Christ. Leave it alone. If I wanted your advice, then I would have asked for it. Stop trying to ‘fix’ shit when you should be worried about yourself.” He regretted his words the moment she deflated. He’d never raised his voice to her, or spoken to her any way that wasn’t respectful. She was too nice, almost to a fault. It wasn’t her fault she believed in true love and that bullshit. “Won’t happen again.” Shit. Before he could right what he’d said, she was off, and by the time they left an hour later, it wasn’t just Alex who was ignoring him.

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____ Luka found himself in Mishca’s office once again, waiting for the assignments he’d need to hand out while Mishca and Lauren were gone on their honeymoon. Since he would be offsite for about a week, someone needed to take the reins in his place. His feet kicked up on the table, he whistled to himself, already thinking about what he would be doing later. The more Mishca tried to speak over him, the louder he whistled until the sound was nearly ear splitting. “Luka.” There was a warning in his voice, but it was one Luka didn’t heed. “This is serious.” Luka nodded good-naturedly. “Serious? This is serious. Very serious,” Luka agreed. “I’ll make sure nothing falls to shit while you’re off choking the dragon.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Mishca

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squeezed his eyes shut, grappling for patience. “Luka—” “Jerking the chicken?” he suggested instead, nearly cracking another smile. “Get out.” Finally. Luka was on his feet, more than ready to get out of there. “One more thing.” He turned as Mishca came around his desk, rolling up his sleeve. His brows rose as he tried to guess what Mishca would say next. But it wasn’t anything he said, but what he did. Slinging a fist out, he connected with Luka’s nose, the pain quick and absolute. His head snapped back, his hands immediately going up to cup his nose, a surprised laugh leaving him. Once the shock wore off, Luka wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood. Still smiling, he said, “You hit like a bitch.”

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The seriousness left Mishca as he returned that smile. “Don’t ever break my finger again.” That was what this was about? He’d though Mishca had forgotten about that little incident. “I need you to do something else for me. Tell Alex to stay at the penthouse while we’re gone. She’ll be more secure there.” “I thought I was supposed to stay away from her? You know since she doesn’t need my type of ‘shit’ in her life.” Mishca had been right about that, but he didn’t even know the half of it. “Yet I trust her with you more than anyone else. Don’t make me regret that decision.” Letting his humor fade, he regarded Mishca seriously. “If you thought for a second that you would, then you wouldn’t be assigning me to her.”

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Luka was one of the few people who knew the truth about Alex. Most saw a spoiled little girl who was desperate for somebody’s attention, but Luka knew what Alex had lived through as a child, even if she hadn’t outright told him. Mikhail was too busy with the Bratva to be a proper father, and Anya…well, there hadn’t been a parental instinct in her body, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have expectations, some that were almost too much for a child to live up to. Alex was still trying to shake that influence off, but that was years of conditioning that she would have to rid herself of. “See you when you get back,” Luka said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

5 ____ 10 years ago… Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty neck and forehead as Alex finished another set of spins, dropping down from the tips of her pointe shoes, turning to face her mother with a brilliant smile. For the last three weeks, she had been working tirelessly on her routine for her very first audition with a similar company based in Paris. She might not have been able to pronounce any of the names of the people she’d be performing for—it had taken her entirely too long to remember that her

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instructor’s name wasn’t Mr. Grey—out she would make sure that she was perfect for it. “That was awful.” This sentiment came from Anya sitting in a chair across the dance studio, hands folded primly in her lap. She didn’t believe in wearing jeans—an idea that she passed on to Alex—and despite present company, she wore a dress that would have been inappropriate if not for the long fur coat she wore to combat Manhattan’s chilly weather. Unlike the other mothers who came in to observe on the other side of the glass, Anya dressed as though she were on her way to New York’s Fashion Week, but that could have also been because most of the girls who came to this particular studio were brought in by nannies or drivers. Anya didn’t believe in hiring maids, or any females for that matter, though Alex never understood why.

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Today was Alex’s third solo practice for the week, and if she were being honest, she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. But until she reached Anya’s level of perfection, she would continue until her feet bled if necessary. Alex’s instructor, Mr. Grey, noticeably grimaced though this expression was lost on Anya as she was too busy frowning at Alex. Trying not to let her frustration show, Alex resumed her starting position, waiting for the pianist to begin again. Legs braced, she started, trying to ignore the feel of Anya’s eyes on her as she moved, wishing that she could lose herself in the movements as she had when she was alone in this room. By the time she finished, her chest heaving with every breath she took, she had waited for Anya to speak, knowing that she couldn’t say anything negative. This time, she hadn’t missed a step. But Anya just gathered her things, blinking

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once at Alex to convey the only message she had to give. It was time to go. Disappointed, Alex thanked Mr. Grey. She could see the pity in his eyes—even he wasn’t this hard on her—but turned away before he could give her any words of encouragement. That would only embarrass her further. She followed Anya down to the idling car, slipping into the back and staring out the window as they started off. “Do not embarrass me again.” Alex never could understand how an error on her part would embarrass her mother, but even still, she nodded. She would find a way to be the best there was. No matter what.

6 ____ Free Though her memory of that night was still hazy, Alex found her way back to the compound, this time a little more sure of herself. Snow was easy enough to find, seated at the bar with a girl standing between his legs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Neither noticed Alex’s approach until she was upon them. “Snow?” His gaze snapped to her, that grin of his spreading as he looked her up and down, rudely pushing the girl to the side as he

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reached for her. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Neither did she, but even after just one time, she already missed the high that his pills had given her. “Do you have a second?” “For you? Plenty.” He hopped down, grabbing her hand as he led her through the back hallway toward his room. Alex ignored the curious glances sent in her direction. In his room with the door closed, Snow slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer as he leaned down to kiss her. Frowned, she turned her head, pushing against his chest. Laughing, he stopped, but he still held onto her. “You were a lot more fun the last time you were here.” Yeah, when she was high. “I’m just here to buy, not to get in bed with you.”

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That got a little bit of the arrogance out of his eyes. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m going to sell to you?” She pulled out a wad of cash. “Because I have the money.” Snow plucked the bills from her hand, counting through them before pocketing the cash. Disappearing back into the bathroom—where his supply was undoubtedly—he was back there for a couple of minutes before reappearing with a small baggie. She attempted to grab it when he held it out for her, but he pulled his hand back when she got close. “You know, I’m willing to accept another form of payment. You can keep your money.” Alex forced a tight smile, grabbing the baggie before he could move his hand again. “No thanks. I have plenty of money.”

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Though plenty was a bit of a stretch since she was living off her savings. Of course, Mishca had money and the only thing she had to do was ask, but if he knew what the money was for, he’d cut her off before she even asked. “Hey.” He grabbed her arm before she could exit the room, jerking her back almost painfully. “Next time you come here, check your fucking attitude.” Snatching her arm free, she didn’t bother offering a response as she left as quickly as she came. ____ The beauty of a penthouse apartment, especially one in this particular building, was that there were no neighbors, so when she blasted music at two in the morning—or later since it was pitch black outside—there was no one to call and complain to management. Not that one could really complain since the owner of said building lived in this

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penthouse, but while he and his wife were out of the country, Alex made good use of it. When Luka had first called her and told her of Mishca’s request, she hadn’t taken him up on it, preferring the sanctity of her own space. But after a night of drinking by herself and running out of her own supply, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to raid her brother’s supply. Leaving Snow’s compound, she’d had ten pills—apparently at twenty-five dollars a pop—but now she was down to seven and it hadn’t even been four hours yet. At this rate, she was definitely going to be back like he’d said. She needed to pace herself better. Bass bled through the speakers, a lyrical voice singing of broken promises and desperate dreams, and Alex was on her way to feeling great. Not just because the music was intoxicating and she particularly enjoyed this song, but because of Snow’s magic pills that were working their way through her

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system. She had tried many things in her life, but they were nothing like this. The high she was on was something that she couldn’t adequately describe, no matter how hard she racked her brain for a description. But that had been a little over four hours ago when she had taken them, and now she wanted to keep this feeling going for as long as possible, and the only thing that stood a chance next to those pills was alcohol, and lots of it. Guzzling down the last couple of ounces of vodka, Alex tossed the bottle in the sink, hunting through Mishca’s liquor cabinet for something better, knowing he kept an impressive stock. But that wasn’t what she wanted, not really. After her last visit with Snow, she wanted to avoid him and the truth he’d been saying. How arrogantly she had walked away from him because in the past, she had been able to ignore the urges and use when she felt like it.

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And despite the combination of alcohol and the pills, she still wasn’t as high as she wanted. Alex fingered the Mercedes’ keys, turning the USB-like device over in her hands. If there was a single materialistic object that her brother loved, it was his car. He took immaculate care of it, making sure it got detailed at least twice a month, and if he knew she was even thinking about driving it, he would shut the idea down. But…he was out of the country and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. As fast as the elevator would carry her, she went down to the parking deck, occasionally pressing the unlock key until she spotted the twin lights flashing in the darkness. Climbing in, she fitted the key, smiling when it purred to life. Back when she was fourteen, Mishca had taught her how to drive during one of her trips back to the States, but with her

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schedule, she still didn’t have a license, which only made the thrill of this that much sweeter. She easily steered the car out onto the street, weaving through traffic as she headed for the bridge. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she wanted to get out of the city and go as far as the car would allow her…or at least until she needed to stop for gas. Rolling the windows down, she laughed as the cold air hit her face, whipping her hair back behind her. She, at least, did keep both hands on the wheel, blinking constantly to clear her vision as she narrowly avoided colliding with a parked car. But luckily, the further out of the city she drove, the fewer cars there were populating the street, and when she took a turn off the interstate on one of the exits she glanced at before taking, there was hardly a car in sight.

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With her hand on the gearshift, the wind whipping her hair back, Alex laughed, the sound drowned out by the roar of the engine. Even as the needle continued to creep up on the speedometer, she only pressed her foot harder on the gas, feeling the transmission shift. As she sped by, she only took her eyes off the road for a split second, the chime of her phone stealing her attention, but in those few precious seconds, she didn’t realize that she’d begun drifting into her left lane, and was only jerked back to attention when she heard the blare of a horn. Gasping, she jerked the wheel, nearly missing hitting the truck that was now speeding down the street. Still speeding, she glanced in her rearview mirror, blood pumping through her so fast she could hardly breathe. Laughing at the close call, she was ready to call it a night on the speeding because she had finally

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accomplished what she’d sought out. The adrenaline was just as heady as anything she had taken. But as her eyes dropped back to the street and an animal that she could hardly make out darted out in front of her car, she jerked the wheel, slamming her foot down on the brakes. The car spun round and round as she tried to right herself, the guardrail looming ever closer…

7 ____ Fragile Emotions “You’ve never taken me out on a date,” Natasha commented thoughtfully, running a brush through the long locks of her wet hair. She’d only just gotten out of the shower when Luka arrived, and she’d seemed embarrassed by his appearance in her room—they normally kept a strict schedule, but she didn’t complain. Luka had already taken off his boots, collapsing back with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes. It had been a long day of making sure shit went smoothly while the boss was out of town, and while doing it, Luka

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remembered exactly why he never wanted to move any higher in the Bratva. While he was nothing more than glorified muscle, he preferred it. He would rather stab someone in the hand and demand payment than be forced to ask nicely. At Natasha’s soft statement, he blinked his eyes open, staring over at her though she couldn’t see this. There were times when she had hinted at wanting something more from him besides their arrangement. Small things at first, asking him to stay for just an hour longer, asking about his life outside of his duties. There was once someone very much like Natasha who he’d cared for, but in the end, those feelings he had entertained had only caused everyone involved more pain. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—make that mistake again, not just with her, but with Alex, too. He was already prone to irrational urges where Alex was concerned, so it was

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best if he didn’t pursue anything with her, not with his needs. And if he were being honest, that girl from so long ago didn’t inspire half of what Alex did. “Why would I do this?” She frowned, her brush strokes pausing, but only for a second. “Because you like me and that’s what normal people do.” Natasha turned on the delicate stool, the hem of her nightie riding up, revealing creamy flesh that, because of the conversation they were having, did nothing to entice him. “You’re not ashamed of me, are you?” A hint of vulnerability was present in her eyes as she asked this. He had never given much thought to how she felt about her occupation, taking her own thoughts on the matter at face value. Nobody forced her to be there. If she had no issue with it, then neither would he, but it was becoming abundantly clear that she was beginning to

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care what he thought of her, and with that, it was clear she wanted more. But that question also brought up thoughts of his mother and what she had done to provide for them during the years when he’d had her. If he were not ashamed of her, then he couldn’t be of Natasha. But that didn’t mean he was looking for anything more than what they were doing now. He’d made himself clear on that. “No, but I don’t see what one has to do with the other.” “Then why don’t you take me out?” Scrubbing a hand down his face, he thought about calling it an early night. “I’ve never taken a girl out, and I don’t see myself starting now. I see no reason since I’m only fucking whoever it is.” The last comment was meant to stop her line of questioning more than it was the truth.

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No, he had never dated a girl, but only because his life had never provided him an opportunity. His remark had the desired effect as she grew quiet and turned back to the mirror. The room was silent for a long while until his phone began ringing. Luka sighed, already contemplating shooting the fucking thing and it was only day two…until he read the name. He hadn’t spoken to Alex since the day before the boss left with Lauren, partly because she was avoiding him and partly because he was upset with her. To others, he gave half-truths, or just evaded what he couldn’t talk his way out of, but he never outright lied. With Alex, he was always honest, even when he could shield her from something that would ultimately hurt her. But learning the truth outright was far easier than being served a lie. Unlike Mishca, he

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didn’t think Alex was weak or needed to be coddled like a child. Even when she acted like one. Touching his finger to the screen to connect the call, he put the phone to his ear. “Yo.” “Luka?” He sat up at the sound of her voice. With just one word, he could tell she’d been drinking, was probably out partying even though she was banned from Mishca’s clubs. But even if that were the case, that still didn’t explain why she sounded so scared, or the fact that his hand was itching for a knife so that whoever had done this to her would know they’d messed with the wrong girl. “Where are you?” “Off Highway 29. I…I fucked up and I didn’t know who else to call, but—” “How far out?” He was already reaching for his boots. “I don’t know.”

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Cradling his phone between his shoulder and ear, Luka pulled the laces tight, tying them off. “Who the hell are you with?” “No one. I-I kinda took Mish’s Mercedes…” He paused. “What the fuck.” “Luka, I—” “Stay there. Don’t do shit. Don’t say shit. I’ll be there soon.” He didn’t wait for a response—pocketing the phone as he stood—searching the room with his eyes to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. “Where are you going?” Luka was so agitated that, while he probably wouldn’t have told her before, he spit it out. “Alex fucked up. I have to fix it.” “You know…you always go running when she calls.” If he’d been really paying attention, he might have heard the jealous note to her

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tone, but at that moment, he was too busy concentrating. “I gotta go.” “Can I go with you?” He paused at the door, looking back at her. Sometimes, Alex wasn’t the only one he was brutally honest with. “Hell no. Alex hates you. And it’s not your place.” Not to mention that while he chose to ignore it, it was because of him that she did. “But you may need someone to run interference in case the police are already there.” She’d obviously made a correct assumption from what little Luka had said. “You don’t know what’s going to be out there by the time you make it. I could be useful.” There was a slim possibility she was right—and he really didn’t work well with law enforcement—but if it was only Alex, Natasha would only make the situation worse.

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He didn’t know why, but Luka found himself nodding. “Okay.”

8 ____ Like a Broken Heart Despite the smoke and the serious damage to the front end of the car, Alex was fine though she knew once Mishca got back and saw the result of her impulse decision, he was going to be pissed, and he might very well take it out on her. He really did love his car. Thankfully, at this time of night, the highway was rather empty. She was sitting on one of the guardrails—not the one she had slammed into—staring over at the car, an unlit cigarette in her hand as she waited. She felt awful, seeing what she had done, but

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her hands weren’t shaking because of fear, but the adrenaline still racing through her. She remembered the power she’d held as she raced down the long stretch of road, easily pushing a hundred and twenty. It was like the faster she went, the more she wanted to conquer higher speeds, to see just how fast and far she could go, racing away from the problems she wasn’t ready to face. It had only taken a blink, a quick second when her eyes weren’t on the road, for her to start the domino effect. She had swerved for several feet—a miracle that the car hadn’t flipped over—before she had slammed into the railing, the airbags deploying instantly. If anything hurt her, it was those. The powder had been suffocating and it took every ounce of strength she possessed to get out of the car since she could barely move. Alex didn’t know how much time had passed as she sat out there alone, still feeling

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the effects of whatever she had taken though not as strongly. Twin headlights and a strong sounding engine made her turn her head, relief filling her when she saw the now familiar Wrangler fast approaching. She hopped down, circling the rail as he came to a screeching halt, killing the engine. He was at her side in seconds. “Luka—” He reached for her so fast that she was afraid he was about to hit her, but instead he held her face, forcing her to meet his angry gaze. They drifted from her face to the rest of her, as though he would rather visually confirm that she was fine rather than take her word for it. She had never seen him look so furious, nor did she ever think she’d seen fear in his eyes. Not when he was going out to do his job, or even when he’d come back covered in blood, but he was showing it to her now?

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As she attempted to pull his hands from her face, she tipped her head up so he had a better look at her, and as his eyes narrowed, she knew that he knew. “You been drinking?” The question was so low that she couldn’t mistake his anger for anything else. As she swallowed, trying to think of a good excuse, he dropped his hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He hissed gesturing back to the car. “I didn’t think—” “No shit you weren’t thinking!” he snapped back, his voice rising. “I’m used to you doing shit, but you could have fucking killed somebody. Fuck, you could have killed yourself!” Alex flinched under the onslaught of his anger, but it was nothing she didn’t deserve. He was right, and she should have never gotten in the car, but she hadn’t

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thought she was too far gone to get behind the wheel. “I’m used to having to clean up whatever shit you get into, but this is the last time you pull this shit, understand?” It wasn’t because he was yelling at her that tears formed in her eyes. It was that she felt foolish, and more than anything, she felt like the child that he was always accusing her of being. Luka was very vocal with his anger, and demonstrative, gesturing out wildly around them, but his movements drew Alex’s attention to his Jeep as a door slammed shut. With him being so much taller, she couldn’t see over his shoulder to see who was approaching, but when they finally reached Luka’s side, Alex hadn’t expected to see her. It was no secret to anyone that she didn’t care for Natasha and the reason why. She didn’t like to admit it, but Alex was jealous of the girl.

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She was everything that Alex wasn’t. Natasha had the long, wavy hair two shades darker than brown, her eyes the same rich color, and while Alex was petite and barely had any curves to her frame, Natasha was practically the definition of curvaceous. And more importantly, she had the attention of the one person Alex wanted. The rules that governed Alex and Luka didn’t affect Natasha. Sure, she was technically working for the Bratva, but if Luka wanted to be with her, no one was going to stop him. There was a time when Alex thought Luka didn’t care about those rules since he had shamelessly flirted back with her on multiple occasions, but since Anya, he had stopped completely. Alex took a step back, her gaze shifting between the two of them. She hadn’t given a second thought to calling Luka when she was in trouble. Even if Mishca would have been in town, she would have likely

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called Luka first, but had she known that he was with Natasha…she might not have called him. Natasha slipped her hand around Luka’s shoulder, as if she was trying to calm him down. “We need to handle this before someone drives by. I’m sure Alex didn’t mean for this to happen.” Her cheeks coloring in embarrassment, Alex ground her teeth together. It didn’t help that Natasha was talking about her like she wasn’t standing there, and it only made it worse that she had heard Luka yelling at her. Just seeing them so comfortable together felt like a stab in the heart. She could remember every single time she had begged him for any little piece of him, only to be denied because ‘she couldn’t handle him.’ She knew he treated her differently than others, even joked around with her when no one else was around, but it was becoming

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apparent that her reading something into that was off. Tearing her eyes away from them, she looked back to the car that was still smoking, but was slowly dwindling down. “Sorry. I should have called someone else. I didn’t realize you were busy.” It wasn’t Luka that responded however, but Natasha. “It was no trouble at all.” There was an edge to her laughter, something Luka seemed to catch onto. “I don’t remember calling you, Natasha. I don’t have the number for the Gilded Room. I’ve been meaning to ask, do you each get a separate number, or do you just call and ask for who you want? Maybe there’s a menu?” “Alex, that’s enough,” Luka said. “Is it?” she asked reaching into her pocket for her pack of cigarettes and lighter. Pulling one free, she stuck it between her lips, lighting the end of it, only to have it

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plucked from her lips and tossed to the ground, Luka grinding it out with the toe of his boot. “Oh, you have some fucking nerve. Unless you’re my brother, or you’re fucking me—which neither applies to you—you don’t get to do that.” Now, she was the one who was mad. “Not tonight, Alex,” he returned in French, earning a frown from Natasha as if she hadn’t known he could speak the language. Huh. Maybe if he hadn’t immediately started yelling, she might have felt differently, but now she wasn’t in the mood for a private conversation.“What would you prefer then?” she asked, still in English. “Tomorrow night? I wouldn’t want to interrupt your appointment.” Her eyes cut to Natasha. “I know those can be hard to come by. Though I’ll admit, I didn’t know you booked Wednesday

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nights as well. Her pussy must be lined in gold.” Natasha didn’t look offended by the statement, but her eyes narrowed. When Luka opened his mouth, probably to chastise her again, she waved his words away. “Whatever. I’m sure you want me to wait in the car where I won’t be able to fuck up your night further. Excuse me while I get on that.” Without waiting for a response, Alex went to his Jeep, lighting up another cigarette along the way. The burning nicotine in her lungs kept her calm as she climbed into the back, but it didn’t help when she noticed that Natasha stayed by his side. He made a few calls, speaking in heated Russian as he explained what he needed done. First came another of Mishca’s guys who didn’t notice Alex at all, then came a flatbed that loaded the Mercedes and took off. It only took about an hour and a half, but

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by this time, Alex was out of cigarettes and starting to crash. While her body felt exhausted, mentally she was wide awake. When Luka had finished and it was time to leave, he seemed considerably more irritated than when he had first arrived, that familiar tick working in his jaw. “Alex, front seat.” Natasha looked at him in confusion—and maybe a little hurt—Alex just looked uninterested. “I’m fine back here, thanks,” she said on a laugh, tossing the butt of her cigarette out the window. Apparently, Luka wasn’t in the mood to be denied. Circling the car, he nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he snatched it open, his hand slapping down on her bare thighs as he dragged her across the seat, not caring that he was exposing more than just her legs to the cold air. For just a moment, his eyes drifted down to the apex of her thighs, but she

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snatched the front of her dress down before he could see anything. Hooking an arm around her waist, he easily lifted her out even as she fought against him, carrying her around the front until he got the passenger door open, and shoved her inside. One look from him told her that if she moved an inch, she would regret it. Once Natasha had climbed in the back, albeit reluctantly, Luka peeled out of there. The sun was just breaking over the horizon, muted shades of peach and orange bracketing out by the time they made it back to the city. Natasha was dropped off first and Alex told herself not to pay attention, that there was no point, but she couldn’t help but gaze over and immediately wish she hadn’t. Natasha was embracing him, whispering words that only he could hear, and at the very last second, her gaze connected with Alex’s as Luka returned her embrace. She

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could have played innocent, acted as if she didn’t realize the effect seeing that had on Alex, but instead, she smiled. She wanted Alex to know that she had won a fight that Alex hadn’t realized the other girl was playing. And to make sure she got her point across, she kissed Luka’s cheek as he drew away. Turning away, Alex faced the other direction, feeling like more of a fool than she had all night. Unrequited love, Alex thought as Luka climbed back in, felt dangerously similar to a broken heart. Heading back into the city was a silent affair. He was still angry with her, that much she could from the way he rhythmically squeezed the steering wheel. By the time they reached the penthouse, Alex was drained and more than ready to call it a night.

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Swinging the car into a parking spot, Luka cut the engine, snapping off his seat belt, but he made no move to get out. She waited, expecting him to say something, but when he didn’t she reached for the door handle, turning to face him to say thanks. She might not have liked the company, but she was still grateful he had been there. “Luka, th—” “What you did was fucking stupid, and if you—” “If you’re about to lecture me,” she said cutting him off as he had done her. “Save it. I don’t need that shit from you.” “You obviously need it from somefucking-body because it’s obvious not getting into that pretty little head of yours. Do you not realize that you could have died out there?” “I know, Luka,” she snapped back. “I get it. I fucked up. I admitted that. It won’t

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happen again, and next time I’m in trouble, I’ll make sure to call someone else.” Exasperated, he slammed his fist down on the center console. “That’s not what this is about. Don’t you get that? I want you to call me whenever the fuck you want, but not when shit has already hit the fan. You’re having a shit day, call me and let’s work that shit out before you feel the need to drink do reckless shit like wreck your brother’s car. You do realize he’d going to be pissed when he gets back…” “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him it was my fault so you don’t—” He twisted his body so he could see her better, and so that she could see the seriousness in his expression. “You really think I give a shit about that?” “That’s the only conclusion I’m reaching.” But she knew that wasn’t completely true.

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“You don’t think I care about you?” he asked, his voice gone soft in a way that made her really look at him. “How the fuck is it obvious to everyone else but you that I give a shit what happens to you.” She didn’t think she had ever heard him say those words aloud, and if she had heard them at any other time, she might have been giddy, but she didn’t feel none of that right then. “If you cared about me, then you wouldn’t have brought her with you. I mean, I get it. You’re fucking her. Good for you. But don’t pretend you don’t know how I feel about you, and even if you don’t feel the same way, you could at least tell me that so I won’t—” she trailed off as she angrily wiped at her cheeks, hating the fact that even when she was mad, she cried. “So you won’t what, Alex?” he asked, reaching to pull her hands away from her face.

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God, she didn’t understand him. Why did he need to see the hurt in her? Why couldn’t he just say what she wanted him to say so she could walk away from him and be done with it all? “I’m over it, Luka.” Her grip on her hands grew stronger. “Don’t say that.” “Why not?” she suddenly shouted back at him. “Why can’t you just say it, Luka. Just say, I don’t want you, Alex. Maybe then I can get past these stupid fucking feelings.” “Because I won’t ever lie to you. Even when I want to.” More confused now than she had been before, Alex shook her head, pulling free of him as she climbed out of his Jeep and headed for the building without looking back. He didn’t follow.

9 ____ Hiding She felt like shit because she had nearly killed herself and had managed to nearly total Mishca’s car. Something he was not going to be happy about once she told him since he and Lauren were back home from Sardinia. Since that night, she had adamantly avoided Luka, even ignoring his phone calls. She only sent him a text now and again to let him know that she was okay so he wouldn’t come looking for her, but she knew that would only keep him away for so long.

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Not doing anything else—and not wanting to put off the inevitable—Alex got dressed, heading to the club where Mishca, at least, would undoubtedly be. While she’d wanted to make an effort in her appearance, she just didn’t feel like going through the hassle, just putting her hair up into a messy bun and wearing a dress with tights. The ride to the club was quiet and never ending, a sharp throb starting behind her right eye with each honk of the cabbie’s horn. The nausea was returning, and at this point, she didn’t think she could stay away from Snow anymore, not with what he was offering. She had already gone through the last five that he had given her, and while she was sure that she was okay without them…she was beginning to doubt that. Paying her fare, she climbed out, waving to one of the new bodyguards as she walked by him into the club. On her way, she hadn’t missed the Jeep that was parked a

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couple blocks away—it was coated in mud after all—and she felt worse knowing that Luka was here. Since the night he’d left her apartment, she had made it a point to avoid him at all costs, dodging his calls, too. It wasn’t as though she were staying at her apartment anyway, so it wasn’t hard for her to get away from him. Hiding. That was what she was doing, and a part of her knew that it was silly of her to do so. She didn’t owe him anything, nor did she have to explain her actions, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that seeing the way he looked at her made her feel ashamed. But not enough to stop what she was doing. Even now, she yearned to head across the city to the one place she really didn’t need to be, to see the one person who was the worst thing for her. But could he really be considered the worst when, at least for a few hours, she felt better? In those hours,

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she didn’t think about the life she’d been born into, the things she’d had to prove, or even the things she had to do to stay in his company. It wasn’t as if money was a problem. She could have easily paid him any amount he asked for, and then some, but he didn’t want that, not from her. Maybe he thought he was corrupting her and got off on the idea of that, but it was hard to corrupt something that was already decaying. Alex easily made her way toward the back of the club where the offices were and readied to open Mishca’s door, but the muffled voices on the other side gave her pause. _____ With the boss and Lauren back from their honeymoon, Luka was needed for a quick meeting so he could discuss business and everything that had happened up until this point. Normally, he would have made it

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a point to ask what they had done, annoy the hell out of Mishca like he usually did, but after he picked them up from the airport, dropping Lauren off at home, he just wasn’t feeling it. Not when his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Alex. The first couple of days after he’d confronted her had been fine—it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten pissed at him and not called him for a few days—but nearly a week and a half had passed and still no word from her. Even when his phone wasn’t ringing, he found himself picking it up, willing it to beep or anything just so he could know she was okay. Breaking into her apartment hadn’t helped much, not when she wasn’t staying there, or at least she hadn’t been there when he had come by. This wouldn’t have been a problem if he had any idea where to find her.

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As Mishca spoke about business transactions that needed to be completed, Luka was gazing down at his phone, reading the last message Alex had sent him before painful truths had tore them apart. Hey Tiger, eat any frosted flakes? That had been her version of a good morning, and while she might not have known that he didn’t eat cereal, it never failed to make him smile. This message was sent weeks ago, before Mishca had pretty much told him to stay away from her, before she’d seen the hickey on his neck and the resulting hurt on her face. He’d never given much thought to how much he looked forward to those messages, at least not until they were gone. He missed them, and the way she would smile at him, as if he was the only person in the world who could make her do it. A part of him craved falling into that temptation, giving her exactly what she

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wanted. It wasn’t because of what Mishca said that made him not go there, but rather because of who he was and the damage it would cause if she knew the real reason as to how he ended up in New York at all. “Luka!” He blinked, focusing back on the now irritated Russian in front of him. Storing his phone in his pocket, he folded his hands in his lap and finally focused on what Mishca was saying. “Were you even listening?” “No.” There was something particularly unsettling about the way Mishca was looking at him, but Luka paid it no mind. “The Gilded Room, shut it down.” Now, Luka was blinking in surprise. “Do what now?” “I don’t think I need to repeat myself. I’ll have our banker set up accounts for each of them. Keep me updated.”

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Luka stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Will do.” He was heading for the door, more than a little ready to get out of there. Whether Alex wanted to continue hiding from him was no longer going to matter. Even if she didn’t want him to, he would find her, but Mishca stopped him at the door. “Where the hell is my car?” It was the one question that Luka had been hoping would go unasked because the Mercedes was gone for the moment. He’d taken it to a body shop to be fixed, not realizing that the damage done to the front of it was too extensive to fix without the price being exuberant. If he told Mishca about the reason why his car was the way it was, he would have to explain what Alex was doing—though even he didn’t know what exactly was going on with her—but he didn’t want to do that

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just yet, not when he thought he could get through to her first. “I crashed it.” Mishca blinked, disbelieving, and Luka could almost see the exact moment when Mishca thought about killing him. He laid his hands flat against his desk, leaning his weight against them as he said, “Say that again.” There was a knock at the door before it was pushed open, but Luka was looking at Mishca and didn’t see who was coming in. “That again.” His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Don’t fuck with me, Luka.” This was the first time in a long while that he had let someone talk to him like this for the sake of someone else, and even before, he responded violently, and was now even thinking about what he would do to take the edge off.

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A different kind of irritation filled him as he tried not to react. He wished, had wished, many times that it was anyone but Alex to affect him. “But we both enjoy it so—all right, all right,” he said putting his hands up. “It was late and dark as fuck. Ran her right off the road and hit a tree that came out of fucking nowhere, but if it makes you feel better, I can get you a hula girl for your new car.” “Get out!” Luka was smiling as he turned his back on Mishca, heading for the door, his step faltering as he caught sight of Alex in the doorway. He didn’t have to wonder whether she’d heard, it was written all over her face. Her gaze skirted from his the moment they made eye contact, forcing a smile as she greeted her brother, ignoring him entirely. He didn’t want to call her on it here, but if

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she thought she could avoid him any longer, she had another thing coming. Walking out to his car, he leaned against the side of it and waited, knowing that at some point, she was going to have to come out. He didn’t know how long he stood there, drawing the gazes of curious onlookers, but he paid them no mind. After at least an hour, she finally came out, her gaze immediately stopping on him, her look of surprise making him all too aware that she hadn’t expected him to wait. She turned, heading in the opposite direction, away from where she needed to go, just to avoid him. Pushing off his car, he jogged after her, easily catching up in seconds. Thankfully, she didn’t try to run from him, just resigned herself for whatever he had to say. Alex didn’t look any better than she had the last time he had seen her. In fact, he thought she looked more tired than usual.

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She didn’t wait to see what he wanted, instead saying, “You didn’t have to do that for me. I was going to tell him what happened.” He shrugged. “Now you don’t need to.” “What can I do for you, Luka?” He studied her face, the veins of red forking out in her eyes, bags heavy beneath them. “Is it Anya?” he asked. He genuinely wanted to know what had her so distressed. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that it was because of him that she was doing this to herself, though he did think that it wasn’t helping her feel any better. When they were together and she’d asked him to tell her that he didn’t want her, he’d told her the truth. He wanted her, more than he even liked to admit to himself, but there would come a time when the truth of who he really was would come to light, and

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he didn’t want to be the one to break her heart when she found out the truth. “I’m fine.” “You can lie to everyone else,” he said with a tilt of his head in the direction of the club. “But don’t lie to me.” “Luka, I don’t owe you anything.” “If this is about Natasha—” She looked away from him, but not before he saw the flash of emotion in her eyes. “Who you fuck is none of my business, right?” “Alex—” “Are we going to do this every time we see each other?” she asked suddenly. “There’s nothing really left for us to talk about.” He was growing frustrated, not just because she was shutting him down, but because he couldn’t find the words to tell her what he really meant. “Stop punishing me for—”

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She laughed. “Is that what you think this is about, Luka? I’m not punishing you because I don’t want to talk about my feelings. Maybe I like to drink. Maybe it’s the one time in my life that I’m actually happy, where I’m not pretending for everyone else’s sake. Now, we both know how this conversation is going to end because we’ve been running circles around each other for weeks. Let’s just end it now and save ourselves the headache.” This time when she backed away from him, he let her go. Whether she admitted to it or not, it seemed he did make it worse for her, and if he had to force himself away from her to give her a chance to heal, he’d do that. Even if it killed him.

10 ____ Tainted Hunger Her stomach rumbled from lack of food, but as she flipped through the various menus she had spread out on the countertop, she still couldn’t decide on anything she really wanted. Tossing the last pamphlet down, she sighed, going to grab her phone to scroll through texts. One from Lauren that she would respond to later, and another from Luka that she promptly deleted without reading. Every time she thought of him, or even read his name, she thought about the way Natasha had looked the other night, that

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smugness still grating on her nerves. Alex wished it didn’t matter to her, wished Luka didn’t matter to her. Hell, there were some days when she didn’t even know why she liked him at all. He was more than a little arrogant, had the sense of humor of a thirteen-yearold virgin, and when he was in the mood, was a complete and total bastard…but, other times he was thoughtful, careful with her feelings, and always made it a point to treat her like she mattered. Even when she wished he wouldn’t, he made it a point to check in on her. Those days, he made her feel special, not just because of her paternal line, but also because of her. Alex was just about to end her night with a nice bottle of vodka when her phone chimed again. This time when she picked it up, she was surprised to see a text from

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Snow. Swiping her finger across the screen, her eyes roamed over the message. It was only two words, a smiling emoticon following it, but they were enough to spring Alex from her momentary funk. Wanna party? She thought of the pills she’d taken the last time she was with him, how everything had ceased to exist for that short while. Even if the high didn’t last long, she was definitely going to enjoy it more this time. But she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Snow. He hadn’t necessarily done anything to her, but the way he was acting made her want to avoid him altogether. Torn, she looked down at the menus, then back to her phone. The question was, what was she more hungry for? She tried to rationalize it in her own head, tried to piece together what had brought her to this point. She knew what had

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been her breaking point—Anya—but at what point had she decided to just give up and let this take away the pain? She was supposed to be stronger than this. The family she had come from was notorious for their ruthlessness, for the way they were able to handle any problem thrown at them. Hell, what problems they couldn’t fix with money, they fixed with brutality. …But maybe this was one problem that couldn’t be fixed easily. Tossing down the menus, she headed for the door and didn’t think twice about it. Soon, she wouldn’t be thinking about anything at all. Instead of driving—not that she had any access to a car now that Mishca’s was out of commission for the time being—she hailed a cab, rattling off the address before sitting back and getting comfortable.

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She wasn’t familiar with it, and she knew that it wasn’t the warehouse, but any concern for her safety was second to her need to be free. On the way over, they drove through the city, all the lights shining down in bright arcs, illuminating the night sky. The city thrived on false promises and glorification, and at one time, she had thrived in it. Not how she was now, that was an entirely different appreciation, but back then, she had welcomed everything this city had to offer with open arms. Back then, she’d lived more than most people did in their lifetimes. Traveling the world, having a dream career, everything waiting at her fingertips, all before her seventeenth birthday. What more could she have asked for? But those days had been numbered, and before she could truly sink into what was supposed to be her dream life, it had all been

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snatched away after a single day, one in which she would never forget, even if she wanted. Resting her head against the cool glass of the passenger window, she watched the blur of buildings, remembering when she had walked into one very much like the Hilton Garden she was passing, not expecting the heartbreak she would find in the suite on the top floor.

11 ____ 3 1/2 years ago… “Is there a reason why I’m here?” Alex asked softly as she and Mishca entered the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She was familiar with the place, knew her family held meetings in this very building, and had been since before she was born. She might not have ever attended one—and it wasn’t like she was privy to the inner workings of the Bratva itself since they made it a point to keep her ignorant of it all—and the fact that she was being

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brought here now did not inspire good feelings. Mishca being there did help a bit, though not much since it didn’t seem like he knew why she was there any more than she did. But he did make it a point to ease her fear with humor. “Truthfully,” he said with a forced smile, “I don’t even know why I’m here.” They took the elevator up until they reached their floor, Mishca allowing her to walk ahead of him as a few of Mikhail’s guards stood at their entrance, opening a set of double doors with a key card one was holding. Not only were Mikhail and Anya in the room—the latter Alex knew was here because she had been the one to call Alex with the message that Mikhail wanted her there—but Viktor as well. He might have

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been Alex’s uncle, but she preferred to limit the time she spent around him. He had never done anything to her, had barely spoken ten words to her over the last five years, but something about him always put Alex on edge. It wasn’t just her. He had the tendency to act as though she didn’t exist, even when they were in the same room together. Mishca pulled out a chair for her before claiming the seat next to it. He had lost his cool demeanor, his defenses rising as he looked to their father. “What is this?” Mikhail, who always had the habit of smiling even when stressed, shrugged one of his massive shoulders, tattooed fingers resting on the table. “Now, we wait.” Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. There was definitely something wrong since they were all sitting in a tense silence, eyes cast down. When Alex thought they were being just a little dramatic, there was the soft

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ding as the elevator arrived once again, pairs of feet walking, then the door was being opened, and instead of a boss, or even someone from the Bratva, Lauren was led in and the doors were shut behind her. Alex was too surprised to speak, glancing over at her brother to gauge his reaction. It was obvious that he was just as surprised as she was. Mikhail gestured for her to take the lone seat at the table, twisting the heavy silver ring on his pinky finger. “I did not expect your request. I thought, by this point, you would be dead.” Mishca was on his feet in seconds, speaking in rapid Russian, “What the fuck are you doing?” Alex knew they did not have the best of relationships, especially with the roles they played, but she couldn’t recall a time when Mishca had been so blatantly

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disrespectful, especially not in front of her or with anyone else around. Mikhail, only sparing Mishca the quickest of glances, replied in that same tongue, “Sit or she dies now.” A war raged in Mishca’s eyes, but he settled enough to pick up his chair and set it to rights, but he didn’t reclaim it, staying on his feet, resting his hands flat on the table, leaning his weight onto them. “There’s only one problem with that,” Lauren said, sounding far calmer than Alex felt at the moment. It was almost as if she was unaffected by what was going on right in front of her. “If you had killed me, they would know it was you. Plus, I have something you want.” The ‘they’ Lauren was referring to was lost on Alex, but it was obvious that everyone else in this room knew exactly who she was referring to.

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Reaching into the folder she’d brought in, she pulled out a stack of papers, dropping them onto the table. “My father kept a journal about all the work he did for you.” She thrust the stack across the table toward him. “Names. Dates. It’s enough for a clever man.” Was she…Was she threatening them? Alex didn’t understand what was happening, looking at everyone in the room in turn. What the hell was going on? And why was Mishca letting this happen? It was as if he was stunned speechless. But by not saying anything, he was practically signing her death certificate. Mikhail laughed as if he found it all to be funny. “Is that what you came here to do? Threaten me?” “I want answers about my father,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure you remember him.” Her eyes cut to Mishca, and there was anger there. “Dr.

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Cameron Thompson. I think you called him Doc?” For the first time in her life, Alex thought she saw shame in her brother’s eyes. But that name, she vaguely remembered hearing it before. This doctor had worked for them, she thought. He had been her doctor. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, back before she could even talk. If Doc was her father, then that meant she had to have known about them since that was a hard secret to keep hidden, but if that were the case, she wouldn’t have been so angry about this now. There had to be something more to this than Alex knew. Anya, who hadn’t spoken a word yet, glared at Lauren. “What is—” But Mikhail raised his hand, cutting her off before she could finish that statement. “You have all of your answers, yes?”

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he challenged Lauren. “In your little journal.” “No, I want to know why you ordered him to die.” Alex gasped. Doc had been executed? No one had spoken of him in years—not that they would have told her anything since she had barely been old enough to talk at the time. Mishca had known him more than she would, but there was something about everyone’s answering expressions that worried Alex more. Both Mikhail and Mishca looked surprised by this statement, as though this was the first they’d heard of this, but Viktor and Anya almost looked agitated, and Alex couldn’t understand why. Surely, Mikhail would have known something. He was the boss after all. “Mikhail,” Viktor spoke up in that silky predator-like voice of his. “We have no

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time for this foolish girl’s accusations. Kill her and be done with it.” Mikhail, who hadn’t looked away from Lauren, asked, “If I killed the good doctor, would I have let you near my son?” “You might have thought I would never find out.” He shook his head as though he found her answering lacking. “Then you are not as smart as my son credits you. Tell me, why do you think I had something to do with your father’s death.” “A man, Ivan, was brought into the police station because he attacked me and someone I care about. He offered information to the prosecutor about a murder, my father’s murder. He provided enough detail that they reopened his case. He said that you sanctioned my father’s death, sending him, another man, and Viktor to see it done.” Lauren looked away from all of them. “A robbery gone wrong. That’s what I

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grew up believing, at least until I heard Viktor say that phrase at breakfast. I guess you really can’t fight fate.” She didn’t have to say it for Alex to know what she was referring to. She could still remember the look on Lauren’s face when Viktor gave his toast, when her glass of orange juice slipped from her hand and hit the floor, shattering on impact. “How do you know these things?” Mikhail asked, and the careful ease was gone from his voice. “I was in the closet. No one knew I was there, and it was kept out of the police file.” For the rest of them, it was obviously all coming together, but for Alex, she still didn’t have the slightest idea as to why she was there in particular. “These men you speak of, they are the ones to attack you and the cop, yes?” She nodded.

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“Why would I do this? You cannot collect from a dead man.” She tossed the folder on the table, just as she had done the papers, but this time, her ensuing remark was worse. “My father learned that Viktor was sleeping with your wife.” Alex’s heart dropped, even as Mishca’s mouth dropped open though he snapped it shut just as quickly. Anya gasped indignantly. “You will allow her to accuse me of these lies? In my country, I would cut out her tongue.” “There is no need for such threats, Anya,” he consoled his wife. “Let the girl speak. If she lies, well, we will deal with her, but know that no harm will come to her until she is finished.” But Mikhail didn’t look like he actually believed Lauren, as though that last statement was said for Mishca’s benefit. “You claim to know of this life, then

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you know of my title. No one moves unless I order it.” “Unless they were trying to hide it from you,” Lauren retorted, a coldness to her voice that became more prevalent. “If you didn’t order it, then what reason would your captain have to kill him?” “Where is your proof?” “There is no proof!” Anya exclaimed. “She is lying.” For just a moment, there was sadness in Lauren’s eyes. “There’s living proof.” This time Mishca spoke up, the confusion clear in his voice. “Was there a witness to the act?” “Alex.” Upon hearing her name, she jolted a bit, looking at her brother for some kind of explanation. “How did I get in this?” She remembered when Mishca had said Lauren’s father died, back when she was five. With

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some quick math, Alex shook her head. “I was like a baby when her father was killed.” Lauren looked directly at Mikhail, her head held high as she spoke the words that would set off a chain reaction that would end in multiple deaths and years of heartache. “She’s not your daughter.”

12 ____ Calling Her Name By the time Alex got to Snow’s address, she was more than a little antsy. The door was already open, people spilling out into the yard of the house, most drunk and stumbling over themselves. She paid them no mind, though she did have to step around a guy who was getting cozy with a tree. Snow was right in the middle of the action, reclining on the sofa in the living room, his feet kicked up on a table that looked like it had seen better days. The sight of him sitting like that made her frown. They were completely different, didn’t look alike

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in the slightest, yet the pose reminded her very much of Luka. Up until this point, she had made a strong effort to ignore thoughts of him, push him back to the far recesses of her mind, but now, even with the smallest of reminders, there he was, racing back to the forefront. There were always the good thoughts first, the ones when she remembered the way he smiled, how he always smelled warm and inviting when he was around. Even the way he always crowded her space, even when she didn’t want him to. Those thoughts always brought that familiar twisting of her stomach, but after always came reminders of why she did her best to avoid him lately. Unlike everyone else, Luka saw too much. He had a way of seeing right through her as if he could read her thoughts…anticipate what she was going to do before she did it.

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It could have been because they were so much alike, two broken people trying to find their way because any other reason didn’t make sense. That was why she could stand to be around Snow despite everything about him. It was easy. He didn’t make her feel anything. Snow was just a place keeper for someone who was unattainable, someone who she desperately wished she could be with. Snow was a good enough distraction when the pills weren’t working. As long as she had the pair, she could forget about the life she led outside this room. Snow’s eyes drifted over her, playful and unfocused. Apparently, he was partaking of his own product even though Alex specifically remembered him telling her how he would never use. But either way, that was none of her business, as long as there was something left for her. Forcing a smile, she continued walking toward him, not sparing the girls at his

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sides a second of attention. What he did when she wasn’t with him, she didn’t care. Truthfully, she didn’t care what he did when she was with him, not that she remembered much of that anyway. “Thought you weren’t coming back?” he asked as he remained seated, letting her come to him for once. Alex hated it. Hated that she was now craving a drug only he could give her, and hated more that she knew what this weakness was costing her. She knew that he wouldn’t accept her money this time. He’d made that point clear the last time they’d seen each other. Was she really willing to offer herself up for this? “Does it have to be out here?” she found herself asking, looking around at the scores of people who were oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Need privacy?”

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She knew what he was insinuating, and though every part of her rebelled at the idea, she nodded. Snow whispered something to the girl next to him, sliding off the couch. For the second time, she found herself trailing behind him, dreading what she was going to have to do to get the thing she wanted. He shoved open a door, barking for the couple inside to get out before he had the door closed and her trapped inside with him. When he came toward her this time, wet lips pressing sloppy kisses to her neck as he fiddled with the zipper on her skirt, she didn’t resist, though she stood stiffly, unable to relax. “If you fucking relax, the shit’ll be better for you,” he whispered as he finally caught the back of her zipped and pulled it down. She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes as she turned her face away, not wanting him

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to see her about to cry, and not wanting him to kiss her. He didn’t seem to care about either. “Go get on the bed.” Forcing herself to move, Alex sat on the very edge of the bed, focusing her gaze on a hole in the wall. She could just see Snow undoing his jeans out the corner of her eye, and as her fingers fisted the comforter on his bed, she tried to forget all of this. “Can I at least have the pills?” she asked, angry with herself for the shakiness present in her voice. Snow chuckled, pushing her back onto the bed as he crawled on top of her, shoving her skirt up her thighs. “Payment first.” When he reached for her hand, drawing it down his body so she could grasp the erection that was straining in his jeans, she snatched her arm free.

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“Stop acting like a stuck-up bitch,” he spat at her, “You think shit is free around here?” “No, I’m willing to pay for it. Any number you give me, I’m willing to pay. Just give me a number.” She looked at him, trying to find any glimpse of the guy she had met the first night at the compound. That guy hadn’t seemed so bad, but now that she was staring up at Snow, she didn’t see any of that in him. “Except I don’t want your fucking money. Got plenty of my own.” So no matter what she said, he was going to force her to do this. As he yanked on her underwear, pulling them down her legs, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to detach from the moment, to pretend that she was anywhere else but there. But he was between her thighs, nudging them wider, and the moment she

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felt him breach her, she bit her lip to stop from crying out. There was so much pain, not because he was particularly big, but because she didn’t want him and her body wasn’t ready. He didn’t care however, just forced her to accept what he was giving, not matter how she winced, or how tears fell one at a time. By the time it was over and Snow pulled out of her, Alex didn’t think anything was worth that. Snow reached into the pocket of his jeans, tossing her another little baggie. She held it tight in her fist as she righted her clothes, not able to meet his eyes as she headed for the door. But even as she left this place, leaving behind Snow’s mocking laughter and the endless supply of the very thing she craved, a part of her knew she would be back because the pills were already calling her name.

13 ____ Happy Place For a while, Luka had lived and breathed the Bratva, spending all of his waking hours working to prove himself loyal to those higher up, wanting to make a name for himself in a world where everyone was trying to do the same thing. Unlike most, however, he had been able to do this in less time than anticipated, but with the kind of name he’d drawn, people were less likely to break rules, and now, hardly anyone was willing to step out of line just in case Mishca sent his enforcer to straighten them out. At first, Luka had been proud of this—fighting was all he knew, after all—but

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with less to do, he had a lot of free time on his hands and being idle didn’t work for him. It allowed too many opportunities for his thoughts to drift to the past, to blood and mayhem that made his hands itch to do violence. It was for this reason that Luka found himself lost in a pool hall one night, a neutral location that was open to people from every walk of life as long as nothing went on inside the place. For a time, others had been nervous with Luka there, his predilection toward violence a well-known fact, but after a few weeks passed without an incident, even after a man purposefully spilled an entire pitcher of beer on him, he’d kept his cool. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t find said man across the city another night and break both his kneecaps, but as long as it wasn’t in the bar, no one gave a shit. Once he’d come to this place, it had become his happy medium between taking

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his frustrations out and being with Natasha. He had grown tired of seeking her out many times, if only because she was beginning to think that he needed her, but this had yet to let him down. “You’re playing like shit tonight,” Raj, Luka’s opponent for the night, pointed out as he leaned his weight against the pool stick he was holding. Glaring at the man, Luka didn’t offer a response as he returned his attention to the table, contemplating his next move. He’d intended to get away from his thoughts, but Alex was still in there. Something was going on with her, and he wasn’t sure what. And trying to get her to talk about it rationally didn’t seem to be working, but until he found a way to get to the truth, he’d give her her space. Luka eyed the table carefully, plotting his next shot as he got into position, lining up his pool cue to the exact spot he needed.

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It was his last ball before pocketing the eight. He was about to take the shot, poised to do so, until the bell chimed at the entrance. It was a reflex, really, looking up anytime someone walked in, but this time his hand tightened reflexively around the handle as he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Luck was definitely not on his side as Alex sauntered in, ever careful in those sky-high heels of hers. They might not have been practical, but they did amazing things to her legs and he would be a liar if he didn’t say he appreciated the view. She was intent on the bar, and his first thought had been that she’d come in for him, but when her gaze didn’t even drift in his direction for the briefest of moments, he banished the thought. Luka wanted to ignore her, pretend like he hadn’t seen her at all—it wasn’t as if she had noticed him in the shadowy corner

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he stood in—but he couldn’t, too aware of her despite the distance between them. His grip tightened on the pool stick he held, his eyes narrowing on the shot he planned to take, but now that he knew she was there with him, he couldn’t ignore her, no matter how he tried. Even now, he could hear her. She was not speaking loud enough that he could make out what she was saying, but it was loud enough that he was distracted. And like most times when it came to her, his concentration was shot. His grip on the pool stick was so strong it was a miracle it didn’t crack under the pressure. Like most of the males who were present in the place, his eyes drifted over Alex, taking in every last bit of her, and the outfit that molded to her body. If one could even call it that. The top she wore stopped just beneath her breasts, the same

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burgundy colored skirt fitted to her hips and thighs. Stomach bare for anyone to see. Whenever he came in, he ordered a drink, though it normally sat untouched, but tonight, he downed it, needing something to calm his nerves. He wanted to ignore her presence entirely, should have ignored her, but he was drawn to her in a way that he couldn’t fight. Even now as he stood more than a dozen feet away from her, he was aware of every move she made. The way she flipped that silky hair over her shoulder, the flirtatiousness of her smile…it shot his concentration to hell. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, he was about to take one out when he heard the man next to Alex speak up, saw the way he looked at her, a look that Luka himself had shot in her direction. He started across the room before he could stop himself, and every protest he might have thought of fell silent.

14 ____ Fix Yourself Beneath the spray of steaming water, Alex tried to wash away her sins, desperately wanting to rid herself of Snow’s touch, but no matter how long she stood in the shower, she could still feel him everywhere. The minute she had gotten home after seeing him, she rushed to the bathroom, purging what little there was in her stomach, but with the evidence of who she had become in her hands, it only made her feel worse. For two days, she remained in her apartment, alternating between showering and curling into a ball in her bed. She felt like nothing, worse than she already did.

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Thoughts of Anya and Luka had faded to the far recesses of her mind as yet another failure confronted her. But no matter how shitty she felt, it was only so long that she could lay there and beat herself up before the reminder of the pills came rushing back. Already, she could imagine the sweet release they would bring her, and with it went her crumbling will. She didn’t bother only taking one as she had before. She took three. Sadly, the effect didn’t set in immediately. Turning off the water, she climbed out, reaching for one of the towels she had hanging nearby. She had to step over clothes that littered the floor, along with an assortment of other things she had left out. Usually, she was clean to a fault, liking things in their proper place, but she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

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Hunting through her closet, she picked out clothes blindly and dressed down—at least for her—wearing an oversized sweater and skater skirt. She didn’t bother with heels—she wouldn’t be able to manage that later on. Grabbing her keys and purse, she headed out, though she wasn’t quite sure where she was going. She didn’t know where she was headed, didn’t know if there was any end in sight at all because she was finally, blessedly, numb to it all. Alex was lost in the clouds, drifting through, mist wetting her face as she headed down the street with no end in sight. She was rather enjoying herself until she reached the lit bar at the corner, peering through the windows, catching sight of tumbling blond hair and tattooed arms. What were the odds that she was seeing him tonight of all nights? Thankfully, she

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didn’t see Natasha hanging around, or many other females for that matter, and maybe if she wasn’t floating on her own personal cloud, she would have kept walking. But seeing him made her long to talk to him because if there was one person she could turn to, it was Luka. As she reached for the door handle, a thought hit her. What would he think if he knew what I did? He wouldn’t judge her—there wasn’t a judgmental bone in his body—but the idea of him being disappointed in her almost made her turn away. But she kept on because she needed him more than she was afraid of him learning the truth. Alex pulled open the door, feeling the blast of heat hit her as she entered the pool hall. She headed directly for the bar, feeling multiple gazes on her as she crossed the floor. She was one of only a few females in the room. Maybe before she might have

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entertained the men who were staring appreciatively at her, but the idea of flirting with any man turned her stomach. Finding a seat at the bar, Alex smiled hesitantly at the bartender, waving him over as she pulled out the ID she’d bought years ago but rarely used. “What can I get you?” She surveyed the limited choices up on the wall but ultimately shrugged. “Surprise me.” As he went about mixing her drink, Alex crossed her legs, the hem of her skirt drawing up, something that seemed quite fascinating to the man sitting next to her. He had to be as old as Mikhail and had no shame that he was ogling someone at least half his age. When the bartender returned with a trio of shots, each of them a different color, Alex was more than ready to drink them down.

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Lifting the first, she saluted her still staring neighbor, smiling as she tossed the drink back. It was like swallowing acid. The second went down a lot smoother, and by the time she got to the third, her throat was numb. “How’s about you let me buy your next round?” he offered turning in her direction, allowing her a better look at him. Even if she were into older guys like him, she would probably go for someone a little more…well more. She didn’t know what it really was. His suit fit well, his hair was groomed nicely, and he wasn’t unattractive, but he lacked something that made her uninterested. “That’s nice of you, but no thanks.” “No? What’s the harm in one drink?” She was now realizing the consequences of accepting one little anything. “I—”

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On her other side, someone slapped down a twenty, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know that it was him. He smelled of musk and summer nights, a particularly delightful scent that she could never mistake for anyone else. “You’re done. Let’s go.” He wrapped that scarred and tattooed hand around her arm, pulling her from the seat before she could protest. Her admirer, however, did the protesting for her. “Let go of the lady. I’m sure she can take care of herself.” It was beyond obvious to her that Luka was not in the mood to deal with him, otherwise he might have made a joke, but the tenseness in his body only grew as his eyes narrowed and a dangerous energy pulsated out of him. He didn’t have to respond to the man because whatever expression Luka was

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wearing, the other man paled in response and turned back to the beer he’d been nursing. Luka wasted no more time before dragging her out, but instead of going through the front entrance, they went out through the back into a side alley. Once they were outside, he let her go, and with her equilibrium impaired, she stumbled, nearly face planting on the concrete. She might not have had much to drink, but the shots coupled with the pills were starting to make everything hazy. Finally, the self-loathing was drifting away. Luka, whose anger was only growing, didn’t seem to notice. He crowded her space, furious blue eyes trained on her. “You trying to piss me off?” Though he asked the question, it had to be rhetorical since he was well beyond pissed at this point.

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She shook her head, intending to answer the question seriously, but the peace she felt brought a smile to her face, making him think she was mocking him. She drew the hair that was falling in chaotic waves up from her neck, letting the cold breeze cool her down. It felt like she was burning up. “What are you doing here, Alex?” Walking toward him, she hooked a finger in his belt loop, giving it a tug and she tried to bring him closer. Surprisingly, he let her. “I don’t know.” She didn’t know anything anymore. “But I’m happy I ran into you, Tiger.” His expression softened when she used the name, making her wonder, yet again, if he felt that inescapable draw that she felt toward him. “What’s under there?” she asked, her finger just inches from his face as she traced the lines and contours. “Underneath the

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jokes, the self-deprecation, who are you really? You’re one person with me, and someone totally different with everyone else.” “What does it matter?” And he looked like he genuinely wanted to know. “It matters to me.” “Why? Which side of me do you like better?” She shrugged, smiling sweetly up at him. “I like all of you." He didn’t seem to believe her, but she wanted him to. Needed him to. “Why can’t you see that, Luka? I always have.” While he looked like he wanted to rake his fingers through his hair, they just stilled in the strands, his eyes intent on her. There was no doubt about it, she could have stood there for ages trying to understand him and his thoughts, but her inhibitions

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were gone, and while he might not have wanted to act on it, she wanted him. Taking matters into her own hands, Alex went up on her toes even as she pulled his head down, pressing her lips to his. Luka’s lips were firm but soft, and as she traced her tongue over his bottom lip, he parted them. Alex had the control for a few fleeting seconds, and then her back was against the brick, his hand fisted in her hair as he took over. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she could do no more than surrender. With his hands at the back of her thighs, he lifted her, her legs circling his waist, and it felt like he was consuming her. His hand was beneath her skirt, then between her legs, making her gasp against his mouth. His fingers were there, adding pressure, insistent, ready to slip beneath the thin layer of lace. It would have been so easy for him to do so, and Alex was very close to

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begging him to do just that, but at the mouth of the alley, someone kicked over a can, breaking up the haze they were under. Luka dropped her legs though he stayed close, and for once, that careful mask he wore was gone, replaced with one that looked like need. He was so close that she could feel his erection through his jeans, and more than the heady kiss they’d just shared, this filled her with something more. She could almost forget what she had done with Snow. But while there was need in his eyes, there also seemed to be a war raging inside of him. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his accent the thickest she had ever heard. The Russian inflections had drifted away, replaced with the one that she rarely heard. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” She withered beneath his words, the haze of lust dissipating. That wasn’t even close to what she wanted from him…and if

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that was all he saw, then maybe she had been wrong about him. She meant to tell him to piss off, to take what little pride she had left and walk away, but she found herself answering his question honestly. Tapping her finger against his chest before laying her palm flat, she felt the heat of him through his shirt and the strong beat of his heart. “I want to be in there. I want to matter to you the way you matter to me.” He opened his mouth, but she shook her head before he could say anything more. “I want to matter to somebody who doesn’t feel an obligation to love me.” “Let me take you home, Alex,” he said after a moment’s silence. That was both the last place and the only place she wanted to be. While she loved the sanctity of her own space, it was still just an empty room.

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But it was better than begging him for five minutes of his attention. Backing away, she folded her arms across her chest, looking away from him. She could still taste him on her lips, the ghost of his fingers on her skin. She didn’t want to let go of that feeling, not yet. “I can get home on my own.” “You’re drunk and it’s late. Let’s go.” All of the fight drained out of her, so instead of arguing, she followed him to his Jeep. Closing her eyes, she held onto her high for as long as she could, knowing that the moment she came down, she was going to miss it. They stayed closed even after they pulled off and he expertly navigated them back to her place. It might have only felt like moments to her, but they were already back at her building, but instead of Luka just telling her to get out, he killed the engine and circled

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around to her side. Without a word, he helped her out, sweeping her off her feet as he carried her through the lobby and into the elevator. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the calming rhythm of his heart. He let them in with his key, closing the door with his foot as he brought them into her bedroom where he deposited her on the bed. “Let’s get your shoes off.” His voice was low for once, lacking any emotion that she could find, but that might have been because everything was slowly starting to turn into a vortex. Alex didn’t remember if she had stretched her legs out for him, but she did feel his touch as he took them off one at a time. With an arm going around her, he carefully pulled her to her feet as he undressed her, leaving her clothes in the chaos on the floor.

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His touch was almost hesitant as he turned her back to face him, his gaze lingering on her body. Smiling at him almost sadly, she asked, “This is what I’m good for, no?” “Of course not.” But she wasn’t listening to him. “A pretty face, but not much more.” He cupped her face, forcing her to focus on him. “You can’t believe that.” When she tried pulling away, he held tighter. “How much have you had to drink?” “Does it really matter?” “Talk to me. Tell me what it is.” She didn’t realize she was crying until he swiped her tears away with his thumbs. “There’s nothing here for me anymore.” “I’m here.” His response was immediate and heartfelt. “I can still leave.” “And I would bring you back.”

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“Even if I was happy somewhere else?” He swallowed, his eyes drifting over her face. “If I truly believed that, then I would let you go, but you would be leaving because you’re running from something here. Let me make you happy here.” She laughed without humor, pulling out of his hold. “You can’t fix me, Luka.” “No, I can’t. Only you can fix yourself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make you happy. That’s the only thing I want.” Climbing back onto the bed, she let his words play through her mind, her face sinking into the soft pillow at the head of her bed. She reached for him, wondering if he would accept what she was offering, and when he did, she didn’t ruin in by speaking, just held onto him as she closed her eyes, willing the sleep to come. ____

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Nausea had a way of sneaking up on someone. When awake, at least, one could be prepared for the consequences of imbibing too much, rushing to the nearest available spot to purge, but lost in sleep, it was a little worse because the alcohol was still swimming around, and it was harder to function properly. But this wasn’t Alex’s first time, nor, probably, would it be her last. Her eyes opened slowly, as though they had a mind of their own, but even as the world spun in front of her, just as her stomach was doing, she knew what was to come. Clamping a hand over her mouth just in case, Alex moved as quickly as she could out of the bed, stumbling into just about everything in the near vicinity as she hurried to the bathroom, barely making it to her knees before she was throwing up everything in her body. Even as she did it, she had to lift her face occasionally, flushing the toilet so the stench wouldn’t make her gag more.

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Alex groaned, but at least the spinning was slowing down enough that she could almost see her own hand in front of her. She flushed again, leaning back against the wall so the coolness of it could seep into her pores and cool her down. She was practically sweating everywhere, but after a few minutes of just sitting and breathing, that finally subsided as well. She took her time pushing to her feet, heading for the sink as she propped herself against the edge of it, reaching for her bottle of mouthwash first, then brushing her teeth with as much vigor as she could. Finished, she splashed water on her face, drying off with a towel nearby. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she cringed. Worse. It was worse than she had been expecting. She put a hand to her face hoping that maybe, the person staring back at her was a stranger, but she wasn’t that lucky. Her eyes

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were bloodshot, though she had gotten used to this sight with the weeks she’d been drinking her nights away, and the bags under them looked like they were constantly growing. Except, the one thing that wasn’t growing on her was everything else. She looked thinner, her collarbone more pronounced, the angles of her face more severe. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything that could even remotely be considered a meal. Grabbing a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top that was on her floor and looked moderately clean, she headed out to her kitchen, not bothering to turn on any lights on the way. Yanking the refrigerator door open, she frowned at the contents. Nothing even remotely edible. She contemplated ordering out, running through the time it would take them to get there, when she thought of something a little more important.

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Alex hadn’t realized her hand was shaking until she raised it to run her fingers through her hair. She had easily gone days without seeing Snow in the past, maybe even longer, but now that her mind had fixated on what he could give her, she couldn’t think about going another ten minutes without seeing him. Snow was going to be pissed at what she’d done yesterday, would probably act like a dick about it, but she didn’t really have any other option. Biting her nail, she was hurrying back to her room when a noise from the couch made her jump, her eyes darting to the person who was now swinging their legs around and dropping their feet to the floor. Shit, she’d forgotten that Luka had crashed at her house, though she thought she remembered him actually in the bed with her. Now that she definitely didn’t agree to, and while any other time she might have

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pretended to be annoyed, this time she actually was. Undoubtedly, he would start asking her questions that she didn’t want to answer, and if she said something he didn’t like, that would just make it more difficult for her to leave. She really didn’t need this shit now. “Luka, you’re up. Uh, cool. I’m heading across the city to meet with a friend. If you want, you can crash here and I’ll see you later.” When she was done speaking, she pressed her lips together, wondering why she had opened her mouth at all, because with the way he was looking at her now, he could definitely tell something was up. “Who?” She waved a hand, hoping to recover from her fuck up. “You wouldn’t know them. Not Bratva related.” He stood, moving around the couch until he was in front of her, his gaze trained

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on her face. Hers, however, focused on his chest and not because she was checking him out. She was afraid of what he would say if he saw the truth, as she knew he would. “Give me a name and I’ll tell you if I do.” Her eyes darted, trying to come up with an answer that would be good enough for him, but since she hadn’t expected to be questioned, she was a little slow in producing one. She lifted her hand, wanting to shove her hair out of her face, but seeing them shaking again just made her ball it into a fist. “John.” “John?” “Yeah, just John.” It was beyond obvious that Luka didn’t believe a word she was saying, but as that churning in her gut grew worse, she was starting not to care that he didn’t believe her,

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and was more concerned with getting him out of there so she could leave. Choosing not to stand there as he deciphered her words, she shouldered past him, on her way to her room, but it was never that easy with Luka, and it hadn’t been her words he’d been trying to make sense of, but her altogether. He grabbed her from behind, his hand fisting the fabric of her shirt as he gave it a sharp tug, spinning her around, his hand gripping her jaw so she couldn’t turn away. His eyes darted as he scanned her face, looking for what, she didn’t know. His frown grew more apparent, his grip tightening slightly. “What are you on?” Alex couldn’t help it. She laughed a little. It wasn’t that the question was particularly funny, but because she didn’t actually know what she was on, or at least some of it. She could have listed what she drank when

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she was still here, but when she was in the compound with Snow, it was all a mystery. Despite the growing anger in his face, she decided to answer honestly. “A little bit of everything.” The look on his face had her shaking her head. “But don’t worry, even if I hadn’t’ve been high last night, I still would have done it. Maybe not now, but eventually. It feels like that’s where we’re going to end up at some point, don’t you think?” Ignoring that, he asked, “Tell me…what are you taking?” “I think I answered that. Now, are you going to be long about this? I have somewhere to go.” “This is where you’ve been going, why you’re not at home? Who’s giving this shit to you anyway?” She smiled a secretive smile, wagging her finger. “A friend.” “Don’t fuck with me, Alex.”

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No longer finding him amusing, she pulled free of him, frowning. “Back off, Luka. I don’t owe you anything, and the last time I checked, we’re not family, nor are you fucking me. That means you don’t get to tell me what to do.” “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you and the fact that you’re drowning in whatever the fuck this is.” “I appreciate it, and if I weren’t late, I would stick around to discuss this more, but I’m in a rush, so…Seriously,” she said when he didn’t move. “I’m fine. I know I said I’d never call you again, but if something’s up, you’ll be the first person I call, okay?” When his phone rang, she took this as her opportunity to get away from him. It was obvious that he wanted to stop her, but he couldn’t ignore the call, not when it was his boss. “You can let yourself out, Luka.”

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She was glad that she was able to escape without further hassle, but she didn’t realize just how hard it had been for him to watch her go. _____ Three pills, a fifth of vodka, and a number of other things that Alex really didn’t want to think about later, she felt like shit. Not just physically, though that too since it felt like she could hardly keep her eyes open, but emotionally as well, especially since that scene with Luka earlier. She didn’t want to admit that things were spiraling out of control any more than she wanted to admit that now she was officially trading her body for drugs. Just another thing to add to her list of fuck-ups. A part of her felt like crying because she was doing this to herself, that she had a choice in the matter, but the other part enjoyed the pain she was putting herself

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through because she deserved it. She had been given so many choices, so many opportunities to go a different route, but every time, she chose wrong. Her phone was in her hand, pills in the other, and all the others who were partying around her seemed oblivious to her inner turmoil. Here again, she was presented with two options. She could call Luka, admit that she wasn’t dealing well and she knew, no matter how she felt about his relationship with Natasha, that he would be there and help in his own way. But her other option was easier. She could take the pills, sink into oblivion, and confront the problem another day. Dropping the phone on the bed, she frowned even as she lifted her hand, taking them all instead of rationing. Had there ever really been a choice?

15 ____ Death is Knocking Mishca arched a brow, staring Luka down. “Do I have to tell you how to do your job?” Though his hand twitched with urges of a time long past, Luka merely nodded, conceding to what Mishca was saying to him. There was something going on with the Bratva boss that Luka wasn’t understanding at the moment. Ever since he’d gotten back from Italy, he’d become a bit of a dictator, and while their relationship had always been rather easy before, now it was as if he was

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deliberately trying to push Luka’s buttons to get a rise out of him. There was only once when Luka’s careful control had slipped, the night when Vlad was killed. More than the others who stained his conscience, Luka wouldn’t be forgetting the former enforcer’s death anytime soon, especially since it had come by his own hand. Clear as day, he could still remember lifting the gun, firing off the rounds that killed him almost instantaneously as if it was second nature. At the time, it hadn’t mattered that he had known Vlad for a couple of years and might have considered the older man someone he was close to. Ultimately, he’d had to make a choice between adding another haunting memory or saving a friend from the same thing, only Luka knew that it wouldn’t have been the same. Mishca had cared for Vlad in a way that would have broken him if he’d been the one to take his life.

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Not many understood the sacrifice of what it meant to take a life. Sure, some could forget the names and faces of people they ended, but Luka wasn’t one of them, and more importantly, he didn’t want to be. He liked having the reminder, knowing that during his every waking moment, he wasn’t a good person. He needed to remember who he was. But after the deed was done, whenever he had to kill someone for a job, he needed his time to unwind or else everything came bubbling to the surface, and he was afraid that once that part of him ran loose again, he wouldn’t be able to contain it. That was why when Mishca had struck out against him, just moments after he’d done him a favor, Luka had reacted the way he had, breaking the former Bratva captain’s finger. His rage had been sudden and overwhelming, but before he could act on it any further—though the satisfying crunch of bone

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beneath his hand had made him miss the Pit—he’d walked away, using Natasha to work through the darker urges that were consuming him. For the moment, he pushed it back, ignoring his baser needs. Mishca was his friend, the closest thing he had to a brother. He wouldn’t hurt him. At least not intentionally, but the only thing on his mind at present was tracking down Alex and getting to the bottom of whatever was up with her. Last night… He didn’t think he had ever seen her so broken down. There’s no place for me here anymore. Those words haunted him because if that was the way she truly felt, then he hadn’t been doing a good job of showing her exactly how important she was to him.

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Did she not know he lived for the way she used to smile at him just because it was him? Did she not know that making her laugh, seeing the way she used to light up around him, was one of the reasons he loved being around her? Because it made him feel like he was something more than a killer. “We done?” But he didn’t bother to stick around for Mishca’s answer, leaving his office. Tossing the duffel over his shoulder, Luka headed out into the night, his step faltering as he caught sight of the one person he really didn’t feel like encountering. He was an unwelcome sight, not just because of the resentment the guy held toward Luka, but because he was a reminder of a past better left forgotten. Klaus Volkov, or Red, if you were unfortunate enough to become one of his

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marks, was the brother of Mishca, though that was abundantly clear since the pair were twins. But while they looked alike, their personalities were polar opposites. Not that Luka could blame him for this. They were both a product of the men who made them. It just so happened that Luka was to blame for the anger Klaus carried around. At least partially to blame. There were others he’d made a target of first. In comparison, Luka had gotten off light, but whenever Luka and Klaus crossed paths there was always a considerable tension between the pair, one that most ignored. No one really wondered why, especially with Luka’s personality and Klaus’ predilection for anger, but only known to the pair of them was why exactly there was that tension. A few weeks ago, Klaus had asked him to come out and meet him, and not seeing

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much of a choice, Luka had obeyed, but it hadn’t been as innocent as he had hoped. Luka approached him, hands in his pockets, his eyebrows drawing together. “Having a bad day?” The look he shot him would have quelled a lesser man, but Luka was immune. Klaus, who had the look of a man who had come to this place on a mission, didn’t bother speaking. He just marched toward Luka, landing a solid punch to his face and knocking him back a step though the motion didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. His gaze intent on Luka, there was a fire in his eyes that was usually kept hidden, but tonight it was out in full force. A solid punch to the face knocked Luka off balance, but the force behind it might have thrown a lesser man. He’d grown up fighting, battling in enough grisly matches that he hardly felt the pain of it. That wasn’t to say he was unaffected. He

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did feel it, but it didn’t process the same, and for most people, that was unfathomable. But Klaus knew Luka better than anyone else. Maybe because of the information he’d dug up on him…Maybe because they were cut from the same cloth, forced into a life neither had chosen, and for that reason, Klaus wouldn’t be able to quell his rage by simply beating the shit out of him. No, Klaus needed to best him, to prove to himself—because he couldn’t give a shit what Luka thought of him—that he was no longer that weak. Klaus stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. For all appearances, he might have looked unguarded, but Luka knew that stance for the deception it was. “Fight back.” The command was said slowly, carefully, as if it was as much of a request as it was plea. When he’d first returned and Luka had shown him the branding on his side,

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one of two that he’d actually didn’t try to cover, there was an understanding between them. But there was only so much that Klaus could do. If he was anything like Luka, then he was constantly bombarded by memories of a time he’d rather forget, and the only way to purge it was to retaliate against those that had wronged him. Getting hit in the face, not to mention the taunt, made the age old need for violence flicker to life inside of him, but he tamped it down, keeping his hands at his sides even as they twitched. Whether or not Klaus would agree, Luka owed this to him. A blood debt could only be resolved by answering in blood. Luka, who’d straightened, shrugged a shoulder, still not making a move against him, not ready to retaliate. There would come a point when he would, so long as Klaus kept hitting him, but he wasn’t at that point yet.

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Klaus looked mildly annoyed but didn’t stay that way for long before he was launching his fists again, one to Luka’s face, the other to his body, but instead of pulling back as he’d done before, he kept hitting, landing blow after blow, faster than even Luka had realized. It only took a split second to finally set him off, and if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say what it was that had been the trigger, but once it happened, he didn’t force it back down, he happily and willingly embraced it. Catching Klaus’ fist, Luka twisted, shoving him back. At this point, this was no longer a fair fight. This was about survival. If there was going to be someone who made it out of this alive, then Luka was determined to be that person, even if Klaus had to die. By the end of it, however, they were both bloody, but alive.

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And since then, things had been strained—as they probably always would be—but at least they were cordial. Klaus was leaning against the side of Luka’s truck, wearing his usual attire of all black, the hood of his leather jacket up, partially obscuring his face, but there was no mistaking who he was. Luka knew he could recognize him anywhere. “Something I can do for you?” Luka asked when he was only a few feet away. When they weren’t around the others, Luka didn’t go out of his way to be friendly with Klaus. While he did actually like the mercenary, it was hard to know which side of Klaus one would get on any given day. He liked to tread carefully, just in case Klaus finally did decide to snap and kill him. “Calling in that favor.” Luka frowned. Months ago, when Klaus had reappeared in the city, bringing back memories

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better left buried, they had inevitably crossed paths. In exchange for him keeping Luka’s secrets—the fact that Luka had been the one to torture the hell out of him, though it was really Mishca who was meant to be in that chair—Luka would owe him a debt to be collected at a later date. He had never forgotten this obligation to him—how could he since they were constantly around each other—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious as to why it was being collected now. “Why?” Klaus frowned, though he didn’t look particularly angry. “Does it matter?” “Depends. When I finish whatever this favor is, how do I know what you’ll do after?” Now Klaus was smirking. “I wouldn’t kill you. Lauren likes you.” “And that matters to you?” In answer, he shrugged.

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“I mean if you’re in love with the boss’ wife, who am I to judge? Kind of weird though right? For all you know, she could be thinking of you while—” “It amazes me that you’ve lived this long. Honestly.” Electing to ignore his comments, Klaus reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling a picture free. He flipped it over, showing Luka the black and gray image, the subject of it unaware that they were followed as they were on the phone about to climb into a black truck, but more than that, seeing the person depicted there felt like something was constricting Luka’s heart. Both feelings of hatred and fondness came over him as Luka steeled himself, knowing that Klaus was waiting for a reaction from him. It had been years since Luka had seen the man in the image. In that time, Luka had carefully buried as much of his former life as he could, and that meant trying

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his hardest to forget this one person, a person who was very much like him, but worse. A person who had helped him torture Klaus, though it could be said that he’d enjoyed it far more than Luka did. In fact, if there were anyone that enjoyed hurting people a little too much, it would be him. Stalling for time, Luka reached around Klaus, tossing the duffel he carried into the backseat. “What about him?” he asked after he had a moment to collect himself. “Your life for his.” Grinding his teeth, Luka couldn’t help glancing back toward the building he’d just come out of, wondering if they were being watched. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be around each other, especially with Klaus hanging around more, but it only took one person being a little too curious for secrets to

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become exposed, and he really didn’t need that. “I help you find him and you’ll let me live, is that right?” Klaus shook his head, pocketing the picture. “Not at all. I don’t need you to find him. I’ve found the rest of your lot just fine, I need to know everything about his operation.” Now, it was Luka’s turn to look confused. “What operation?” Klaus’ head canted to the side in that eerie way of his, as if he was trying to gauge whether Luka was lying to him. “You don’t know, do you?” “Know what?” “Your friend here has taken over for the Besniks since their unfortunate passing”—he didn’t make it sound unfortunate at all—“and because of it, he made his first mistake.” Klaus patted the pocket of his jacket. “He came out of hiding.”

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“Why the fuck would he do that?” Though he asked the question aloud, it was more to himself than to Klaus. Since the night he turned his back on the Organization, Klaus hadn’t given much thought to what the others had done in his absence…maybe except for Fatos. Not a day went by that Luka hadn’t thought about seeing his face again, and what he would do when he saw him. While he felt an immeasurable amount of anger toward his old friend, there was that old lingering feeling of sadness. There was a time when Fatos was the only friend he had, and sometimes, especially because he knew him so well, he missed that companionship. But with Klaus wanting him dead, the likelihood of a happy reunion was slim. “Probably looking for you. Tell me, have you done anything to get the Albanians’ attention?”

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Immediately, he thought of the night he’d tried to help Alex, searching for answers to fix a situation that needed to be handled. A single night when he had almost gone too far in regards to Alex, but not far enough when it came to Bastian. When he thought about it hard enough, he could still remember the warmth of the slick blood coating his skin when he cut Bastian’s back up, and then when he’d made it a point to cut the man’s tongue out, taking a bit too much satisfaction in watching him choke to death. It wasn’t like the Organization didn’t know where he was…Or maybe Jetmir hadn’t bothered to share this information, and practically everyone that had been there that night was dead…except for Fatos. Had he made a mistake by killing one of the highest-ranking members of the Organization? Maybe.

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“You want him,” Luka said, “get him yourself.” Smirking, Klaus asked, “Is that your final answer?” Shrugging, Luka didn’t bother answering, circling his truck to hop in, wanting to ignore Klaus entirely, but it was hard ignoring someone like him. Shaking his head, Klaus leaned in t the passenger door window. “After all he’s done, you still won’t betray him?” Grinding his teeth, Luka stared straight ahead, thinking of a time when things hadn’t been so complicated. “No more than I would betray Mishca.” “Yet, one gave you life, the other took it away.” Starting the engine, Luka put the car in drive, sparing Klaus one last glance. “We haven’t reached the end yet. That answer’s still in the air.” ____

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Luka didn’t like something about motorcycle clubs. He couldn’t explain the notion, especially when he could think of a few members who he thought were okay, but the premise of them didn’t sit well with him. Despite his reservations, Luka went in to conduct business, feeling the eyes on him as he followed the president to a back room where they worked out the remaining details. A few other men trailed behind them, but if there was one thing he was sure of, they wouldn’t try to ambush him. While the president went to a safe embedded in the wall, punching in a code to open it up, Luka rocked back on his heels, whistling softly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He was ready to leave, had never particularly cared for this job at all really, but that was the name of the job. Money switched hands, product handed over, and Luka was almost out of there, but at the last

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moment, he glanced over when he heard the sharp sound of laughter coming from his right. He expected some girl in way over her head being mauled by a pair of the men who called this place their home, but he wasn’t expecting that girl to be Alex. She was sitting up on a barstool, her back toward the wall though she was mostly slumped forward, her head lolling on her shoulders. He could get past this if she were sober, if she were aware of what was happening around her. He had no right to tell her what to do, even if the sight of her with anyone else irritated the shit out of him. But the fact that she was hardly conscious as the idiot standing between her legs groped her, pulling at the straps of her dress until she was bare from the waist up, sent a familiar fury settling inside of him as his only focus became getting to her.

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Luka didn’t remember dropping the bag full of cash on the ground, nor did he remember pulling out the pair of guns he always carried with him. One minute he was intent on leaving, the next he had fired off a number of rounds, perfectly calculated to hit the patched in members who were closest to Alex. They weren't kill shots despite his need for that, just close enough to get their attention. Chaos ensued as women scattered and men grappled for their guns. Before any of them could even think of pulling the trigger, Luka was across the room, snatching the man away from Alex who was a little slow to the fact that bullets were flying. When Luka spun him around, he cursed, his movements sluggish as he tried to get free, but undeterred, Luka palmed the back of his head and slammed him face first onto the pool table.

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“You’ve got a fucking death wish!” he grumbled as he shot back, trying to gain his footing, cupping his nose as blood flowed. “The fuck is your problem, Russian?” one of them demanded. Not bothering to correct that assumption, Luka turned back to the president of this little biker gang, not giving a shit that there were at least twenty guns on him. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed uncaring of the threat on his life that made them glance at each other, unsure of what he was capable of. They had no idea. Nodding his head in Alex’s direction, Luka said, “She’s coming with me.” “Bullshit,” the one who’d been with Alex said as he circled the table, more sure of himself now that he had his little army. “I say she fucking stays. Why don’t we ask her who she wants to stay with.”

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The question only managed to piss Luka off more. “You don’t know who she is.” “If she’s your bitch,” the president said, “then learn how to control her.” She wasn’t Luka’s at all, but the words were at the tip of his tongue. “She’s Volkov’s little sister.” Luka’s actions might have gotten their attention, but his words were enough to put fear in their hearts. They weren’t stupid, none of them could take on the Bratva and live to see the end of it. There was never a day when Luka thought that he would have to use the Volkov name to get him out of a bind. He was plenty terrifying on his own, but if he wanted to get Alex out of there safely, then he had to do this the right way with minimum bloodshed. “Now, you have one choice. I’ll take her out of here and I won’t mention this to my boss, or I shoot you and then we’ll leave.” “You can’t take all of us.”

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Of course, this intelligent answer came from the one person who Luka was itching to kill. Gun still in hand, he closed the distance between them, all too aware of the others aiming at him, but he paid them no mind. He grabbed hold of the man’s cut, jerking him forward and off balance. Luka held the gun pressed to his head, not caring that there were at least four others pointed at him in return. He wasn’t outmatched, but he had someone other than himself to think about, and despite that dark desire in him that was begging for a fight, he had to let this one go. “You think you don’t know fear,” Luka said, speaking so only he could hear. “But you don’t know what I’m capable of. When I catch back up with you—and I promise I will—I’m going to put a bullet in both your fucking knees, and by the end of the night, you’ll beg me to kill you.”

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“Snow,” the president snapped, breaking up their moment. “Find another bitch for the night.” Snow was still smirking, trying to keep face for his brothers around him, but Luka could practically smell the stench of unease on him now. He didn’t know how long it would take, whether a day or a year, but Luka was going to pay him a visit, and when he did, he would purge every demon inside of him. ____ There were a number of traffic laws broken as Luka raced from the warehouse, his mind going just as fast as he tried to think of how best to handle this. This wasn’t the first time he had been around someone who used drugs, but it was the first person he cared about. Mishca would overreact and make the situation worse, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Klaus, so without any other

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options, he took her to the only place that was secluded enough for him to take care of her. His own place. He gunned the engine, constantly looking down at his lap to make sure that she was okay where her head rested on his leg, but with how still she was, he worried whether or not she was still breathing. When his place came into view, he threw his Jeep into park and hurried around to Alex’s side to pull her out. Gingerly lifting her over his shoulder, he kept an arm around her legs as he walked the short distance to his house. Getting the door open one-handed was a bit of a challenge, but he managed it. Luka kicked the door shut with his foot, not bothering to lock it behind him as he carried her up the stairs, heart hammering in his chest. He tried to center his thoughts and focus on the task at hand, but having her over

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his shoulder, hardly moving at all, his emotions were too chaotic. He was too invested in this, in her, to turn it all off as he had done so many times in the past. Not giving it a second thought, he took her to his bedroom, dropping her on the bed, but immediately gripped her shoulders to force her back up. But she was still limp. “Shit…shit.” Picking her back up, he carried her into the bathroom, nearly tripping in his haste to get the shower on, freezing water streaming from above. He sat with her in his arms, the water immediately soaking through their clothes. “Alex, wake up.” He was freezing, water droplets falling in his eyes, no matter how often he wiped them away. When she still didn’t stir, he raised his hand to her face and smacked her

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though he didn’t put much power behind it, his hand shaking too badly. Nothing. For so long, Luka had worked with careless abandon, never giving a second thought to those he hurt, and despite it all, he rarely felt fear. But as his hand continued to tremble when he raised it again, he couldn’t deny that that was what he was feeling. Fear. With one slap harder than the others, he yelled her name. She groaned, a low sound that was like music to his ears. She tried to push off him, but he kept a firm hold. Luka had to fix this, fix her, but in his current state, he was panicking too much to do any good. Balling his fist, he slammed it into the wall, then again, only satisfied when he heard the crack of the tile along with the sharp pain radiating up his arm.

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Pain sharpened his mind, helped him focus, and normally turned off everything inside of him. Against her hair, he whispered an apology, knowing that what he planned to do to her was for her own good…even if it hurt her. Shifting her, he opened her mouth and shoved two fingers in. Alex responded immediately, gagging, her dainty hands coming up to grab at his arm, her nails scoring his skin. Only when she started throwing up did he remove them. Once it started, it wouldn’t stop. She lurched to the side, but there was hardly any room for her to move. Most of it went all over his jeans, and her own clothes, but he didn’t care about that, only glad that he was finally seeing her move. But it wasn’t until she started crying, whispering broken words he couldn’t hear that something broke inside of him.

PART TWO Secrets never die. We bury them alive, And pray they don’t Come back to haunt us. -Mia Hollow

16 ____ Past November 22 Luka stepped off the elevator, hands in his pockets as he walked toward the door listed on the paper his former boss had given him. After three months of working underneath Mikhail Volkov, Luka was now being sent to work for his son, the very person who Luka had made a point to avoid, but he couldn’t deny the new assignment without suspicion. It had helped that he told partial truths, enough that no one questioned his origins and that he was able to keep it all straight in his head. While he still had his

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accent from the old country, it was now muddled by his time here in the States, along with his pronunciation of his mother’s accent. Considering he did the dirty work—and the way he went about it—no one wanted to spend any extended time with him, which worked for his cover. He didn’t doubt that the son of Mikhail had heard the rumors about who he was and what he did, but he only hoped that the attitude he portrayed would be enough to keep him from being questioned. Raising his fist, he knocked it against the heavy wood, standing back so that the person on the other side would be able to see him clearly. It took a few moments, but when the door swung wide, Luka wasn’t expecting who he saw on the other side. A girl, with big green eyes and long blond hair. Despite her small stature, she didn’t look much like a child. There was not

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an abundance of curves, but just enough for him to take notice. “Who are you?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn’t regret asking. A smile crossed her face, one of sly amusement, one without any hint of an ulterior motive. It was different, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with something other than contempt. No…he could, he just didn’t like thinking about her. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she asked, the light lilting quality of her voice drawing him in. French? “Maybe. I’m looking for Volkov.” “That would be me—or Volkova if you want to be technical—what can I do for you?”

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No one had ever mentioned to him that the Pakhan had a daughter, nor one that looked like this girl, but now as Luka really looked at her, he realized just how much she looked like Anya. And if she were her daughter, she couldn’t be much older than fifteen. Realizing this, Luka took a step back, clearing his throat. “The other Volkov then.” She looked at him curiously, as if just from the short time they had been standing there together, she found him interesting. Opening her mouth, Alex meant to say something more to him, but a voice inside the apartment cut her off. “What did I tell you about answering my door?” It was no question that the boy who’d appeared behind his sister was Mishca Volkov. Luka was hauntingly familiar with that face, but unlike the one that Luka had tortured a few months ago, there was no

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fear in this man’s eyes. Only a coldness, an anger that Luka could relate to. “Who are you?” He thought of putting his guard back up, but he thought of something better, a cover that would make him less likely to be liked. “Luka,” he answered with a broad grin. “The help.” It had the desired reaction. Mishca didn’t seem to know what to think of him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to determine whether Luka was trying to purposefully be disrespectful. “Come in and I’ll update you with everything you need to know.” Mishca stepped to the side, allowing Luka to walk in front of him, careful not to have his back to him. Smart. But Luka didn’t trust him either, no matter how long he had been working for the family and no one had

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seemed any the wiser, but he was less conspicuous about it. He was led to an office, one that was the same muted gray tones as the rest of the apartment seemed to be. Before heading in, however, Luka found himself looking back over his shoulder at the youngest Volkov, an unexpected addition that he hadn’t counted on. Barely ten minutes in her presence and he knew, knew it in a way that surprised him that she was going to be a problem. Whether good or bad, he still didn’t know.

17 ____ Locked In Stars blanketed the midnight sky, peeking through the sparse covering of clouds. The moon hung heavy, muted light spilling in through the window of the darkened room. Alex was groggy as she came awake, trying to get her bearings, pushing her hair out of her face as she sat up. She wasn’t at home, that much was apparent, since she didn’t recognize her surroundings. But that was hardly out of the ordinary since most nights she found herself not remembering what she had done. It was also clear that she

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wasn’t at Snow’s since wherever she was was far too clean. Though she still felt a little off, she was careful as she moved—remembering the last time she had woken up like this—climbing to her feet, frowning down at the mattress in the middle of the floor at her feet. Sheets covered it, clean from the looks of them, but besides the mattress, there was nothing else in the room. She looked down at herself, pulling at the bottom of the shirt she wore, trying to read the front, but it was nearly faded to the point of not showing at all. Somehow, her dress was gone, and her hair was damp. Weird. She ran her fingers over the faded type, positive that she had seen Luka in something similar. And she was prone to wishful thinking sometimes when it came to him, but she thought it smelled like him, too.

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Looking around, she took in her surroundings, but she didn’t think, even with the hazy memory, that she had been here before. She could tell she wasn’t with Snow at the very least. It was far too empty and lacked the smell of a pack of men who lived together. Heading into the bathroom, she raided the cabinets, finding a small bottle of Listerine that she desperately needed to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth. After, she splashed her face with water, feeling moderately better, but not nearly as well as she’d hoped. Leaving the room, she took in as much as she could, hoping that she might find something, even just a picture that would help her understand whose place this was. A narrow hallway led to a staircase toward the end of it, two other rooms on this floor. There were no pictures or anything

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particularly noteworthy that spoke of who lived here. It all just felt…barren. The walls had been patched up in certain spots, the white paint standing out amongst the muted cream, and it was pretty clear that the house was being renovated. The living room was very much the same, appearing as though it was in the middle of repairs. There wasn’t even any furniture. “Hello?” No answer came. Nor did she hear footsteps announcing someone’s approach. Alex turned a corner, heading toward the kitchen where she could smell food cooking. There were an assortment of pots and pans on the six-burner range, all housing bubbling ingredients. Alex was tempted to have a look, but the back door came crashing open, and a rather large dog bounded in, his eyes darting to her as she jumped in surprise.

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It was a Husky, if she wasn’t mistaken, with gray and white fur, eyes the same pale blue as Luka’s. The way its eyebrows arched over its eyes made it look demonic, as if it was plotting on how best to chew her arm off and make it into a new toy, but its tail wagged back and forth. Maybe it was a happy killer? Luka came bursting in behind it, shaking the snow out of his hair as he closed and locked the door. When he noticed her standing there, his expression went from open to closed, giving nothing away. With her, there was always something in his eyes, whether anger, annoyance, and on the rare occurrence, playful joy, but now…nothing. And while she usually disregarded that, she felt, even though he had yet to say a word to her, that he was upset with her. If she had to assume, then it had to do with Snow because, if nothing else, she remembered going to him the night before.

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Was that the night before or just a few hours? She didn’t even know what time it was. Shit. Where was her phone? “Luka, where—” “You hungry?” he asked cutting her off and gesturing to the stove with a nod of his head. Not when her stomach was threatening to turn in on itself… “Not really, but I’m—” “Give me a sec. Gotta feed Loki.” He stepped around her, going over to a corner of the kitchen that had a rather large dog bed and two silver bowls resting beside it. He filled one with water from a jug he pulled from the refrigerator and the other with wet dog food. Alex had never taken him for much of a pet person, not when he was rarely home, but it was obvious that he loved the dog—was its name Loki?—from the way he had

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scratched behind its ears before he let him eat. Maybe he was watching him for a friend? “Is this your dog?” she asked looking back and forth between them. “Yep. Name’s Loki.” Of course. Luka didn’t have any friends who weren’t a part of the Bratva. Alex smiled, looking over at Loki. “I didn’t take you much for a comics guy. Where’d you get him?” “He came over with me from…” But he trailed off, his jaw tightening for a moment. Had he not meant to tell her that? “From Albania, you mean? Did you find him, or did your parents buy him for you?” At this point, she was just trying to make conversation, not just because she wanted to know more about him, but also because she wanted to avoid the talk that she knew would

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come once he told her why she was here with him. He seemed to fight an internal battle with himself before he answered her. “I don’t know where he came from, just showed up one day. The place where I found him…the dogs there had been trained to fight and were all massive. He hadn’t stood a chance against them. Had anyone known he was in there, they would have put him down… I just kind of adopted him. He’s been my companion ever since.” Something about the way he told the story made Alex think there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t in any place to push him for more. Done with his food, Loki trotted over to her, sniffing her hand as she extended it to him. When he deemed her ‘okay,’ he even let her pet him. “Did angry ol’ Luka save your life?” And with all the conviction in the world, Luka answered, “No, he saved mine.”

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Not knowing how to respond to that, she kept quiet, until the silence was too much. “Is this your place?” “Yeah.” That was it. That was all he said. “How long have you lived here?” “Three years, give or take.” He shrugged, turning toward the stove as he lifted a lid and glanced in. She decided to ignore his bad mood, going over to a window and peering out, trying to gauge where they were in the city, but there was only darkness and trees, nothing more she could make out. Apparently, he lived in the middle of nowhere. “Where are we?” He faced her, folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t relaxed, not in the slightest, though he tried very hard to make it seem like he was. Alex couldn’t explain it,

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the way he was trying to look non-threatening, how he was so careful with his movements, but there was something about the way he was acting that bothered her. Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you know where I found you last night?” The only thing she knew for sure was that she had been with Snow, but she didn’t know if she had left that place because it wouldn’t have made sense that Luka found her there, not when he hadn’t even known where she’d gone. “Did I call you to pick me up or something? If I did, sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” What day of the week was it? Was that why he was acting so weird, because she had interrupted one of his weekly sessions? He didn’t respond for a long time, his attention focused back on what he was making on the stove. Sensing that something was

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troubling him—and not wanting to get into it with him about Snow—Alex left him to it, looking at the dog that was still studiously by her side, watching her as though he were the one trying to figure her out. Besides being kind of massive, the beast actually seemed rather friendly, and when she stuck out her hand to pet him again, she smiled when he practically forced her to pet him. Even when she pulled her hand away, he pushed his head right back under, looking up at her with big eyes. She had never owned a pet, not that she had given them much thought with how busy she was, even during her childhood, so the likelihood of it being cared for the way it should have was slim. But the thought of having a companion did make her feel like she had missed out on something that could have potentially been fun.

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Judging from the sheer size of this one, Luka must have had him for a long time. “You didn’t have to call me, Alex.” “Then why were you there?” This didn’t make sense to her, not in the slightest. She was sure she had never mentioned Snow to anyone, so there was no way he could have known about that, at least not from her. The only other scenario she could think of was that Mishca might have had her followed, but if he had, he would have told her about it at the very least. “I had a drop—your brother’s orders, by the way. Got there, saw you, and you were ready to leave, so you left with me.” That didn’t sound nearly plausible…or was it? Shit, she couldn’t remember anything. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk while we eat. So, make yourself at home.”

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He made the comment offhandedly, as though he weren’t paying attention to their conversation anymore, and not knowing what was eating at him—only knowing that something was brewing beneath the surface—she didn’t push it. Climbing up on one of the barstools, her toes barely reaching the floor, she drummed her fingers on the surface of the counter, waiting for him to finish, and maybe then he would be ready to talk. It didn’t take long, and she wasn’t sure how long he had actually been doing this, but once the burners were off and he had two plates ladened with food, he nodded his head in the direction of the stairs, indicating for her to follow him back up to the room she had woken up in. Now that she at least knew where she was, she finally asked, “Is this your room or a guest room?”

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If it was a guest room, then that would explain why he hadn’t really decorated or even put forth any effort into it. There wasn’t even a proper bed. “Mine.” While there was something peculiar about the way he was acting, she still willingly entered his room, sitting back on the mattress since there were no chairs in the room…or anything else, for that matter. He handed her a plate, then a knife and fork, taking his own seat across from her, but as he closed the door before he came over, she couldn’t help but notice that the door didn’t lock from the inside. On her plate, the food looked amazing. Fish with a mustard sauce on a bed of wilted kale and a side of asparagus. She had never gotten to personally benefit from his talents, but Lauren had told her all about it. And tonight, she was definitely benefiting, even if she wasn’t all that hungry.

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Stabbing a piece of asparagus, she twirled the fork in her hand. “Are you going to finally tell me what’s up, or do I need to guess?” “Answer one question for me.” “Sure.” “What are you on?” Her pulse raced, even as she looked away from his probing gaze. “What are you talking about?” “I’m not going to lie. This shit could have been over had I really paid attention—that’s my bad. I thought you were just drunk off your ass. I didn’t like it, the drinking until your senses were impaired, but what the fuck could I say? I had no claim on you, and you made it pretty clear you weren’t going to be reasonable about anything I asked of you. “Then last night… I wasn’t lying when I said I had a drop for Mish. I was lying when I said that you wanted to leave with me.

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Yeah, I promised to never lie to you,” he said at the look on her face, “but there was a chance that if I told you the truth downstairs, you would have walked out of my place…and I couldn’t have that.” “Luka, what the fuck…you’re not making any sense.” “You were so high last night that you didn’t even notice when I walked through their fucking compound.” He was gazing off, as if he remembered exactly what she was afraid to hear. “That only told me that you couldn’t have known that the little shit who you were with was undressing you in front of everybody, one hand down that pathetic excuse for a fucking dress.” Alex swallowed, now feeling the irritation rolling off him in waves. Setting her plate down, she moved away from him. “Oh, did I upset you?” he asked in a falsely sweet voice, those hard blue eyes of

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his now trained on her. “Imagine what the fuck it did to me.” “Whatever.” She got to her feet, heading for the door, but as she turned the knob, it didn’t budge. “What the fuck are you doing, Luka?” “We’re going to stay in here for a bit and hash this shit out. Oh, yeah. And you’re going to detox for a bit. You probably feel fine now, but once you come down, it’s going to be a bitch. Trust me.” “Are you out of your mind? You can’t keep me here!” He smiled, and she saw the exact look that she knew he gave to those he meant to intimidate. “Who’s going to stop me?” “Luka, you can’t.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to get you through it.”

18 ____ Ultimatums He’d seen addiction back during his time with Bastian. He had seen the effects of it on the men who shot up before entering the Pit and even the women who Bastian bought for the men. Mostly, he remembered the one girl with the stringy black hair who’d lain across the desk as Bastian stood behind her, shoving his way into her body as she remained still in front of him. To this day, he still didn’t know whether she had still been alive at the time. The thought of Alex like that with Snow only managed to piss him off more, and earlier, after she’d passed out

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when he carried her from the shower, the walls of his bathroom had suffered the worst of his rage. Whether Alex was ready to confront the issue or not, he was going to get to the root of whatever problem she had and resolve it, even if he had to break her in the process, but ultimately, he didn’t believe he would. She was strong, stronger than most gave her credit for, and he needed to remind her of that. “So, what? You plan on keeping me here, like as your captive?” she asked slowly, her words dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t think that’s going to go the way you want. There’s that little thing where you work with my brother.” If she thought that was going to be the thing that changed his mind, then she didn’t know him at all. While she had been passed out for hours, he’d prepared for this very reaction. Already, he had a case of water in the

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closet, not to mention enough food to last them…not that he thought she was going to be eating much. “Wouldn’t be the first time I disappeared,” he answered evenly. “What does that mean?” She snapped her fingers before he could answer. “Oh, right. You’re not going to tell me. And why is it so hot in here?” It probably wasn’t as hot as she thought it was, but he had turned down the air, and even taped up the cracks in the window to make sure they retained the most heat in the room as possible. “Whatever the fuck you’ve been taking—and I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you don’t know either—has to come out somehow.” “It’s not that serious, Luka. Okay, maybe I went a little overboard yesterday, but it’s not like I’m a junkie. And it sure doesn’t warrant this.”

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Abandoning his own plate, he crossed the room to her. “Yeah? So, tell me, who’s Snow?” Her eyes were glimmering, and he could see the moment when she thought of lying to him, but then thought better of it. “Just a guy I know.” She frowned. “Is that what this is about? You saw me with a guy and now you’re in your feelings about it?” “Did you fuck him?” She rolled her eyes at him, but her lack of an answer told him everything he needed to know. “You don’t know, do you?” He waited until he saw the confirmation in her eyes, a look that infuriated him. “That’s what my problem is. I let you have your space, but now you’ve got my undivided attention.” “The problem is,” she shot back. “I don’t want it.”

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He smiled, though it wasn’t friendly in the slightest. “Too late.” Gritting her teeth, she shook her hair back out of her face, staring up at him, trying to muster every last bit of courage that she had. “You can’t force me to stay here, Luka. You don’t own me.” "I’ll only say this shit once. You’re going to sit your ass down, and we’re going to figure this shit out. Because if we’re being honest, you only have three options. "One, you go out that window behind you. If we pretend that I didn’t nail it shut, then you could open it up and climb out, except we’re on the second floor and you’d more than likely break something in your pretty ass if you jumped out of it. Second, you go through me to break down the door, but I’ll warn you now babe, you’d have better luck at the window.” With the way he was speaking, the Russian inflections to his words were

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slipping away, and now she was hearing pieces of him that he had obviously carefully buried. “Third, you could use your phone, but…” He held it up, shaking it back and forth as her mouth dropped open, her hands automatically going to her body though she could quite clearly see he held it. “One problem with that scenario, your phone’s broke.” At that moment, he launched the phone across the room, sending it flying against the wall where the glass screen splintered. To make matters worse, he walked over to it, picking it up just to see if it was working before dropping it back down and sending his boot down on top of it. There was definitely no way she could use it now. “Have you completely lost your fucking mind, Luka!” She didn’t even bother trying to see if her phone was salvageable. She could tell from that distance that it wasn’t.

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Luka went back to his food, seeming calmer now than he had before. “Now that I have your attention, how about you sit, we eat, and then hash this shit out. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for this food to go to waste.” Seeing no other option for the time being, she did what he asked, at least partially, taking her seat on the mattress, but she faced away from him, using her fork to push the food around on her plate. She’d had worse odds, she thought. As long as she could wait out whatever he was going through, she could get back to her life and this would all be over. _____ She was unequivocally, irrevocably fucked. At some point, she had fallen asleep, her food left abandoned on the floor beside her, but when she roused shortly after, and saw that Luka was still up, this time twirling a knife like it was an Olympic sport, she

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knew that she had underestimated him. It wasn’t that he was doing anything in particular, only that he was making it a point to stay in front of the door, and now, a slight pinch was in her gut that hadn’t been there before. Or at least she thought it hadn’t been there. Pushing herself off the floor, ignoring the way her arm shook, she asked, “What time is it?” “Nine.” “How long have I been asleep?” “Eight minutes, give or take a few seconds.” Irritated, she looked away from him, rubbing her arms. “Were you watching me sleep? You know, that’s not weird at all.” “You should go back to sleep. It might help your attitude.” “Or maybe you could let me out of this room! That would do wonders for my fucking attitude.”

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He flipped his knife closed, setting it on the floor beside him as he leaned that blond head of his back against the door. “Someone’s in a mood.” There was not an insult good enough to say to him as she headed for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her, pushing in the lock on the knob. The door itself didn’t seem very sturdy, and if she had to guess, he’d probably be able to kick it in if he wanted, but for the moment, she let the allusion of privacy soothe her nerves. Using the bathroom, she washed her hands after, staring at her reflection in the mirror—a habit for her nowadays, it seemed—and tried to get herself together. This was just a game, some twisted attempt to get under her skin. Soon, he would grow bored and let her out, if only so he could get back to his weekly rituals with Natasha. That thought both made her feel better and annoyed her.

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Refusing to stay hidden away, she rejoined him, but only after she grabbed the mattress and pulled it across the floor to the opposite side of where he was sitting. If he was serious about doing this… She glanced over in his direction, noting the way he didn’t look bothered in the slightest. This was going to be a long night. ____ Pacing the floor, Alex tried to remember what she had ever liked about Luka. Ever. He was happily laying on his back, watching her every move as though he knew that she was slowly starting to crack. The urge to take her mind off this ridiculous situation rode her hard, and that familiar pinch in her gut only made it worse. And that, coupled with the way Luka was so easily unaffected, only made her angrier.

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When she looked at him again, he smirked. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” She was going to get the hell out of there, no matter what he said. ____ Her breakdown came slow and steady, another piece of her chipping off and drifting away. She’d tried to hold on for as long as she could, tried to prove that she was in control of what she’d been doing, but as he watched, he watched her spiral in a way that made his chest ache. But even still, she didn’t admit that she needed help. Luka stuck to his side of the room, giving her as much space as she could want. He leaned his head back against the wall, his arms resting on his upraised knees. At first, she had been lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for long minutes, his lips moving soundlessly as she counted the lines spiraling out. Then, she got to her feet,

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pretending to explore what little there was in his room, lingering in the closet where his clothes were mostly hanging, some in piles on the floor. The bathroom was next, then peering out the window though there was hardly anything to see since his bedroom was in the back of the house, and when she had exhausted all of her options, she returned to the bed, dropping down onto it in a huff. Hours passed this way, and only when she passed out once more did he leave the room and head for the kitchen, grabbing something for her to eat, having forgotten it earlier. Two cases of bottled water and enough supplies to last them a couple of days, he was ready for the long haul, even if she wasn’t. It was only when restlessness turned to annoyance, and annoyance turned to desperation did things really start to change, and it was only when she was at the very edge did Alex actually show any

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vulnerability. He had been waiting on this, the moment when it would start becoming too much for her. For a while, Luka had thought he could handle this, having always thought that she appeared so strong. But despite what he felt for her, no matter how strongly those feelings were, he forced them to the back of his mind, willing himself to do what needed to be done. He knew what needed to be done. Even if it hurt her, he had to do what he had to do. No one knew the burden he carried, nor how easy it was for him to turn that moral compass of his off so he could do what others couldn’t. He was willing to hurt her if that meant to help her. Luka didn’t think he had ever seen her so expressive, everything she was feeling and thinking there for him to see all over her face. That careful mask she kept in place was gone now. He knew better than anyone the toll it took to keep everything bottled inside,

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suffering silently so as not to burden others with the pain, but now he wanted her pain. He wanted to take that from her. He wasn’t a good person. He didn’t really deserve nice things, but she did. And he wanted her to be happy. To be free. But he had yet to get to the heart of the issue. So many things could weigh on her, especially in the lives they led. He just wanted her to confess it to him, if to no one else. “Alex…” When he said her name, she flinched, her eyes squeezing shut. Like it was a physical blow that wounded her. “I just need to get out of here,” she whispered, more to herself than him. That desperation, tinged with a little bit of anger, was back. “Please…Luka, I just need to go.” He would have given her the world if she’d asked for it, but this…this, he couldn’t. So many answers came to him, variations on

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how to let her down gently, but she didn’t need that right now. “No.” She didn’t want that answer, making her jump to her feet in a flurry of motion. Completely ignoring him, she walked toward the door and reached for the handle, but he was faster, intercepting her. Even if she had wanted to, he’d switched the locks on the bedroom door where it locked from the inside, and he had the key safely tucked away in his pocket. When he reached for her, she lurched back, and he could see the exact moment when the anger was taking over, could sense the fight rising in her. But that was good because at least then he knew the Alex he used to know and care for was in there somewhere. She made a move to get around him, but he blocked her again, this time reaching to steady her when she stumbled a bit. That

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was the catalyst. The moment he touched her, innocent enough as he captured her wrists when she was falling backward, she jerked free of his hold and swung. He allowed the first hit, her open palm connecting against his face, enough that he felt the sting when she pulled away to do it again, but no matter how many times she hit him, it didn’t seem to be enough. The more she tried to fight him, trying to forcibly remove him, the more she grew agitated, vocalizing her frustrations. No matter how he held her, or at least tried to grab her, she still found a way to hit him, her knee coming up so fast that he had barely blocked it. “Alex, for fuck’s sake! Calm down!” She shoved away from him and he let her. In that short span of time, she had hit him more than he’d ever allowed anyone to, but he hadn’t felt the slightest urge to hurt her in return.

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“Fuck you! I don’t need your help. I don’t even want it. When did you start giving a shit anyway? I’m sure your prostitute is waiting for you somewhere.” He didn’t know what it was about that little speech that pissed him off. He’d been doing a good job of keeping a leash on his temper up until that point, but then he just snapped. Her eyes widened as she took a step back, but even in the height of his anger, he would never hurt her. Luka’s arm snapped forward, his thumb on one side of her neck, his fingers on the other, and he pulled her forward, with a small amount of force. She tried to look down, away from his probing gaze, but he wasn’t allowing that. “Look. At. Me.” He could tell that she wanted kindness, someone to take the pain away as the drugs had done for the short amount of time

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she had been using them—at least this go round he had learned—but Luka couldn’t give her that. He couldn’t pretend like he didn’t know that she was slowly killing herself. And he knew, at least he thought he knew, what was eating at her the most, and the only way she could heal from it was if she finally faced it instead of trying to run away. Even if this whole process was going to be grueling, she was going to have to face it, except she wouldn’t be alone. She had jolted at his words, and he immediately softened his tone. “Look at me.” When she finally did, her eyes watering, tears ready to slip over, he knew the worst of her anger had bled away at the face of his, but he didn’t doubt for a second that it would be back. As soon as he felt like he had her complete and undivided attention, he said the words that were burning to get out of him. “It’s going to hurt. You’re going to hate me.”

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His grip was still firm on her. “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.” He was tempted, tempted to tell her how he really felt, but it wasn’t time for that, not yet. ____ Over the last hour, she had quieted, besides the constant movement that put Luka on edge. He was nervous, not sure what she was capable of in her current state. He didn’t want to hurt her, even as that was exactly what he was currently doing, but as of yet, the need for him to restrain her hadn’t come. Loki had come around the door, whining, trying to get his paw beneath the door as though that would help him get it open, but had given up soon after, dropping his weight onto the floor as he laid there. An observer by nature, Luka had merely watched her as she was lost in her own mind, wondering what she was thinking

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about that made her oblivious to him. He had wondered, for some time, which part of her fucked-up life was the reason for this recent descent into drugs. He hadn’t minded the alcohol, not really. Everyone had their vices, but whether she wanted him to or not, he’d needed to step in and fix the problem. She might not have thought it had taken over her life, but addicts rarely did. If he had to guess, then this had something to do with Anya. Mikhail had been gone too long for him to be a factor, not to mention the fact that she rarely brought him up. That wasn’t to say that the way he treated her hadn’t played a part in her misery, but that hadn’t gotten under her skin the way Anya had. There was something there that Luka didn’t know about, and probably had something to do with the day that Alex had gone over to meet with her and ultimately had killed her.

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She lived amongst people who killed without remorse, it was just their way of life, but up until that night, Alex had remained untouched by the brutality of the Bratva life. Luka saw plenty of faces when he closed his eyes at night, more than a dozen at least, but he knew there was only one that plagued her. Unlike the men he’d put in the ground, she’d had a relationship with Anya. It didn’t matter that he might have thought Anya was a bitch, had even thought about silencing her so Mishca wouldn’t have to, but she had still been Alex’s mother. “Have you ever done something you regret?” Alex’s question brought Luka out of his thoughts. She was looking at him with such sad and broken eyes that it was almost hard for him to maintain that contact. He knew what she was really asking, but in that regard, he had none. There was no one he’d killed who hadn’t deserved it or

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had intended to kill him. Did he have other regrets? Plenty. Though the truth was different, he lied to her because it was what she needed. “Yes.” Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes. “There was no blood, you know—well, of course you know. You probably had to clean it up, get rid of everything.” She paused, as if she’d expected him to deny that. When he remained silent, she went on. “A friend of mine sold me GHB the night before, so I guess I can’t say I didn’t think about what I was going to do. I mean I knew that it was going to happen eventually, right? Even without the whole mercenary business, she’d embarrassed Mikhail. She had caused so much damage that it was a surprise to me that she wasn’t already dead.” Laughing, though it sounded forced and full of pain, Alex wiped a tear from her face, finally looking at him. Actually looking

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at him. There it was, the brokenness, the one thing he had hoped never to see in her. “She was a bitch, always, to everyone. Even me. Especially to me now that I think about it. Everything was always a competition for her. She had to look the best, wear the best clothes, and eat the best food. It didn’t really matter that I was her daughter. To her, I was just another person potentially standing in her way.” He had felt it before he saw it, the way her sadness was taking her over, bleeding into her words. He understood what it was like running from a memory that haunted you, and when there was nowhere left to go, he knew what would happen once it consumed you. She fought it for several moments, but the moment that first tear fell, it was as if she broke open. She was sobbing, her words nearly incoherent, but she forced them out,

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and Luka made it a point not to interrupt and just listen. “But she was my mom and I loved her,” she said sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You understand that, don’t you?” Her voice broke when she asked that question, her eyes searching him for the answer she needed. Seeing her like this was a different kind of torture he’d never experienced. “You can still love a person who hates you. She didn’t even want me. I was just another way for her to solidify her place. She was going to kill me without hesitation—” “But you love her still,” Luka said softly. She cried, with everything in her, and Luka couldn’t just sit and watch her. He wanted to hold her, take that pain away, but she hit him, trying to push him away, and with the first hit came another. And another. And soon, she was on her feet, slapping and punching him.

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He dropped his arms, taking the onslaught, willing to do anything to help her, and if this was what it took, she could beat the shit out of him and he would accept it. It went on for some time until she was too tired to swing again. Then she just cried for hours, and only then did she finally let him pull her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. Now that she wasn’t fighting him, he lifted her off her feet, bringing them down to the floor, maneuvering her until she was sitting comfortably in his lap, her legs wrapped around him. He held her until she finally passed out, too exhausted to do anything more. Luka didn’t move an inch, too afraid of jostling her and waking her up. After being up for nearly twenty-four hours, she needed the sleep. Stroking her back, he wished he could take every bad memory from her and take it on himself.

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Pain and misery usually excited him, inspired him to break someone further, but never with her. He didn’t think he wanted to see anyone smile as much as he wanted it for her. He’d been content before, keeping his desires in check, letting her be free of what he wanted, but something turned on in him. Or it might have already been on and he was just now tired of fighting it. It wasn’t like she was the only constant in his life over the years working within the Volkov Bratva. But he couldn’t think of anyone who made his heart beat the way she did, nor how she made him feel like he was more than his past. Luka would give anything to bring her back to life.

19 ___ Just A Little More She grew weaker by the hour, and soon, she could do no more than lay there shivering. Despite sweating bullets, she felt colder than she ever had in her entire life. She wasn’t even able to muster the energy to turn over when she felt the bed dip beside her, still waiting for the throbbing in her stomach to stop. When his hand landed on her shoulder, she winced. Even that small contact was painful. “You gotta drink something, Alex,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

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She shook her head, not wanting to risk moving any further in case the skullsplitting headache she’d been suffering through only got worse. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt this much pain, not even when she had been dancing nonstop for three days. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Carefully shifting her, not that it was hard since she barely had the energy to put up a fight, he supported her head as he gingerly pressed the bottle to her lips, tipping it up just far enough that a light stream of liquid fell into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, but it only made her feel worse, so when he tried to give her more, she turned away. “Just a little more,” he said softly. But she had already fallen under. ____ Her body wracked with chills, it didn’t matter what she did, she couldn’t fight the

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chill that had consumed her. Now that she wasn’t trying to fight Luka to escape the room—no matter how badly that urge ate at her with every passing minute—Alex was laying on the bed, facing away from him, listening to the rain patter against the window. It could be worse, her prison. Every day—at least this was what she thought he did—Luka left the room, attended to Loki, and brought back food, enough to last them the day. Only once had she woken up and he wasn’t in the room, but when she had tried the door, it was locked, which was surprising since she hadn’t noticed a deadbolt on the outside of the door, though it wasn’t like she was conscious coming in here. Luka was on the other side of the room, shirt off, his back against the wall, an unopened bottle of Gatorade next to him. A number of empty ones littered the floor, the only thing he seemed to drink besides water. In the time they had been inside that room,

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he had been forcing them on her as well, though she had never really taken a liking to the energy drink before now. She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was watching her. He had been doing it enough for her to practically feel his gaze. Squeezing her eyes shut, Alex tried to ignore the pain in her gut, the way her hands shook uncontrollably, no matter if she balled them into fists, and the sweat that practically covered every inch of her. It didn’t matter that the heat was on and she was buried under a mound of covers, nothing helped. She ground her teeth, trying to stop their chattering, but with the silence of the room, there wasn’t much she could do to help it. The old wood creaked as Luka got to his feet, and she briefly wondered if he’d had enough, but instead, he came closer, crawling onto the bed, the covers briefly lifting as he slipped beneath.

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His arm came over immediately, snaking around her waist, pulling her back against his body. She probably smelled and was undoubtedly gross, but there was no fight left in her. Her eyes watered, her emotions out of whack as she tried not to read too much into what he was doing, but it was hard. “Want to hear a story?” he asked, his voice lacking any emotion. Not sure where he was going with this, she nodded anyway. “I knew a guy once, some thought he was a sociopath, but no one knew him the way I did. I even thought that eventually, somebody was gonna have to put a bullet in his head once he was too far gone. One day, he met a girl—nice enough with pretty eyes—but he wasn’t good for her. He broke everything he touched, you see—I’d watched him do it. Fuck, I tried warning him to leave her alone, but he couldn’t. He was just glad

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that he had met someone who was kind to him, even if she had been forced to be around him.” Luka shifted, pulling her in tighter though there was hardly any space left between them. Alex didn’t complain. “I could have tried harder to make him see reason, just so he could understand what he was doing and how it wouldn’t just affect him, but the girl as well. Two broken people like that? They were practically perfect for each other, but I think…I think a part of him knew that it would never work because of the power difference between them. Even when she confessed her love to him, he didn’t believe her. He knew it wasn’t real for her, even if it was real for him. “For a time though, he didn’t care. He liked living in that illusion. Because to admit that he was nothing more than a weapon…it would ruin everything.”

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Luka took a breath. “She meant everything to him then, but he had meant everything to someone else. And that someone else didn’t like how he was spending his time. But he couldn’t touch him, of course—they took it out on her instead.” Luka grew quiet again, his hand clenching on her stomach. She reached for it, feeling the tension in him, but she didn’t stop, interlocking their fingers, offering what little support she could. While he might not have ever showed vulnerability, he hurt for his friend, and she wanted to comfort him as best as she could. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped shaking as soon as he’d started speaking. “It was fucking brutal what they did to her and one side of me…shit, one side of me understands why they did it. They wanted to break him again, teach him a lesson and make him into a bigger monster than he already was, but they didn’t understand what

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love could do to a person. They might have taught him that love came at a price, but they brought back his humanity in the process. For that, he would always be grateful, but because they hurt her, the one person who made him human again, they were nothing to him.” “What happened to her?” Alex asked, watching as the rain came in a slow drizzle. “I don’t know.” She wanted to turn and face him, read the emotions in his eyes, but she didn’t want to break the moment between them. “And your friend? What happened to him?” “Escaped the life and learned to hide his monsters.” Sighing, Alex shook her head. “I’m sorry you lost your friend.” “Don’t be. Everything happens for a reason.” “And the men? Did he kill them? That’s what you would do.”

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She felt him shaking with silent laughter. “Maybe, but as far as I know, he only got to one of them, the other is still out there somewhere.” “Hopefully he gets to him.” “Unless somebody else beats him to it.” “Can I ask you one more question?” “Of course.” “What was your friend’s name?” Luka was quiet for so long that she feared he wasn’t going to answer, but so quietly, almost so that she didn’t hear him, he said, “Valon. His name was Valon.”

20 ____ Awake Every couple of hours, she woke up in a daze, her stomach hurting, her eyes watering, but before she could become too out-ofsorts, Luka was there, his much larger body curled around hers, providing heat that she didn’t know she needed until then. It was hard to tell where she ended and he began since their legs were tangled together. His arms wrapped securely around her as though he thought she would slip away, and at some point during the night, she had grabbed hold of his hand, twining

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their fingers, hanging on as though she were the one who was afraid to let go. The cravings never stopped. The need for pills was stronger than ever. But it almost seemed like he could read her mind because any time she felt the urge to get out of there, he held on tighter. He was her anchor. _____ After four days of constantly hovering, making sure that she didn’t attempt to leave the room, Alex wasn’t surprised that Luka was passed out, and while he normally heard everything, she’d gone back and forth to the bathroom and walked around him enough times to know that he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Now, she was finally awake and could bring herself to move around. For a while, she had sat as he’d done, watching him sleep, feeling terrible because even as he slept, he looked stressed. Truly,

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he looked exhausted, and there was no one to blame but herself. While the door might have been locked—and she had no idea what he had done with the key—she checked the knob before pulling two bobby pins from her hair. She still knew a few tricks. A little rusty, it took her a bit longer before she was able to pop the lock and twist the handle, the door swinging open. Loki was laying on the other side, but when he saw her coming out, he perked right up, his tail thumping wildly. Alex shushed him, scratching behind his ears for a brief second before she headed for the bathroom on the first level. Since the laundry room was right across the hall, she grabbed some of his clothes along with a towel. Peeling off the T-shirt that felt utterly gross, she cut on the shower, waiting for the

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water to heat up before she stepped inside, pulling the curtain closed. Though showering seemed like a good idea when she’d first thought of it, by the time she finished washing her hair and scrubbing herself clean—she would have liked to stay in there for at least another hour—exhaustion was quick to set in. She was contemplating just sitting under the spray when the curtain was wrenched open and she gave a startled shout at the sight of Luka standing on the other side. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, but that didn’t diminish the intensity of his gaze. “Jesus, Luka. You scared the shit out of me!” Covering herself as best she could, it didn’t seem to help much. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was baring all to him. Maybe she was, in more ways than she thought.

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“Sorry.” But he didn’t sound like he truly meant that. Though he had every right to be suspicious of her, she still felt indignant as she blatantly held her hands up, wiggling her fingers at him. “Just taking a shower. No pills or anything.” For the briefest of moments, he wasn’t focused on her empty hands or the sardonic tone of her voice. Instead, his gaze was intent on every part of her that she had just revealed. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her naked, not even the second, but the way he blinked made her feel like it was all over again. Those other times, it didn’t really feel like he had actually taken notice of her nudity, now it was as if he was finally seeing her. It didn’t matter that he looked exhausted. He was still reacting to her. Only when she cleared her throat did he finally look back up at her face, but there was no apology in his eyes, not even close.

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“I need clothes.” She gestured back at the sink where she’d set them. “Meet me in the kitchen.” He fisted the towel, tossing it at her without looking back as he headed out of the steamy bathroom, leaving the door open in his wake. Even if she weren’t naked, she still would have felt raw after the last few days, and in her current condition, she was in no mood to fight with him about this. She dried off in a hurry, pulling on his shirt that was about two sizes too big and a pair of shorts that she had to roll a few times at the waist to keep them up. Despite how they swallowed her, they were pretty comfortable. In the kitchen, Luka was at the stove, knives in hand as he turned on one of the burners. There was a carton of eggs resting on the counter, along with a few other ingredients. He knew the moment she entered, his head turning just the slightest when she

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walked in. The back door was cracked, and since Alex didn’t see Loki trotting around the kitchen, she headed in that direction, stepping out into the backyard. She’d figured that he lived in the middle of nowhere considering no one had called the police when she was screaming bloody murder that first night, but she had seriously underestimated the seclusion in which Luka lived. There were just woods behind his house, as far as the eye could see. There was a bird soaring through the sky, Loki bounding behind it, jumping every so often to try to catch it. On his third attempt, he finally nabbed it with a paw. Alex cringed, calling out to him before he could kill the poor thing. Seeing her, he came running back to her at full speed, nearly knocking her down as he plowed into her, hot breath on her face. She laughed, trying to shove him off even as

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she rubbed his head. Luka might not have been in a good mood, but Loki was. Luka’s gaze went from her to Loki, then back again as they reentered the house. Whatever he’d been making at the stove was now plated and waiting for her at the island. It was odd. Alex was starting to notice that when he cooked for her, while he made more than enough for the pair of them, he never ate with her. He waited until she was set up in front of the food, a knife and fork in hand, before he started speaking. “How are you feeling?” That was such a loaded question. Was it possible to feel utterly exhausted, but to still feel good? She felt lighter than she had before, like less of a weight was bearing down on her, but she also felt like she’d been repeatedly run over by a car. “Fine.”

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He leaned his weight on his arms, the veins in them standing out. Despite not having been up more than half an hour, he already looked wired. “Can you eat?” She nodded, though she wasn’t quite sure if this was true or not. Even so, she left the omelet for the moment, picking up a strawberry. When she bit into it, she was pleasantly surprised by the taste, especially since the fruit wasn’t in season. The silence between them was strained, and while Alex longed to break it, she didn’t know how. She was embarrassed, and now that her mind was clear enough for her to remember just how bad her actions were over the last few weeks—it was slowly coming back to her—she didn’t know how she would ever look at Luka again. She had been so upset about him treating her like a child but hadn’t she been acting like one? Throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way, acting reckless just

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because she could. She even doubted that Mishca would have been so forgiving—especially about his car—if Luka hadn’t covered everything up, but that brought into question why exactly he was helping her conceal this from someone who was essentially his boss. When Luka’s phone began ringing, she jumped, looking down at it before looking to Luka. She couldn’t remember whether his phone had rung during their time in his bedroom, which was an oddity considering how often he was called out on jobs. Had he purposefully been ignoring it just so he could help her? That only made her feel worse. Luka abruptly stood up, circling the island until he was just beside her. His presence was every bit as overwhelming as it had always been, and even more so now that she could actually focus on it. He reached out, as if he was powerless to stop himself, hooking a lock of her hair

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behind her ear, his touch lingering there even after he had pulled away. There was no disappointment anymore, not even pity. Just a broken look that made her question how often she had been wrong when she’d thought he didn’t care for her. When his phone rang again, this time he didn’t ignore it, instead picking it up and reading the caller id. The disposable phone in his hand looked breakable, like it was just one squeeze away from being crumpled metal, but instead of crushing it, Luka finally took the call, holding up his finger as he left the room. Alex stayed at the counter, letting him have his privacy as she finished her breakfast. She did wonder, as anyone would, what kind of call it was. Mishca was more careful now than he had been before. Not to say that he wasn’t careful before, but extra

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precautions had been put in place since Vlad had turned out to be an undercover FBI Agent. He wasn’t gone for long, a few seconds at most, but in that short amount of time, the moment between them was broken. “I’ve gotta run. I won’t be gone long, but you’ll be on your own for a bit.” Despite how tired he obviously was, his gaze was intense as he held her face in both of his large hands, forcing her to look up at him. “Promise me you’ll stay here until I get back.” “Luka—” “Promise me.” She sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to let her go until she did. “I promise.” His shoulders visibly relaxed, but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity. Tilting her head down, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Take it easy. I’ll be back soon.”

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It was almost comforting in a way, watching him walk away, knowing that he believed in her enough that he didn’t think she would go out and try to find something. She had no intention of seeking out Snow, not after what Luka described, but knowing that he trusted her enough. No matter how small that trust was, it meant a lot to her. He let her go, glancing over at Loki with a sharp look that obviously was a silent command. While he went upstairs to change clothes, she finished her breakfast in silence except for the occasional movement of Loki. Alex was just rinsing her plate when Luka came back down, looking marginally better than he had before. He crossed the room, reaching to pull her toward him, surprising her as he enveloped her in his arms. He didn’t say anything, at least not with words, but the way he held her, his arms tight around her, told her everything that those words never could.

21 ____ Dead Bodies Luka couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so poorly…no, he could. The night he’d gone to the dive bar out in Brooklyn and had run into Bastian. That night had stuck with him for far longer than he expected because, while he’d thought to see any of them again—especially someone who had played such a big role in shaping who he was—would be easy since he wasn’t the same person he’d once been, that didn’t mean it didn’t have a residual effect on him. But even then, it had been easy compared to the last few days. Worry ate at him

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while he was awake and because of it, when he did actually pass out for the few minutes that he did, he was too wired to fall under. It was no wonder he’d finally clocked out this last night considering he’d been up for nearly seventy-two hours. He hadn’t even felt when Alex had moved from his side, and he was usually a light sleeper. When he’d finally woken up and saw the door open, panic gripped him, and he’d went storming out of that room as fast as his feet could carry him. He hadn’t meant to scare her when he’d kicked in the door, but her showering had been the last thing on his mind of possibilities of what she could be doing on the other side of that door. And worse, when he finally got his eyes on her, water streaming over every naked inch of her, drugs had gone right out of his mind. It wasn’t like he had never seen her naked before—once accidental, the other because she just wanted to get a reaction out of

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him—but like each time before, he had to remind himself why pursuing anything with her was a bad idea. Now more than ever. She didn’t need him taking advantage of her when she was obviously going through some shit. Now that there was a possibility that Fatos was hanging around, that only made things more complicated. But for a moment, as he stood there and looked at every part of her, a strong need to take her to his bed filled him. Even though he knew it was wrong, having those thoughts of her, he still couldn’t get the image out of his head and with it came a strong need. Before now, he had been successful in his attempts to stay away from her with a hell of a lot of effort, not to mention Natasha, but even when she crossed his mind, he couldn’t imagine going to her. How many nights had he lain awake thinking about what Alex was doing and who

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she was seeing. It plagued him constantly, but he had managed to be there for her without compromising her. It just wasn’t enough, and he knew, even if they hadn’t discussed it, that this was going to happen. Whether he wanted it to or not, the question was how long was he going to continue to fight it. “Get in here!” Mishca was obviously in a mood, but Luka was far too tired to try to talk his way out of it. He’d stayed off the grid for the last four days or so, helping Alex through the worst of her detoxing, but he could only avoid his boss for so long, and judging from the pissed off expression aimed his way, there was no doubt that Mishca knew about what happened at the compound. Luka stepped into the office, shoving a hand through his hair to push it back out of his face. The door was slammed and Mishca was in his face, fury bleeding out of him.

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“What the fuck were you thinking?” There was no point in trying to defend himself—not that he would have told Mishca the truth about what happened that night—because Mishca was on a roll. “Have you forgotten how this business works? We’ve had no problems with the Angels over the last five years, and I don’t want to start now. Whatever the fuck was said to piss you off, I don’t give a shit. Get a handle on your temper and get your shit together.” He guessed the prez of the Angels had told him about their little scuffle—or just made it clear he didn’t want to work with Luka again—but it was obvious he left out the reason behind it. Otherwise, he doubted they would be having this conversation. He took a breath, his gaze narrowing on Luka, looking him over. “What the hell happened to you?” “Had to work out a few things.” And that was the only thing he would say about

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that. “You made your point. What time are we leaving?” That muscle in Mishca’s jaw was still working, and it was clear that he still wasn’t happy, but they had work to do, so he was done for the moment. “There’s a meeting in Las Vegas I need to attend.” Luka followed behind Mishca as they left his office, glancing around at some of the new faces who were present. “Reason why you can’t bring one of the new muscle?” “Because I asked you to do it.” Luka felt a rush of irritation hit him, and before he could stop the impulse, he found himself saying, “I’m not a fucking child.” Mishca quirked a brow but didn’t offer a response. Biting his tongue, Luka said no more. This was going to be a long fucking trip. ___

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Five hours on a hunk of flying metal was not how Luka wanted to spend his morning, and though a headache pounded away behind his eyes, he didn’t take anything for it. The idea of taking any kind of drug, harmless or not, didn’t appeal to him at the moment. Mishca had calmed more during the flight, having talked to his wife earlier. Luka had remained silent, turning his phone over in his hands, both hoping and dreading his phone ringing. He still couldn’t think of anything but Alex as he wondered whether she was okay. If he could have, he would have stayed with her, given her more time to adjust besides the last three days. Hell, that was only enough time to shock her into doing what he wanted, if only to get out of that room with him. But he took comfort in the fact that even after he had passed out, and she’d left the room without him realizing, she hadn’t

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gone any further than the bathroom on the first floor of his house. That didn’t mean she was miraculously cured. The journey was still a long one, and there was the distinct possibility that it would never be over, but if there was one thing Luka knew, he would be there to help her through it. “You going to tell me who we’re meeting?” Luka asked, focusing his attention on Mishca, trying his hardest to keep his irritation at bay as he’d thought of their conversation earlier. He didn’t know what had crawled up the Russian’s ass, but he was too tired to deal with it. “Two syndicates, wanted to meet in neutral territory.” Luka gave him a droll stare. “That’s still not telling me shit.” Mishca, who looked to be grappling for patience, explained, “I have two nightclubs, Roman has a lounge, and you’ve

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probably heard of his tournaments that he holds every couple of months. Between the two of us—not to mention the sheer amount of land the Italians still have control over in Atlantic City—it’s more difficult to break ground without stepping on someone’s toes.” “So how much are they paying you?” “Why do you assume they’re paying me?” Rolling his eyes, Luka turned back around. “I might not have gone to a fancy boarding school, but if we’re flying out to meet them because one or both is trying to open their own spot, then obviously they’re coming into our territory. The only way they can do that is to pay the rent. Tell me, when the fuck did you get so condescending? I’m not some fucking yuppie.” “Just making sure you’ve been paying attention.” “What the fuck? I—”

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“You’re not always going to be the grunt,” Mishca snapped back at him, losing his own patience. “I won’t have anyone who can’t handle something as simple as an introduction standing at my side.” “Never asked to be at your side, Russian,” Luka said, pulling a page out of Klaus’ book. It wasn’t truly an insult, considering Mishca’s nationality, but the way he said it made it sound like one. “No? Then how exactly did you come to be here, Luka? Normally the Bratva chooses you, yet you sought it out. Why is that?” Something about the way he asked that question made Luka’s eye twitch. As curious as he might have sounded, his tone had a challenging bite that didn’t sit well with Luka. He couldn’t know the truth, more than half of the Albanians who had been involved on that day were dead—he didn’t want to think about Fatos—and if Klaus had

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already told him, they wouldn’t be sitting on the plane together. No, Mishca was probably just curious. “I had nothing else.” And that was as close to the truth as he could ever admit. Mishca was silent for a beat before he responded. “You’re smarter than most give you credit for. Learning a language just to impress a girl is a feat in itself—oh, don’t give me that look. Only a fucking idiot wouldn’t know why you learned French. I’m passable at best, but you can actually speak it,” Mishca said as he looked pointedly at him. “I know what you’re capable of. You’re crass, sure. Kto ne—Who isn’t? But you’re capable of more, and if you actually put forth an effort instead of trying to remain in the shadows, you’d make great captain material.” Luka shook his head. “And what if that’s not what I want?” “You’re content, then? Letting me boss you around?”

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No, he hated that shit. Luka had always had a problem with authority, and while Mishca wasn’t as bad as most, it still felt grating whenever he was called like a well-trained dog. Mishca smirked, already knowing the answer. “Whatever your reservations may be, it’s time for you to face whatever there is holding you back or I’ll do it for you.” Apparently finished with his speech, Mishca pulled out his phone, checking the time. The seat belt light flashed on and the pilot came over the intercoms to let them know they would be landing. Luka was glad. The plane was far too fucking small. ____ The hotel they arrived at was grand, as most were on the Strip. They passed through the crowds unnoticed. In part because there were dozens of others dressed in

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expensive suits, and also because they swept through security checkpoints with ease. Mishca did most of the talking, Luka hovering just behind him, looking every bit like the muscle he was supposed to be. Eventually, they reached a private room in the back of the casino where two heavily armed guards were waiting to check them for weapons. Mishca handed over the pearl-handled gun he always carried with him, but Luka shook his head before they ever bothered to reach for him. One, bolder than his friend, made a move as if he was about to pat him down and physically remove any weapon he had on him. “Touch me and you’ll lose your hand.” The hired muscle glared, thinking he could break Luka that way, but when that didn’t work, he looked to his comrade who touched a finger to his ear. Seconds later, they got a new command.

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Luka smirked as they moved out of his way. The room’s decor was flashy, appealing more to the businessmen who were seated in stuffed armchairs, cigars in hand. They stood in recognition of Mishca’s status, but when their gazes fell on Luka, there was a touch of disapproval. He could guess why. Though he and Mishca were both covered in tattoos, Luka’s were more blatant, and more than that was the fact that Luka was wearing jeans, and probably looked like he’d dressed in a hurry—which was true—and the three of them were in pressed suits that cost more than what Luka would pay for any item of clothing he owned. Not much he could do about that now. “Gentlemen,” Mishca greeted smoothly, taking one of the two seats available to them. “Let’s get started.”

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Luka tuned out most of the conversation, tapping his thumb against his thigh for the majority of it. This was another reason why he didn’t think moving any higher in the Bratva would work for him. This, sitting across from men who could be either allies or enemies depending on how the wind blew that day, and talking through proposals and deals and other useless shit he didn’t care about. All of that bored him. He liked the more hands-on aspect of the job. Maybe one day, a day very far in the future. If he had been more focused on present company instead of letting his thoughts drift to other things, he might have noticed the odd glances he was getting from one of the muscles standing off to the side who’d entered the room some minutes earlier. Instead, he was lost in thoughts, now thinking of what Alex was doing by herself. The dutiful side of him knew that it would

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have been best to tell Mishca before they’d even boarded the jet, but his loyalty wouldn’t let him—not to mention he didn’t even want to contemplate when, exactly, he had become more loyal to Alex than he had his own boss. Finally, once the meeting came to a close—the results of which were what Mishca had wanted—Luka was more than ready to leave and get home. Nodding at the men, Luka headed out of the room first, more than a little annoyed. Sitting for hours on a plane just to have a twenty-minute meeting, only to get right back on another flight. They could have hashed this out on a phone call. Needing to take a leak, Luka excused himself, heading for the restrooms that were only a few feet away. He’d only been in there for a few minutes at best when he heard the door open, his head automatically turning in that direction, but the man, the guard who

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had been in the room with them toward the end of the meeting, stood by the door. Luka zipped up, raising a brow as he went over to the sinks. “Whatever you’re into, I’m not. I’m flattered though…really.” “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Luka gave the man a drawl stare, though inside, he was panicking. Normally, his old organization never did business further than the East Coast, and even that was a stretch as most couldn’t get in the actual country. But that was always his first instinct, if someone thought they knew him. “I’ve never been to Vegas,” Luka said carefully. “And I always remember a face.” “No, no,” the man said adamantly, narrowing his eyes on Luka. “I know I’ve—oh, shit. You’re an Ahmeti.” Luka prided himself on not reacting, only the slightest twitch of his hands giving away his emotions. A corner of his mouth

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pulled up as he snatched a paper towel free, drying his hands and deftly moving closer to the man. “You were amazing in the Pit, never lost a fight after the first, right?” he asked, not realizing the danger he was in. “But what else can you expect from one of Bastian’s boys? He always knew how to train ‘em. I guess that’s how you ended up working with the Russians, because of your skills? Unless…they don’t know that little detail.” Luka didn’t actually speak a word as the man continued to make his assumptions. No, he waited because the moment the man gave him a reason, he would end all this. “Word spread about the feud between the Russians and the Albanians. Kind of strange that the Russians would let someone from the very organization they hate work for them…unless they don’t know who you are. How much is that information worth, you think?”

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Luka shook his head, actually taken aback by this whole situation. “Idiot. Let me see if I got this right. You come in here and try to blackmail—wait, you are trying to blackmail me right?” The man glared but didn’t offer a response. “Like I said, you try to blackmail me, but the problem with that is that you know who I am and what I’m capable of. So, what exactly did you hope to accomplish here? Or maybe you have a death wish…” He must have realized the danger he was in because he brandished a pistol, aiming it at Luka’s chest. Now…there was fear in his eyes. There was no way this guy had been doing this for little more than a few months, at least in an official capacity. Plenty of people hung around hoping to become a part of whatever organization would allow them.

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He didn’t even realize that the safety was still on as he threatened him. “I want fifty grand or I’ll blow your secret and watch the Russians cut you into little pieces.” Creative, Luka would give him that. And maybe another day, he might have stayed and continued to play with him a bit more, but his nerves were shot and he wasn’t in the mood for this shit. Moving faster than the man could keep up with, Luka circled him, his arm going around the man’s throat as he expertly, and quite easily, began choking him, his muscles flexing as he squeezed, but even as the man clawed at him, trying to get free, he didn’t let up. The gun clattered to the floor as he fought to get free, landing at their feet, sliding across the floor. Luka sighed. “You should have known never to threaten me.”

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When the man made a strangled noise, kicking out with his legs, his foot connecting with the edge of the sink, Luka finally ended it, snapping the man’s neck. He dragged him into one of the stalls, propping him up on the toilet. Though he doubted it was necessary, he took extra care to wipe down everything he’d touched, pocketing the paper towel he’d used. Leaving the restrooms, his hands in his pockets, Luka headed back to where Mishca was waiting at the entry of the casino, along with the two men they’d been meeting. Mishca frowned. “What took you so long?” “Dead body in the toilet. Strangest place.” Rolling his eyes, even as the other men laughed, Mishca led the way outside toward where their car was waiting.

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When they were in the sky again, heading back home, Mishca looked over at him. “You really left a dead body in there, didn’t you…”

22 ____ Comfort With Luka gone, Alex felt awkward remaining in his house without him there, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t want her to leave. Loki was still sitting proudly by her feet, his gaze intent on her, or maybe it was just the bacon she had in her hand. Not feeling very hungry anymore, she held it out to him, surprised by how gently he took it from her hand, as if he had practiced not snatching it. Setting her plate in the sink, she carried her glass of orange juice with her as she went about exploring his house, not that

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there was really much to see. Apparently, Luka didn’t believe in furniture…or even a TV, but a part of her thought that there was more to it than that. To her, his place seemed to reflect the kind of person he portrayed for others. Empty. Sterile. But she didn’t think that was what this house was saying. Empty, maybe, but the question was why. He’d once told her that people like him didn’t deserve nice things, but if he would let her, she would give him everything she could. That was when the idea struck her. Maybe she could repay him by helping fix his place up and making it feel more like a home. If her apartment was dirty, she hired someone to clean it. There were times when she didn’t feel like cooking, especially as of late, and chose to eat out instead. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t think of the last time she had done something for

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herself or the last time she had done something for someone else without getting something in return. After all that Luka had done for her over the last week, she owed him, and while she knew he wouldn’t accept money, she thought of something better. Now, the only thing she had to do was get him to agree. Or…she could just do it while he was gone. Sure, he’d said that he would be back as soon as he could, but sometimes Bratva trips lasted days at a time, and if she were being honest, she didn’t feel like going back to her empty apartment in the city. Why not enjoy her time out here without the constant noise and bright lights, and instead, spend it with an over-eager dog. The more she thought about making herself useful, the more the idea appealed to her. Not to mention, it would keep her distracted for a good while because Luka had a lot of houses.

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Since she was in borrowed clothes, she made sure that they were relatively old before she got started, beginning in the room where they had spent the last four days. She stripped his mattress, tossing the sheets in a corner, going through the rest of the room to gather up empty containers and bottles that she had more than likely thrown to the side during her bender. Loki was ever present, sitting off to the side, watching her every move. Just clearing the room took half an hour, and by the time she finished sweeping up and dumping the sheets in the washing machine, another twenty minutes had passed. Finished with this room, she moved on to the one directly across the hall, hitting the light switch on her way in. There were bookshelves built into the walls of the room, but not a single book adorned the shelves. There were a number of milk crates around the room, all filled to the brim with

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books both old and new, but even they weren’t enough to hold all of them. More were placed in neat stacks along the wall. Some were novels, ranging from romance to classic literature, but what caught her attention was the number of books written in French, along with a dictionary. Not to mention the textbooks, a few on philosophy, others in psychology, and in a range of different subjects Had Luka taught himself how to speak it? And if he had, why? She had never questioned how he knew the language, figured he was taught as Mishca had been, but now she wondered. She kneeled next to them, running her fingers over their spines, reading the titles. She was surprised to find that many of them were her favorites, which brought a memory of its own back. ____

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Laying on her stomach, Alex ignored the men who walked through the foyer of the Manor, oblivious to them as much as they were oblivious to her. She was engrossed in a story, taking a much-needed break from spending the day with her mother who, despite the years, hadn’t grown any less annoying. Apparently, they were all preparing for Christmas dinner, a tradition that had been put on the back burner for the last few years, but this year was different if only because Mishca was bringing his girlfriend home to meet the family. Alex liked her well enough from her limited time in her presence, but that didn’t mean she understood why Mishca felt the need to introduce her, especially when she knew nothing about the life they were a part of. “What’s that?” Alex looked up, the butterflies that always laid dormant in her stomach until

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Luka came around fluttering to life as she heard his voice. There were men all around them, wearing suits despite the fact they were doing manual labor, carrying things in for Mikhail, and yet here Luka stood, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, always displaying the colorful ink that covered his arms. He leaned over the side of the couch, his expression unreadable even though she did detect a note of curiosity in his tone. As she turned over to see him better, his eyes scanned over her, lingering in delicate places. Since the day she met him, she had found him interesting. Maybe it was because he was so different from the others who surrounded her family, or maybe it was just because he talked to her like she was someone. For a single moment, she had thought she’d seen interest in his eyes when they met, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t

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interested since he avoided her like the plague. Other times, she noticed him watching her in that intense way of his, and maybe—and this was a very slim possibility—it was because of their age difference. Alex didn’t know how old he was since he very rarely talked about himself, and anytime she tried to glean any info on him from Mishca, he either didn’t know or didn’t want to tell her. Instead of answering, she held it up for him to see, moving her hands so he could read the gold lettering on the spine. “One of my favorite novels.” He squinted, his lips moving wordlessly as he tried to pronounce the name. She did it for him. “It’s one of my favorites.” Plucking the book from her hands, he turned it over, his eyes scanning the pages. She smiled at his confusion. “It’s in French.” “You speak French?”

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“Yes,” she said flawlessly, smiling when his lit up as she spoke in the language she hadn’t used in the months since she had come back to New York. “But you would know this if you talked to me.” The amusement in his eyes didn’t look condescending in the slightest, but then again, he always looked at her like that. ____ There was a book, however, one that was off to the side away from the others, its spine worn from age. The Little Prince. She’d often read that one as a kid, and she specifically remembered telling him about it. It was a reach, more than a reach if she really thought about it. Alex didn’t know how long he’d had these books—even if the majority of them looked moderately new—so there was no guarantee that he had learned the language recently. But what were the odds that he hadn’t known it back when she had first met him?

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Or that the only books he had in the language were all her favorites, favorites that she had mentioned to him at one time? It was too much of a coincidence. Leaving them be for the time being, she straightened up as much as she could, sweeping the floors and cleaning the shelves. When she was done with that room, she moved to the kitchen, then the living room, and practically everywhere else, but even after working for hours, exhausted after it was all done, she found herself drifting back to that room with the books, sitting on the floor beside one of the crates and pulling one out. For a moment, as she sat there lost in the world depicted in the pages, she remembered what it was like to be carefree. She remembered how easy it was to get lost in a book, away from the blood and death that used to make up her world. She couldn’t

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escape it now though. She was knee deep in it. ____ When Luka wasn’t back a couple of hours later, Alex began to get a bit stir-crazy locked away in his house, especially since there was nothing more she could do. It wasn’t like there was anything to really clean besides the floors since he hardly owned any furniture. Speaking of…after swiping the keys to his truck, Alex ventured outside, breathing in the cool air that was rapidly chilling. She wasn’t particularly dressed for the weather, but that was the last thing on her mind as she climbed into his truck and started it up. The last time she had been in a car, it hadn’t ended well for the car, but as she pulled out of the driveway, then down the long stretch of street—not really knowing where she was going—she was determined to be more careful this time.

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It didn’t take long for her to realize where she was, and now that she knew, she committed the location to memory, but instead of heading back to the city, she made a stop just outside of it, pulling into the parking lot of a cluster of shops. Alex ventured through a couple of them, glad that one of them was a furniture store. She didn’t want to guess the kind of furniture he would like but did know he could use a few bookshelves and new linens. By the time she had finished and found everything she wanted, at least for the moment, she headed back to Luka’s place, giving Loki an affectionate rub on the head since he hadn’t made a noise since they left. Making it back, she went right back to organizing things, lugging in the two bookcases that she’d bought from the store. Without any tools, they would have to wait for later, but she was able to start fixing up what was to be his library.

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That was where Luka found her many hours later. Absorbed in what she was doing, she hadn’t heard him come in or seen him hovering in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” Alex startled, turning to see Luka watching her, his face expressionless as he stood gazing at her, one hand out beside him to scratch behind Loki’s ear. Either she had been too absorbed in what she was doing, or they both had the silent movements down. Abandoning his original question as he looked from her to what she was standing on, his frown became apparent. “And what the hell is that?” “It’s not real,” she proclaimed in defense of the oversized sheepskin rug that she had been trying to center in his bedroom, having been moving his mattress to rest on top of it when he had come in. “And even Loki likes it.” “Where did it come from?”

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“I bought it,” she said, hurrying to add, “for you. I figured if you’d wanted a frame, then you would have bought one by now, but I thought you could at least use something to make your place feel more homey.” “So you thought I would want a rug?” She couldn’t tell if he was upset by the gesture or just confused…she hoped for the latter. “If you don’t like it, then I can exchange it for something else. You know, if you do actually want a frame.” “You staying here, that wasn’t an invitation for you to move in.” “I know, it’s just—” He shook his head, heading back out the room. “Whatever idea you came up with, let it go. We aren’t—” “For fuck’s sake, I was just trying to do something nice for you.” Of course, the one time she tried to do something without any ulterior motive, it

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was thrown back in her face, but what could she expect. As they always said, she was always fucking things up. No matter what she did over the last few hours, that couldn’t erase the last thirty-six. Grabbing her coat, cause she had stayed well past her welcome, she was ready to get out of there. She was more than ready to call a cab to take her back to the city, but Luka turned back to her suddenly, blocking her path. It was déjà vu all over again. “Move.” “Your feelings hurt?” “Do you have to be an ass all the time?” she asked, exasperated, ready to shove him out of her way. He shrugged a shoulder, seeming to take her question seriously. “Yes.” Tilting her head to the side, she met his gaze. “Why?”

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Luka looked uncomfortable by the question, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, his eyes darting as he contemplated an answer. “Nothing is ever freely given. Better to know what you want upfront before you throw shit at me.” She was dying to ask him questions, finally break into his mind, but she knew she had to do this gradually because the moment she pushed too hard too fast, he would shut down. Then there would be no way she could get anything out of him. “I know the last four days weren’t…easy for you, so I thought I could repay you by helping you fix up your house. Debt for a debt, yes?” His eyes, softer than she had ever seen him, crinkled at the edges as the smallest and briefest of smiles curled his lips. “You don’t have to do that.” “But I want to.”

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Because she owed him for what he had done for her, not just three days ago, but for what he had been doing for her since the moment she met him. Really, it was the least she could do, and more than that, if this allowed her to stay with him for just a while longer, without the interference of their lives back in the city, she would take it. “It’s been a shit day for me.” Alex returned his smile. “Is that your way of apologizing?” He reached for the coat she was still holding, taking it and tossing it back where it’d been before she’d grabbed it. “Maybe.” “Not good enough.” His now empty right hand came up to rest on his chest, right above his heart, his fingers fanning out to cover the area. “Sorry.” Now they were getting somewhere. Feeling lucky, Alex carefully asked, “Do you want to talk about what made your day so bad?”

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She fully expected him to say no, had already prepared herself to hear the word, but instead, he asked a question of his own. “You hungry?” ____ Down in the kitchen, Alex watched as Luka made his way around the kitchen, pulling out copper cookware and utensils, raiding his fridge next. Chicken, potatoes, asparagus, and a number of herbs and peppers were set on the counter. Though it had only been that morning that she’d watched him prepare breakfast, he’d already finished the majority of it by the time she’d gotten out of the shower and joined him. Now that she was watching him from the beginning, Alex realized just how good he was. Given his love of knives, she shouldn’t have been so surprised at how expertly he wielded it. It was like he was just as

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comfortable cutting up a lemon as he was cutting into a man. He’d just set a pan on the stove, turning one of the burners on when he spoke. “What’d you do after I left?” “Ate, took Loki out for a walk—you should have told me he hates leashes by the way—did a little blow, then went shopping for your place.” He was a little slow in processing what she’d said, but as soon as it clicked, he turned the full force of his glare on her. Brows raised, she asked, “Too soon?” “What else?” “Nothing. I stayed here all day slaving away in here until you got here with a rod jammed up your ass. You know, before you decided to act like a dick, you could have at least took a look around to see what I did.” For a moment, he looked uncomfortable. “You didn’t have to clean my house. I wasn’t looking for repayment.”

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“Then don’t look at it that way. Consider it a gift.” His lips thinned, but he didn’t seem to have an answer for that. If anything, he looked uncomfortable by the idea of her giving him a gift. “You don’t like gifts?” she asked, tucking her fist beneath her chin. He was quiet for a moment, pondering his answer. “Nothing is ever free. Not even gifts. Even things that are supposed to be freely given come with a price tag.” She frowned. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I didn’t do this because I wanted something from you. It was the least I could do after…well, after everything.” Picking at the paper towel in her hand, she tore it to shreds, moving the little pieces around the table. “Are you going to tell Mish about Snow?” “What would I say? You were fucking a guy in exchange for drugs and I found out

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about it? I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over.” Wincing, she looked away from him. “That’s not how it happened.” That was the wrong thing to say. He turned away from the stove, leveling her with a stare that was almost frightening in its intensity. “No? Enlighten me.” “You’re already mad,” she whispered, still looking out the window. “I don’t want to make your mood worse.” He crossed over, the island separating them as he leaned forward. “Why? Are you afraid of me?” To this, Alex met his gaze. “I’ve never been afraid of you, Luka. There’s never a reason to be.” His smile was cold and unkind. “If you knew what I plan to do to him, then you would rethink that. Fuck, if you knew what I like to do, you’d rethink that.” He shook his head, his smile slipping. “Don’t make me

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into something I’m not, Alex. I’m not a good person. I never will be.” “But you are,” she answered softly. “No one else would have done what you did for me.” “Is that it?” he asked, still staring at her. “I do one nice thing for you and you forget who I am?” “What’s there to forget, Luka? I remember every little thing about you.” Luka looked…irritated? “You don’t even know me.” “But I want to.” She reached for the hand he had balled into a tight fist just in front of her, but when she saw the tendons stand out, she sighed, not moving any closer. “I’ve always wanted to. You know that.” “And I’ve never understood why. What do you see, Alex? Tell me, I want to know. I’m not a pet project for you to fuck around with until you get bored.” “That’s not—”

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“And you do get bored easily.” “Luka!” He blinked, as he had just come out of a trance. That anger that had seemed so present in him drifted away. “I only ever wanted to be your friend.” He shoved a hand through the thick tangles of blond hair on his head. “You’re not my friend.” Her heart sank in her chest, and she wondered again why she had put herself in this position, begging for something he didn’t want to give. “Then what am I?” Maybe if he said, ‘nothing’, she’d be able to sever this draw she felt to him. Maybe she wouldn’t care as much. He blew out a breath, his tongue peeking out as it swept over the corner of his lip. “More than that.” And as quickly as that invisible bond seemed to loosen, it grew taut once more.

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This was helpless, she knew, but she didn’t think she could let him go until he asked her to…and maybe not even then. Leaving it at that, she watched him move around the kitchen as he went back to the stove, enjoying the way he immersed himself in what he was doing. She already knew he was skilled at what he did, but she didn’t think anyone could hold a candle to what he did when he put his mind to it. Something was quite intimate about Luka cooking for her, even if cooking was something he always did. Besides professionals, she didn’t think anyone had ever cooked for her. Funny thing was that she didn’t think Luka thought of it the way she did—like it was a big deal—but it was for her. She couldn’t remember a time when someone had cooked for her the way Luka did, and for that matter, she didn’t think she had ever gone out of her way to do something like this for anyone but herself.

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By the time he finished, she was looking forward to what he’d created, eager to see what his passion was all about. She almost volunteered to help, but he was in a world of his own and she didn’t want to take him from it. When the food was plated and offered to her, she waited for him to join her before picking up her knife and fork. Remembering the way he’d looked when he got back, and the ensuing conversation, Alex thought it best not to bring up her feelings about him again, instead focusing on him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Alex asked softly, peering up at him as she took a bite out of the buttered roll. “What happened when you left, I mean.” His expression practically screamed no, but after a few moments, he said, “A job went bad.”

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“Bad as in…oh, that kind of bad,” she answered herself when he leveled her with a stare that spoke volumes. She pushed food around her plate before finally scooping some up and placing it in her mouth, chewing methodically as she tried to think of how best to breach this subject. It was quite obvious that when he said a job went bad, he had more than likely needed to kill someone. She had never thought about what it did to him mentally because he always seemed so jovial, but a brief image of his haunted gaze the night she had seen him come back to Mishca’s apartment, his hands and clothes covered in blood, flashed through her mind. “Is it…hard for you? Doing…that?” He chewed methodically, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he spoke. “Depends. I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a ghost of a smile, “but it’s not as black and white as you think. There’s not just

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a bullet to the head and it’s over. Some need to be kept alive and I have to get information from them. Others are given a reprieve from me and they die quickly. Then, of course, there are the few that I take my time with. It’s not whether or not I enjoy it. It’s not even whether or not I hate it. Hurting people is the only thing I know.” Alex didn’t like the way he said that. “But it’s not. As you said, it’s not just black and white. I’ve seen the violence you’re capable of.” When he quirked a brow, she quickly explained, “You’re Mishca’s top enforcer, Luka. Sometimes a name slips up here and there, and later I might see the result of a visit you paid that person during a press conference.” They both knew who she meant when she said that. “But I’ve also seen the good in you, more times than you realize. And it’s not just what you do for me, but what you do for

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everybody. When Mish was in the hospital after being shot, you were there for Lauren. I even heard once that when you were in charge of the Gilded Room, you were actually nice to the girls, nicer than anyone else.” He drained his glass of water. “And this is what you like in me then, this soft spot of mine for helping women.” “Is it so hard to believe that I just like you.” “You can’t.” “Why not?” “Because—” “Because you’d wreck me?” Alex asked, stifling the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, Luka, we’ve already had this conversation. I don’t see how it’s fair that you can say I don’t know you enough to like you, but what do you know about me? Why do you think I’m so weak?”

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“I don’t think you’re weak,” he retorted with a shake of his head. “I don’t think you’re weak at all.” “If you think I can’t handle you and everything that comes with you, then, yeah, you think I’m weak.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s late, and I have an early morning.” The conversation, it seemed, was over. Rinsing her dishes and leaving them in the sink, she headed upstairs, returning to the room that had once been her prison. She headed into the bathroom first to wash her face, noticing the damage to the interior for the first time. If she had to guess, it looked like he had taken his fist to the wall a few times, and maybe even in his shower since some of the tiles were cracked. She hadn’t been lying when she said his rage didn’t scare her, but maybe that was just because she hadn’t truly witnessed it firsthand.

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But either way, she was done fighting with him for the night. Hitting the light, she headed back into his bedroom, coming up short when she saw him entering, still in his shirt, but he’d replaced his jeans with shorts. When he noticed her frozen in the doorway, just staring at him, he tilted his head toward the bed, a silent command for her to get in. She did so without hesitation, though wondered if he was supposed to be joining her here. It was his bedroom and he obviously could do what he wanted, but after being cooped up together for three and a half days, she didn’t think he would want to be in a bed with her again. At least not this soon. When he slipped in beside her, she tried to remember to breathe. Alex was far more aware of his presence now than she had been the last few nights he’d slept beside her. She lay there stiffly, trying not to notice his body heat and

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how nice it felt at her back. She had never slept with him so near. In the same apartment, yes, but never in the same bed, especially not like this. She didn’t know how long she lay there like that when she heard him sigh, evidently still awake. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his arm circle her waist and tug her back against him, holding her to him. “We’re just sleeping, Alex,” he murmured, his breath fanning her hair. “Luka, I don’t—” “I need you exactly where you are.” What rational argument could she produce to something like that? She didn’t bother with a response, just relaxed, forcing her eyes closed, but as he relaxed behind her, she didn’t find it hard at all to fall asleep as they were.

23 ____ When You Need Me The next morning, Luka was up first. By the time Alex woke up, she felt worse than she had the day before. It was like every part of her ached, and she didn’t think it was just because of all the work she had done yesterday. Pushing past it, though she wanted nothing more than to lay there and enjoy the comfort of his bed, Alex ventured downstairs, finding Luka standing in the doorway, watching Loki bound across the backyard. “Luka, I need to go home.”

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He turned his head at the sound of her voice, his body still. She could tell just from the expression on his face that he didn’t like that idea. “I don’t have any clothes here. Well, obviously you know that, but I can’t keep wearing your stuff. ‘Cause obviously you have to wear clothes too…” She finally clapped her mouth shut when his stoic expression shifted into a smile. Being around him made her weird. She wouldn’t say they were butterflies. At one point, she had gotten those, back when she was still getting to know him after he had just popped into her life suddenly, but now, there was just that sense of calmness she got when he was around. It wasn’t as easy to keep up a front. He saw right through her, every time, and maybe that was why she liked him so much.

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“I doubt you own anything to paint a house in,” he grumbled as he pushed off the wall, crossing the floor to a closet nearby. “Paint a house?” He lugged out two giant containers, closing the door back. “You offered. I’m taking you up on it. We can knock it out today until I get a call.” Meaning before he had to go out and handle Bratva business. She might have been happy with this change in him, but she suspected that it had less to do with her helping him and more to do with keeping her out of trouble. “You don’t have to babysit me, Luka. I went out yesterday and didn’t even think about it. I’m gonna have to go home eventually.” At least he didn’t try to deny it as he said, “It’s not just about making sure you stay clean, Alex. Crazy shit has gone down over the last six months. The last time you

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and I were together before…this…we had a good time, right?” They had. It had only been for a couple of hours, but those couple of hours had been amazing. When it was just the pair of them, nothing or no one else around, they got along amazingly. It was only when outside influences got involved that they had a knack for arguing. “Right.” He came closer, his hand coming up to finger a lock of her hair, seemingly hypnotized as he watched the strands drift between his fingers. “I know what it feels like to be lonely, even when there are people all around you.” He looked at her, eyes intent on her face, and she didn’t shy away from that intensity. She welcomed it. “It only takes one person to fill that void.”

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Alex didn’t know if he was talking about her, or himself, but either way, she agreed wholeheartedly. “When do we start?” ____ Having washed her face, brushed her teeth, and eaten another breakfast that Luka had prepared—though she wasn’t very hungry to begin with—she helped carry in the paint, going back for paintbrushes and the tarp he used to cover the floor. She rolled up his sweats at the ankles and the waist, not bothering with the shirt since there wasn’t much she could do about that. Picking a wall, she poured out some paint, grabbing a roller, and got started. Luka was behind her, at the steps it sounded like. She worked silently, her thoughts on what they were doing, at least for a while, then she turned, ready to ask him a question, but was caught off guard by the sight of him sans shirt.

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Alex thought she was used to the sight of Luka shirtless by this time, but watching him do manual labor was an experience in itself. It was odd though, helping him make renovations to his house. All of it just felt so…mundane. She was used to the glamour of it all, but working beside Luka—even with the grisly meaning behind the majority of his tattoos—he brought a sense of normalcy that she didn’t get anywhere else. “Yo?” Alex blinked, her gaze darting over to Luka as he stood at the base of the stairs, cleaning his paint-spattered hands off with a towel. “Yeah?” He smirked, the first real hint of amusement he’d shown all day. “You’ve been painting that one spot for ten minutes. I think it’s covered.” She looked from him to the wall, feeling the blush heat her cheeks as she cleared her throat, setting the roller down on the

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side of the pan. She had been on autopilot, too focused on him to even see the work she had been doing. Not to mention the fact that she had been painting over the same spot. “Right, sorry.” She turned back around, looking for any other place that she could start on, preferably away from him if she wanted to get this done. “What’s on your mind?” What he would look like completely naked, but she doubted he wanted to know that truth. “Nothing important.” She could tell he didn’t believe that, but he didn’t call her on it. “Are you ready to talk about it?” This time he was asking her instead of the other way around, and now that she was on the receiving end of it, Alex wanted to find a way out of the conversation. “Talk about…”

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“Anya? Snow? Mikhail? Viktor? Mishca? Me? Take your pick.” “Luka—” “Viktor was a bastard, you and I both know that. Mikhail…” He smiled apologetically as he looked back at her. “He wasn’t much better.” “It wasn’t about them,” Alex muttered, looking back at the wall. “Anya was—” “It was just everything, Luka,” she said interrupting him. “There was just a lot going on and I didn’t know how to handle it. I just…I couldn’t get any of it off my mind, not when I was sober.” She wanted to leave it at that, but in the next breath, she was unloading on him, telling him everything she had been afraid to tell another person. There was something both freeing and terrifying about telling someone your innermost thoughts, hoping they understood, but she was glad she did.

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By the time she was winding down, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. He came around to her side, pulling the brush from her hand. “Why didn’t you come to me before?” “It’s not that I didn’t want to. There was never a right time. And I can’t run to you about every little thing. You’re not always going to be around.” He didn’t respond, just searched her face for answers that she didn’t have for him. “I can’t promise that I won’t get overwhelmed again. I can’t even promise that I won’t push you away, but I’ll do better.” A second ticked by before Luka pulled her in his arms, his hand drifting beneath the fall of her hair, his fingers sifting through the strands. His body was warm, overly so, but she thrilled in the feel of it. If there was ever a time where she felt the calmest, then it was with him.

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“When you need me, I’m right here. Even when you’re being fucking stubborn. I’m right here.” She slapped his chest, laughing, but he didn’t let her pull away. “Thanks, Luka.” Kissing the top of her head, he let her go. “How are you feeling?” “Fine.” “Right, now tell me the truth.” It wasn’t that that had been a lie necessarily. She didn’t feel as bad as she had when she was coming down, but she wasn’t back up to full strength yet. She still had a long way to go before then. “I feel better. Good enough?” Swiping a bit of paint onto her forehead, he nodded. “For now.” ____ It was amazing what they could accomplish when they weren’t fighting and dedicated themselves to a singular task. While they hadn’t done much besides paint,

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and throw out a few things, the place already looked more habitable. “You’ve been living here for years and you’re just now getting furniture, Luka?” she asked the next morning as they browsed a homeware store. Well…she did most of the browsing. He just glared at anyone who stared at them longer than a few seconds. “It’s what I’m used to,” he murmured absently, fiddling with his phone. Alex glanced up at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious, but when his expression didn’t waver, she felt an overwhelming sadness for him. She hadn’t really ever wanted for anything, not material at least. “You deserve a comfortable bed, at least. And a pillow.” He chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Thanks for caring.” Did he ever think she didn’t?

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Looking back at his phone, he scanned the screen then frowned. “I’ve got a drop. You can finish this—” he gestured out to the store “—another time. See you later?” “Sure. I’ll be at my place.” “Alex—” “I’m fine, Luka. Feel free to check on me when you’re finished, if you must.” “Yeah, all right.” She hung around the store a little while longer after he left, making a list of what she would pick up later when she could get Luka back in there. Hailing a cab, she thought of going to her apartment but decided against it. While she still wasn’t clear what happened between her and Snow that last night, she definitely remembered the time before that…and how she wasn’t sure whether Snow had bothered to wear a condom.

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There was a small walk-in clinic close to her apartment, and there was no point in putting it off any longer. The clinic was sterile and cold, as most were. Various posters with smiling teenagers promising that chlamydia was curable hung on the walls. Despite the hour, there were few people in the waiting area. There were a couple of seats down from her, another woman holding a crying infant, and another girl who looked absolutely terrified. Alex briefly wondered how she looked to them. When her name was called, she walked the short distance to the back. She didn’t let the shame she felt show, staying quiet as vials of her blood were taken. This was going to be the longest two days of her life.

24 ____ To Be Alone Back home in her apartment after leaving the clinic, the silence was suffocating. Now that she was alone for the first time in days, she hated it. Already she missed the sound of Loki padding across the floor and even Luka’s restlessness. Usually by this point, she was already too far gone to even remember her own name, and now that she had time in her hands, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d never given much thought to how superficial her life was until now. If she wasn’t drinking, she was shopping, and if she

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wasn’t doing either of those, she was fantasizing about doing one or both. After finishing high school, she’d never had any interest in going to college. Really, there was only thing that she had truly been passionate about, and that was ballet. But that wasn’t something she could currently do. It was already hard enough to return to the dance after having a baby, but after leaving the company without a word…it was pretty much career suicide. If she could go back now, she would change so much. Instead of allowing Anya’s secret eclipse her entire life, she should have moved forward and left it in the past where it should have been. But it was too late to feel sorry for what was lost. She could only move forward from here. She didn’t know what she would do, not just yet, but she was no longer going to just sit and feel sorry for herself.

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Alex wanted more. The doorbell rang, making her sit up, glancing over at her phone. It couldn’t be Mishca or Lauren because they would have called first. And it definitely wasn’t Klaus since he didn’t make it a point to see her outside when they were both in the same place at the same time. Pulling on a pair of shorts, she headed for the door, looking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who was standing on the other side. After she’d left earlier, he’d remarked about how he had things to do, and the possibility of them seeing each other was low…and yet here he was. Trying to feign ease, she unlocked the door, yanking it open, a smile curling her lips. “Tiger.” Luka looked tired, but at her greeting, a spark entered his eyes. “Been waiting to hear that. Can I come in?”

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She stepped to the side to let him by, trying not to seem too excited about his presence in her apartment. “What are you doing here?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels for a beat before his eyes found her. “Went home, but you weren’t there.” A thrill shot through her at his words, and since her back was to him as she walked back to her bedroom, she didn’t fight the stupid grin that bloomed in response. Alex was suddenly glad for the hard work she’d done all over her apartment now that Luka was here. Before today, she couldn’t remember the last time she had cleaned her sheets, nor the last time she had done anything around this place. “Are you going to invite me to your bed?” he asked casually, leaning against the wall as he gestured toward her bed with a tilt of his head.

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Climbing up onto it, she resisted the smile that was trying to force its way onto her face, waving him on as though an invitation was really necessary. He was always welcome and he knew that. Pulling the T-shirt over his head, he toed off his boots, dropping his bag in one of the chairs near the door. Watching him prowl toward her made another smile bloom, but she was even happier when he stretched out, his body seeming that much larger now that he was in her space. She turned on her side so she could better face him. There was still some distance between them on the bed, but she didn’t want to close it, not when there wasn’t an invitation. But like he had read her mind, he lifted his arm, looking at her expectantly. Alex wasn’t going to turn that down. She slid over, and when she was close enough, he wrapped that arm around her

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waist and pulled her in the rest of the way until they fit together, like two puzzle pieces. Luka sighed, his fingers drifting through her hair. “You cut it…again.” “And you don’t like it?” He tugged slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to get her to look at him. “There’s nothing about you I don’t like.” “Except my knack for getting into shitty situations that you have to bail me out of.” He laughed. “Just so.” A part of her was afraid to ask, especially knowing that he had come here without her having to ask…but she was curious. “It’s Tuesday…” “It is.” “But you’re here…” He nodded. “I’m here.” She slapped his chest. “Stop repeating everything I say.”

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“Ask me what you really want to know.” Chewing her bottom lip, she thought of how best to word the question, knowing that he could be sensitive when it came to Natasha. “You’re here instead of with Natasha…” “Still not a question.” “Why?” He rolled onto his back, tucking his hands beneath his head as he watched the fire burn, the sound of the wood crackling loud in the silence of the room. “It was never like that between us. Besides,” he said turning his head in her direction, “I wanted to see you.” “I’m fine, Luka. You don’t have to baby—” “That’s not the reason.” She wanted to just accept that he was here for her, but the insecure part of her

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wouldn’t let it go. “I’ve always been here, but you’ve never come before.” He sighed, reaching a hand out, his gaze dropping to her hip where his fingers traced her skin. “Can it not be both? I won’t lie and say I’m not worried about you. You’ve made it through the withdrawals, sure, but that’s not the end of this.” Then, as quickly as his seriousness came upon him, he smiled brilliantly. “And maybe because I wanted to sleep next to you again. Whatever excuse you want to go with…take your pick.” “But I—” He put a finger to her lips, silencing yet another protest, but this time she let him. “I didn’t want to be alone.” ____ For the second time in what felt like a handful of hours, Alex was opening her eyes again, blinking to clear her vision, trying to see Luka clearly. She wasn’t sure if she was

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actually awake or dreaming, but the real or fake version of him was still nice to see. He was leaning over her, damp hair tucked behind his ears, his eyes intent on her. “I have to go.” “Don’t leave.” At least, that’s what she hoped she said, but in reality, it came out as little more than monosyllables. He smiled indulgently before pulling the sheet higher over her. His lips moved again, but by this time, she had already fallen back asleep. Long after Luka had slipped out of her apartment and the sun had risen in the sky did Alex finally wake up, feeling both tired and excited—not to mention the traces of fear she felt. There was nothing mottling her mind this time around—no drugs, no alcohol, and for that reason, she could remember him coming to her for once. Groaning, she collapsed back on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut, because a part

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of her wished that she could go back to last night and just bask in just being with him. She had no idea what he was going to be like today, whether he would go back to how they once were. But while the endless possibilities ran through her head, that was no reason to sit around in bed all day. Instead, she needed to get out of her apartment and find something to occupy her time. She vaguely remembered him waking her up—the second time—and figured he would be busy most of the day with Mishca. So that gave her plenty of time to prepare for whatever his reaction to their night together was. Alex showered and got ready in record time, heading down to a coffee shop not too far away for her morning fix, she happily guzzled down the burning liquid to help make her feel more human. Alex hailed a cab, riding toward one of her favorite shops, a gem of a store that sold

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vintage clothing. She was browsing through a few of the racks, eyeing a particular dress that would look great with a pair of shoes that she already had when she heard someone call her name. Despite the years, she recognized the voice, a hesitant smile already blooming on her face as she faced her old friend. “Amerie, what are you doing here?” Amerie was just as she remembered, plus a few pounds, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck, and while her makeup was understated, she still looked stunning. “I should be asking you that! Where’ve you been? After you left Paris, I haven’t heard a thing from you.” That was a long and complicated story, and one that Alex couldn’t really get into. “Had to take a break from dancing

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because my home life was a bit crazy back then. What about you?” It was then that Alex noticed a little girl holding hands with a man walking in their direction, the girl almost a splitting image of her mother. When she got closer, she threw her arms around Amerie's legs, peeking over at Alex with a shy smile. “This is my daughter, Sophia, and my husband, Marcus.” He smiled and looked nice enough, although definitely nothing like the kind of guys they hung around during their younger days. He picked up Sophia, taking her to the other side of the store so the two of them could finish talking. “Things really have changed for you,” Alex commented softly, smiling with a small wave to Sophia who was still watching them with big doe eyes.

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“Oh, you know how these things go. Now that she’s older, I was hoping to get back into dance.” To some, having a baby was like committing a sin in the ballet world, not just because of the physical changes it did to one’s body, but because of the commitment that it required. Ballet was a twenty-four-seven commitment and having a baby conflicted with that. Of course, Amerie wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last girl who had needed to take a break from dancing to be there for her family, but it was rare that they got back into it. “Is that what has you back in New York?” Alex asked looking back to her. “Yes, Calvin O’Fare is having auditions next month with five open spots in his company. Maybe you can come out and audition, too?”

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Her heart skipped a beat at those words, pounding even harder as she thought about it. She could still remember what it felt like, how dancing brought her so much joy in a time when she rarely felt it. This could be good for her, more than good. “Here, why don’t you take my number and give it some thought. Between now and then, I can text you the address and dress code.” Alex found herself nodding, plugging Amerie’s new number into her phone and giving hers in turn. “Between the pair of us,” Amerie said with a smile as she turned to go. “Our spots are guaranteed.”

25 ____ Spontaneous Visits It had only been a matter of time. Considering how careful Luka was with most things, it came as a surprise to him that he’d finally stopped resisting the draw to her. He couldn’t even say when it had actually happened, but a part of him recognized that he was tired of fighting it. And it wasn’t Mishca who he feared so much—even though he knew the Bratva boss wouldn’t approve—but of what Luka could do to her. No one truly knew what all he had done back in Albania, not even Klaus. And if

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that weren’t enough, he’d ultimately turned his back on everything he knew for people who wanted him dead. He often thought about the choice he had made all those years ago, the single phone call that had ultimately changed his life. But he also thought about why it was he’d come to this place, to these people, instead of any number of other organizations who would have gladly wanted someone who had his skills. Was it penance? Maybe then he’d wanted to die, and he would never take his own life, but if it was done at the hand of someone else, maybe then he’d finally let death catch up with him… Many a night he had lain in bed, thinking about the decision that had taken him months to consider. And now that things were good for him and there wasn’t as much worry about anyone finding out about what he had done—especially now that

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Jetmir was dead—he should have been good. There was nothing more he could possibly need. …Well, except Alex. He knew his defenses were crumbling, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. But while he would hardly put up a fight against himself, even if he had done a good job of it for the last couple of years, he needed help from elsewhere. With Mishca off doing business with Klaus somewhere, instead of heading home, Luka headed to the club, ignoring everyone he passed until he reached the office in the back, slipping through the open door and shutting it soundly behind him. Lauren, who was seated behind Mishca’s desk, looked up in alarm, but a smile replaced it when she saw that it was him. Not since the first day he met her did she fear him, not even when she learned what exactly his job was with the Bratva.

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Whether a curse or a blessing, Luka wasn’t sure. “I thought you would be off doing…well, whatever it is you do when you’re not here,” she said conversationally, resting a hand on her stomach, but as quickly as she did, she moved her hand to the desk. Weird. “Mishca didn’t tell you about this, any of it, not at first, right?” Luka asked, gesturing around them, not having to explain what he meant. “Uh, he didn’t. Why—” “Not to mention the whole deal with your father—sorry about that, by the way.” Lauren, who had no idea what in the hell he was going on about, shook her head slowly. “Thanks?” “He didn’t tell you about his past, none of the shit he had done before you met him, not about who he was, right?” “Luka, what are you talking about?”

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Collapsing down onto the sofa on the other side of the room, he threw his arm over his face, sighing heavily. He tried to think of an answer that encompassed everything he wanted to say, or at least enough that she could get a clear idea, but he didn’t even know how to talk to Alex so how in the hell was he going to talk to Lauren about it? “Is this about Alex?” she asked as she crossed the room, sitting across from him with the brightest of smiles. “You’ve decided to stop fighting yourself on it.” “That’s not the half of it,” he muttered more to himself than to her. “I’m listening.” Maybe after he told her, just some but not all, maybe she would warn him away from Alex and then he could get this stupid idea out of his head. She was the main one advocating for this relationship, and if she knew more about why they called on him in the waning hours of the day, maybe she

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wouldn’t be as happy about sending him to the sister of her husband. “I killed Vlad.” She blinked once, twice, but otherwise didn’t react to what he’d said. “That’s why Mish was angry with you for a while.” “He wasn’t the first, won’t be the last. It’s…It’s what I’m good at. And if you catch me on a bad day, I live for it. Some days I can’t see anything else. What can I give her that she doesn’t already have?” “Is this the part where I tell you that you’re just misunderstood?” she asked carefully, actually taking what he was saying seriously. “Because I’m not going to do that. I’m sure it’s not any worse that Mishca…or Klaus.” No, not individually, not even combined. If he’d kept a ledger, then he’d be on his third volume by now. Sometimes all he could see was the blood on his hands—no

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matter what he did, they could never get clean. “Luka, I don’t know much about you, so I can only go on my experiences with you. When I needed you, you were there. When I didn’t, you were still there and wouldn’t leave. And if that’s how you are with me, I know you would do three times as much for Alex. So if you were expecting me to tell you to stay away from Alex, you came to the wrong person for that. I’m sure you get enough of that from Mish, and half the time I think he just says it because she’s still his little sister.” “I’m going to hurt her,” he said pointedly, not a question but a fact. “How?” “With the truth.” “And how will that hurt her?” He laughed, the sound echoing his frustration. “The truth always hurts.”

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Lauren nodded. “Yes, but you know what’ll make it better. You telling her. Whatever’s haunting you, whatever you think is going to ultimately ruin whatever the two of you will have, you need to be the one to tell her. No one else. It may hurt at first, but it’ll be easier coming from you than anyone else.” Luka dropped his arm, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, there was no way he could tell her the truth about what brought him to New York. No, he wasn’t proud of his life within the Organization and the shit he’d had to do to survive there, but he couldn’t see that being the thing that tore them apart. Having to explain to her that he’d intended to torture the hell out of her brother and would have ultimately killed him, but because of technicalities that no one could

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have seen coming, had ended up dishing most of this out on Klaus. “You’re obviously in a mood today,” Lauren commented, tapping his arm so he would look at her. “What changed?” Luka licked his lips, contemplating how he was going to answer that. He would never betray Alex’s confidence, not even to Lauren. If she wanted them to know about the past few months and the problems she’d struggled with, then that was her story to tell, otherwise, only the pair of them would know. But Lauren wasn’t dumb enough to think that he had just seen the light one day and was finally tired of sitting on his ass and not doing anything about what all this was he felt for Alex. There was obviously a reason…but he couldn’t think of any lie that wouldn’t sound like a lie. “Nothing.” He couldn’t say that she was giving him more of her. She always had.

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But having her so close…he wasn’t ready to give that up. “Nothing has changed.” Rising to his feet, he kissed the top of Lauren’s head before going for the door. “Glad I could help,” she called after him, the amusement clear in her voice. Now, there was one thing he had needed to do before he said fuck all to Mishca’s rules and did the very thing he told himself he would never do. ____ The house Luka pulled up in front of was pretty large, not uncommon in the neighborhood he was in. Locking his Jeep, he walked up to the front door, ringing the doorbell twice before standing back and waiting. It had taken a few seconds before he heard the soft patter of feet, then the heavy oak door was pulled open by a girl no older than twelve in a bright green summer dress.

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Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in, but she smiled. “Hi, can I help you?” Before Luka could call out to him, he heard the good doctor walking, asking who was at the door. When he appeared behind his daughter and saw who was standing in his entryway, he visibly paled, his hand coming to rest on his daughter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go see what your brother is doing, Lea.” She nodded, taking one last glance back at Luka before she disappeared in the house. The doctor’s hands were shaking as he spoke. “Please, I haven’t borrowed any money. I’ve never spoken a word about—” “Relax, doc. This is a social call. I need a favor.” “What kind of favor?” Luka shrugged, glancing around him at the houses lining the street. “Are you

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going to invite me in?” When the doctor looked more afraid, Luka lifted his shirt, just enough to show the waistband of his jeans. “If it helps, I’m not armed.” That, of course, did not mean he didn’t know how to use his bare hands to get the job done, but he thought it would be better if he didn’t mention that fact. Reluctantly, the doctor stepped to the side, letting Luka breeze through, the door closed and locked behind him. “My office is this way,” he said, directing him through the house toward a back office that was decorated in shades of gray. Though it was abundantly clear that he was still nervous, he put up a good front as he sat behind his desk, trying to look composed as he waited for Luka to explain why he was there. “I need you to run my blood.” “Pardon?”

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Dropping down in his seat, he gestured to his arm. “You’ll probably need to tie my arm off, wait for a vein to pop out, stick a needle in, fill a couple of vials with blood—you do know what that is, right?—and run it.” Clearing his throat, the doctor nodded. “What am I looking for?” “Need to make sure I’m clean, Doc.” When he still didn’t move, Luka clapped his hands together. “Anytime today.” He moved, reaching in a back lower cabinet for a medical kit. Luka held out an arm as he got close. Once he realized that Luka wasn’t a threat to him, he went to work, though he did seem to be extra careful with his work, making sure to point out how every piece of equipment he used was freshly opened right in front of him. His blood drawn, and his arm wrapped up, Luka reached into his back

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pocket, pulling out the wad of cash, setting it on the edge of the desk. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us.” Whether he heard what Luka said, the doctor’s eyes focused on the money. “Of course.” “Contact me when you get the results.” Luka went to let himself out, but came up short when the same girl was waiting for him by the door. When he got close, she held out a sucker wrapped in clear plastic. “When I go to the doctor, I always get one of these. This’ll make you feel better, too.” Smiling, Luka accepted the gift, pulling the wrapper off and sticking it in his mouth. It tasted like pure sugar and artificial flavoring, but she beamed and he ate it anyway.

26 ____ Give Me Everything After working so hard on Luka’s place, an urge struck Alex to do something about her own. Ever since she had moved in, she’d pretty much left it the way Mishca had decorated it, only moving in her own things, but now she wanted something more. She made a plan for checking out swatches for the walls, thinking over a new color scheme for the bedroom, and while she did this, she rooted through the hallway closet where she had placed most of the junk she didn’t know what to do with and found a rather large box she hadn’t remembered

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placing there. It was obvious it was hers since she’d scrawled her name across the top in her own handwriting. Pulling it free, she swiped her hand along the top, brushing away some of the dust. It was amazing how much had accumulated in the short time it had been in there. She removed the top, a bittersweet love filling her as she stared down at the contents. An old pair of pointe shoes was at the bottom, surrounded by other paraphernalia of her life back in Paris. She had forgotten how much she had enjoyed it there until this moment when she no longer had it. Pictures, snapshots of a time when the most she ever had to worry about was showing up to practice on time. That life had been simpler, yes, but even then, she wasn’t completely fulfilled. She had still craved something more than what she had.

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The doorbell’s sudden chime made Alex frown. She double-checked her phone, making sure she didn’t have any missed calls before she dropped the shoebox on the floor and headed for the door. Her confusion only grew when she looked through the peephole to see who was on the other side. “Luka?” “Alex?” he asked in the same way she had, moving around her to enter the apartment. Sighing, she pushed the door closed, looking back at him. “Sure, by all means, come on in.” He scanned the living room, lingering on the boxes that she’d left on the floor, her stuff spilling out of them. Whatever he thought of what she was doing, he didn’t say anything. Dropping down into one of the three chairs, he shrugged out of his jacket,

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immediately picking up one of the boxes that littered her floor and peeked inside. She snatched it away from him, but he had already seen what was inside. “You taking up ballet again?” “No,” she said carefully, reclaiming her spot on the floor. “I was just cleaning out my apartment.” “Thank God. It looked like a fucking crime scene the last time I was here.” Rolling her eyes, she looked back up at him. “Is there a reason why you’re here now?” He gave her that charming half-smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that I missed you?” Yeah. She was definitely charmed, even if she didn’t want to be. “Maybe.” “Good. Now back to the dancing thing. Could be good for you, no? Start back doing something you love again.”

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“How would you know?” she asked looking up at him, her fingers tightening around the one pointe shoe she was still holding. “What if I enjoyed it then, but I wouldn’t now? I’m not the same girl I was back then.” Shifting to the edge of the chair he was sitting on, he beckoned her closer, and when she was within reach, he placed his hand on the center of her chest, his skin warm against her own. And while his close proximity had made her hyperaware of his presence, his touch made her heart hammer. She didn’t doubt he could feel it. “You feel the same to me.” “You know what I mean, Luka.” She shook her head. “It’s been so long since I’ve danced…” “I’m not saying you’re not rusty—probably need some work—but you can do it. I believe in you.”

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She wondered if he knew what those words meant to her? On a whim, she decided to tell him about Amerie and their conversation. She wanted to believe that she told him just so she could have someone tell her she shouldn’t do it, that she would need more time. But Luka wasn’t that person. “Well, shit. We needed to get started then, right? We can’t have you embarrassing the both of us when you try out.” “Righttt. Like I don’t have enough to look forward to.” “I’m usually the voice of reason. Anyway, I’m hopping in the shower.” When she frowned, he shook his head. “I like to be clean. Is that so bad?” “As much as you’re staying over here, you might as well move in.” He scoffed, heading for her bedroom instead of the guest one as he usually did.

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“Darling, you’d be moving in with me, not the other way around.” “Why do all guys feel like the girl has to move in with them?” And were they really having this conversation? She wasn’t ever sure if they were joking or not. “You don’t like my house?” “Of course, I like your house.” Even before they had fixed it up, she’d liked it. Before, it had just been a bit…sterile. “But—” “And would you really want Loki to relocate? He’s so used to having room to run around.” “Of course, but—” “Not to mention, I hate the fucking city.” “Fine! I get it. If I ever wanted to live with you, it would be the house.” Heading back to her room, he turned back to her with a smirk. “If? When.”

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As he disappeared around the corner, Alex had to make sure that this wasn’t all some elaborate dream she was having. But more than whether or not he was truly entertaining a possibility of them, she was glad that he was being friendly again. This was what she loved most about their relationship, how easy it was to talk to him. She didn’t realize how much she had missed it until now. While Luka showered, she finished sorting through the rest of her closet, sorting through the rest of the living room before he reemerged. “What do you—” But she stopped abruptly as she felt his presence behind her, his arm slipping around her waist, turning her so she was now facing him. There wasn’t a second to question his actions. He just claimed her mouth as he had

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every right to do so. There was nothing slow and tender about it. His tongue tangled with hers before he drew her bottom lip into his mouth, biting down gently on it, and finally, when she was sure she couldn’t feel anything more than him on her, he pulled away. “Say yes.” He didn’t ask, he commanded. And she was helpless not to give him exactly what he wanted. “Yes.” No sooner had that word left her lips than she found herself crushed against him, his mouth descending on hers once more. Any resistance, or thoughts in general, scattered as she tried to remember how to breathe. His arm slid beneath her shirt, the flat of his hand pressing against the small of her back, pulling her in even closer if that was possible. Her own went around his neck, her fingers curling into the soft hair there. And

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when she melted against him, he groaned, a soft broken sound that made her legs weak. It wasn’t that easy because of their height difference, but he made up for that by lifting her suddenly, her legs going around his waist automatically. The hand that wasn’t cradling her face slid up her thigh and around her hip, his fingers spanning over her ass, compelling a gasp from her as he squeezed. His arm tightened as he pushed off the wall, carrying her through the living room, carefully laying her out on the floor as he went down to his knees. She always thought their first time together would be slow and drawn out—she’d even fantasized about it. This was nothing like that. As eager as she was, reaching to yank his shirt over his head, he was twice as bad. When she couldn’t get his shirt up any further then the middle of his chest—too

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busy kissing him to give much effort—he reared up, reaching behind his head, drawing his shirt up and off, tossing the material out of the way as she busied fumbling at his jeans, trying to unsnap the button, then dragging the zipper down. As the denim gave, all she saw was more tattooed skin, the trail of hair beneath his navel drifting down further. He was just as impatient as she felt as he pulled at her clothes, getting her naked beneath him in seconds, and just like the morning when he’d startled her in the shower, he stared at her as if it was the first time all over again. When he looked at her like that, in awe as if he had never seen a naked girl before, she felt beautiful. Reaching into the front of his jeans, she slipped her hand in, wrapping her fingers around his straining erection, feeling him throb in her hand. She’d always known that he would be big but feeling him, hard

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and warm, in her palm; there had been nothing to prepare her for that. “Tell me what you want.” Alex wasn’t shy, had never been a day in her life, but the minute he asked that heated question, she couldn’t find an answer for him, especially when she knew exactly what he wanted from her. “You. I want you.” “Mmm. I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that,” he said in her ear. “Do you want me to flick my tongue on your pussy? Flip you over and fuck you from behind? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Her entire body flushed with heat as his words washed over her. “Both, please.” She had to release her hold on him as he shifted down her body, his arms going around her thighs to keep her legs open. Luka didn’t hesitate. Didn’t tease. His lips and tongue immediately found her center, and she only had a second to take a

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breath before he set in, giving her exactly what he promised. She whispered his name, her legs trembling as her fingers drifted into the thick strands of his hair and pulled. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to keep him there or pull him away, but it was clear that he wasn’t stopping. Not until he got what he wanted from her. It was all the encouragement he needed because the more she tugged, the deeper he set in until her legs were trembling and his name was falling from her lips every few seconds. “I need to cum, Luka,” she all but begged him, her senses too overwhelmed to be shy any longer. She needed him. And she needed him now. But he wasn’t ready to give in yet, no matter what she said. Even when she rocked her hips, trying to force him to give her

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more, he merely rolled them until she was practically sitting on his face. “Oh God!” One of his hands snaked up her body, palming her breast, then tweaked her nipple. The other went between her legs, his thumb swiping over her clit as he sent her flying toward the one thing she’d been begging him for. The orgasm came over her slowly, and then all at once, making her cry out his name in abandon, her legs locking up as it washed through her. And even as she came down, she knew it wasn’t enough, not nearly. “Get on me, now.” She rushed to obey him, and with his insistence, she moved down his body until the head of his cock was poised at her entrance. He was taut with tension, a strong need in his eyes, so she was the one to reach between them, taking hold of him, and rubbing him all along her sex.

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“Now, Alex.” She thought of drawing this out the way he had drawn it out for her, but Luka was too far gone. He didn’t gently guide himself inside her. No, he surged in, his hands so tight on her hips that she was sure she would bruise. There was a twinge of pain, and he seemed to realize this as he held himself still, his gaze shifting up to hers. He gave her just enough time to adjust, as if he could read her body as though he had done it a million times, and as he pulled out, just until the tip breached her entrance, he thrust right back in, drawing a strangled groan from her. With an arm back around her waist, he rolled them once more, and as he gained purchase, he sunk deeper inside her, his sweaty forehead dropping to the curve of her shoulder and neck.

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His lips found her skin, skirting over her jaw, his tongue, caressing the skin there, as if he was trying to calm her. “I won’t be gentle.” It was as much of a promise as it was a threat. She could even sense how he held back, for her sake, but as she pulled him closer, she gave him the permission he sought. “Give me everything.” And he did. Grabbing hold of her wrists, he pinned her arms to the floor, and no matter how she struggled, wanting to touch him, he held firm. With each punishing thrust, she drew closer to an end she hadn’t sought. Never, not even with the two lovers she’d had previously had she ever cum twice in one night, but she was hurtling toward it. And this time, she wanted to take him with her. He was so busy concentrating on her that he wasn’t taking anything for himself.

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Grabbing his face with both hands, she drew him up for a kiss, making sure to convey exactly what she felt for him when she did. Words fell from her lips before she could stop them. She knew he understood the French, could sense it in him, but it wasn’t until he responded in kind that she gave herself over to the tide, lost in the sea of everything he was making her feel. Seconds later, he followed. Luka was careful to keep his weight off her though he dropped down onto one arm. They were both sweaty and sticky, and he was slowly softening, but he stayed where he was. Her limbs felt like jelly, and if it were not for the feel of him on top of her, she might have thought none of this was real. But then he lifted his head, looking down at her with the sweetest of smiles. “Finally.”

27 ____ A Merry Christmas Finished applying a layer of red lipstick, Alex eyed her reflection in the mirror, pleased with the results though on the inside she was nervous as hell. Three days had passed since she and Luka had ended up on her living room floor. Trying to focus on anything else was impossible, not when the only thing she could remember was his hands on her, the feel of him inside her, and how it felt never ending. She might have been worried about not talking to him in so long, but she had overheard Mishca talking about him being gone on Bratva business. He was

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supposed to be there at the dinner tonight, but she had no idea what that was going to entail. While he hadn’t seemed to regret their night together…that didn’t mean he wasn’t rethinking it now. Grabbing the bags of presents she’d bought and her bag, she headed out, hailing a cab to the penthouse. Snow was falling in earnest, blanketing the streets of New York in bright white. Wreaths and string lights hung from streetlights, various decorations including a giant Christmas tree in the middle of Times Square made the city come to life, and for once, Alex was in the holiday spirit. Traffic was even worse the deeper into the city they went, but she couldn’t begin to care about that as they sat in a long line of taxis. In the distance, she could just make out Mishca’s building, so instead of waiting, she paid the cabbie and climbed out, walking the last few blocks.

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She nodded to the doorman who smiled in return, slipping inside the warmly lit interior and heading for the bank of elevators. Inserting her key, the light next to ‘P’ lit up as she turned it, the doors closing after her. His car hadn’t been anywhere in sight as she had passed the street coming into the building, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t already waiting inside. With each floor she passed, her heart beat just a little bit faster. Alex knew she was overreacting a bit. It wasn’t as if anything had truly changed between them, not officially or anything. They just had sex. Mind-blowing, mind-numbing sex. She was so screwed. The bell chimed, the doors opening to the foyer. She didn’t have to step out of the elevator to know that Lauren had gone all out. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon was

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strong in the air, not to mention the big ass tree that Alex could see from where she was. The towering thing stood tall before the floor-to-ceiling windows. Interchanging white and blue bulbs decorated the pine, ropes of twinkling white lights wrapping themselves up around the tree until it reached the very top where a glittering star rested. The penthouse apartment looked particularly festive, and Alex doubted that Mishca had done all of this. Alex smiled at the sight of all the decorations, surprised at how much care had gone into making it feel welcoming. The manor had been lavishly decorated as well, but in a way that was only meant for show. This room felt comfortable. Setting her bags near the tree, she shrugged out of her coat, folding it over her arm as she turned the corner to head toward the noise she heard in the other room.

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“Alex!” Lauren exclaimed as she came around the island in the kitchen, brushing her hands off on her jeans. While Lauren was all smiles and in the holiday spirit, she seemed to be the only one. Klaus was sitting on the couch glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally pissed him off. When his eyes flickered to Alex, he did, at least for a moment, smile, though it was gone just as quickly. She was used to him being a grump, though he was much more fun to be around when he was arguing with Mishca, who—as Alex looked around—was notably absent. Alex returned Lauren’s hug, looking over her shoulder toward the kitchen to see what she was cooking, but with the light inside the oven off, she couldn’t make it out. Whatever it was, it smelled nice. Lauren pulled away a lot sooner than Alex was expecting—in the past she was a serious hugger—not getting too close either,

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but with the way she was fluttering around, Alex just figured she was too excited to stay still for too long. “Where is everybody?” “Mish is in the bedroom on his last call for the day. Amber’s on her way. Tristan and Matt wanted to come, but…” She glanced over to Klaus. “I can’t be sure what’s going to happen tonight. I don’t know about Luka. He only mentioned that he was on his way, said he had to make a stop first.” She briefly wondered where he had to go, and why he hadn’t called her or even sent a text. And though she had no reason to, she considered the idea that maybe he was coming with Natasha. It wasn’t as if he had ever mentioned that he had stopped seeing her. “He didn’t say he was bringing her,” Lauren said softly, reading her expression. “It’s fine if he does.” As long as she kept saying that, it would be.

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She had no claim on Luka. He could do whatever he wanted. Dropping her coat off in one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor, she left Lauren to her cooking and went to join her sort-of brother. Collapsing down next to Klaus, she mimicked his posture as she slouched back. She waited until she felt his eyes on her before she spoke. “Why so glum?” Klaus kicked his legs up, and with little care for personal space, he dropped his legs on her lap. “Wanna profile me?” She and Klaus didn’t have much of a relationship, and that was mostly her fault since she made it a point to avoid him whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity. It didn’t matter that Mishca hadn’t treated her any differently since Klaus had come into their lives, but she always had an irrational fear that he would choose Klaus over her since he was actually his sibling.

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But it seemed Klaus didn’t care whether she wanted a relationship with him or not. He was going to force one. “Just trying to make conversation so you’ll stop plotting the murder of plaster.” When his eyebrows drew together in confusion, she laughed. “You’ve been glaring at the ceiling since I got here. Could have been longer.” He smirked and leaned back against the couch. “Or you’re just waiting for the Albanian to get here and I’m meant to entertain you.” Rolling her eyes, Alex deflected. “What’s your problem with using people’s names? Would it be so hard to say Luka or Mishca?” “Names equal attachment and I don’t do those.” “No? You’ve used my name before. Lauren, too.”

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He frowned, looking away. “Neither of you did anything that made me want to kill you.” Sometimes it was almost uncomfortable how blunt he could be. One of the traits he had in common with Luka. “What did they ever do to you? Mishca, I can assume that it was probably something along the lines of mistaken identity. Am I right? But what did Luka do?” He downed the rest of his drink, reaching for the bottle on the table. “He turned me into this,” he said cryptically. “What does that mean?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know. Normally his dark musings dealt with Mishca being the reason he was a mercenary, but now it was Luka? “It’s Christmas, Niklaus. Can’t you act like you’re happy for the next hour at least?” Mishca asked as he approached, slipping his

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phone into his jacket pocket. “You’re with family. You should act like it.” Klaus, scoffing, tossed the cap of the bottle he was holding at Mishca’s face. “Fuck knows I can’t stand your ass, Russian.” “Right. You do realize that you’re Russian too, yes? And yes, I’m well aware that it should have been me in your place the day you were taken and tortured. Anything else you would like to lay at my feet?” he asked dryly, sitting across from them. “Maybe when you got shot in Kiev after one of your missions went south and one of your guys got taken? Was that my fault, too?” Alex didn’t know for sure, but there was something wrong, more than what they were actually saying. She didn’t realize just how close to the truth she had been when she’d brought up Klaus and mistaken identity. “And what has that ever gotten me?” Klaus asked as he dropped his legs to the

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floor, setting the bottle down next. He hadn’t pulled a weapon, but there was something particularly dangerous about the way he was looking at Mishca now. “I could have left you in that building,” Mishca said. “Don’t forget you asked me to kill you, end your misery. I never turned my back on you once, Niklaus. You left. You fell down the rabbit hole on your own. And I’m getting sick of you laying all your shit on me.” Alex was too shocked to do anything more than sit there and stare at the pair of them. She hadn’t known half of what Mishca was revealing about Niklaus. But she saw it, the moment she was sure Klaus was about to launch across the table and attack Mishca, but as he got to his feet, Mishca doing the same, Lauren was there in the middle of them. “Not tonight,” she said slowly, looking back and forth between the pair of them.

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“You can beat the shit out of each other tomorrow.” Mishca pulled her behind him despite her resisting, but that only managed to piss Klaus off more. “Fucking classic coming from you, Russian. Despite whatever you think of me, I wouldn’t hurt her. Current condition or not.” “Why is that, Niklaus? It’s not because of me.” Neither of them heard the elevator as they stared bloody murder at each other, and while Alex was sure Lauren could handle the two of them, she was more than a little happy to see Luka as he walked into apartment, looking lost. “No, you’re right about that. I’m done with you. Take your offer and your position and shove it up your ass.” “Because that’s what you’re most interested in? I’ve been willing to make

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amends for shit I had no control over, but fucking my wife is not on the table.” “Oh, fuck you. If I wanted to fuck your wife, then I would.” Lauren’s cheeks flushed with color, and for the first time since this argument started, there was rage in Mishca’s eyes. “Careful.” “Or what, Russian?” Klaus’ smile grew as his stance relaxed. “Is that what you think about when you know we’re alone together? Whether I have Lauren on her back? Or maybe on her knees—” Mishca didn’t think, he just swung, the sound of his knuckles hitting Klaus’ face impossibly loud. Luka grabbed the back of Lauren’s dress and tugged her back out of the way of any flying fists as he got in the middle of the foray. He eventually got them apart, and if Alex thought Klaus was angry with Mishca, the moment he realized who stood between

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him and his target, she could practically feel the fury bleeding out of him. “This is about her, no?” Luka asked, never taking his eyes off Klaus, at least until Alex stepped in their direction. “Don’t,” he told her. “Stay right there.” “Say her name.” Luka turned back to Klaus. “Sarah. That was her name. I didn’t forget.” He kept his hands at his side as he spoke of something only the three of them seemed to understand. “If you want to take it out on someone, then take it out on me. I was there. I did nothing to stop it.” Klaus was vibrating with rage, so bad that his hands were shaking, but as Luka’s words sunk in, he had his gun out, the barrel tucked beneath Luka’s chin. “Klaus!” Alex shouted his name. “No,” Luka said, pointing at her again. He didn’t even seemed fazed by the gun. “I’ve got this. Klaus, it was six years ago. I

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know what today means to you, and I know what seeing me today does to you. But Jetmir, remember? We chopped him up and threw him over a bridge, yeah?” Luka had waited a beat before he put his hand on Klaus’ arm, waiting until he willingly dropped it before he pulled his own away. “Let’s take a walk.” Stowing his gun, Klaus ignored him, giving him his back as he came back over to where Alex was standing and took a seat on the couch, reaching for the bottle that he’d left behind. Alex, very quickly, grabbed it and kept it close. He sighed. “I can’t kill the Russian. I can’t beat the shit out of him. And now I can’t even have my drink? Remind me next time to I decline an invitation to these “family” functions, to stick with my gut.” “Well…” Amber said as she came into the room. “I just got here. Don’t worry,

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though.” She looked at Mishca, Klaus, and Luka in turn. “I didn’t see anything, or hear anything. Oh, look. Cookies.” That was enough to ease most of the tension in the room. Alex was just glad it hadn’t been worse. Luka was staring at her, and the relief she felt at seeing him okay was short lived as Natasha came around the corner, looking at him the same way Alex had. Mishca and Lauren had left the room, gone to talk it out, Alex assumed. “When did it happen?” Alex blinked, looking at Klaus who was watching her in return. “What?” “You and him,” he said with a tilt of his head in Luka’s direction. “I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re looking like you want to throw up.” “It’s not what you think.” It was exactly what he thought.

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“Hey,” he said with a nudge to her side. “At least it’s better than waking up with someone about to stab you in the back. Literally. Almost didn’t make it out of that one.” “First of all, gross. You’re like the sketchy, older, angry-prone brother I never had. I really don’t want to think about you doing anything that isn’t…” She racked her brain for something that reminded her of him but didn’t make her want to vomit. “Polishing guns or something. Second, did that seriously happen? Did she get you, or did you get out of the way in time.” She reached to pull up his shirt, but he chuckled waving her hands away. “It’s all good.” “So…feeling better now? I’m not in danger of being on the receiving end of all that anger?” “Not unless you don’t give me my bottle back. I hate holidays, and I would prefer to not remember this one either.”

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Because of whoever the girl was who they were talking about. Sarah. Alex was curious, and maybe she would have asked him about her had she not seen the kind of reaction he had at just hearing her name. She knew all about bad memories though, and if he didn’t want to face them, who was she to force him. Handing him back the bottle of scotch, the brown liquid glinting in the low light, she watched him take two long swallows. He looked at the bottle, and then held it out to her, his question in the gesture. “No, thanks. I’ve cut back on my drinking.” Meaning she didn’t drink at all nowadays. “No shit? Trying to stay sober?” “That’s the plan.” “Good for you.” And he actually looked proud of her. “Does that mean I can’t drink around you though? Because I like you,

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but at the moment, I think I like this drink more.” Laughing, she shook her head. “Feel free to ruin your liver.” “It’s good to see you, Alex.” Her smile froze on her face as she was forced to look at the last person in the world she wanted to see. Natasha wore a dress that accentuated her figure, her long, dark hair hand down her back. If Alex didn’t despise her, then she might have complimented her on the choice. “Hi.” Alex reached the glass of Sprite she had left on the table, chugging it down as an excuse to not say more. Her smile still firmly in place, she looked at Klaus. “I don’t think we’ve met.” “We’ve had no reason to. I like mine freely given.” Alex, surprised at Klaus’ comment, spit out her drink, covering her mouth as she tried to muffle the giggle that was fighting to

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escape. He might have just tried to hurt both Mishca and Luka, but at the moment, he was her favorite person in the world. Though she didn’t want to, Alex looked at Luka. His gaze was on her, yes, but not on her face. They were drifting over her outfit, and if his expression was anything to go by, he really liked what he saw. She knew that look. He’d worn it when he’d gone down on her. Awareness flushed through her, and as she cleared her throat, his eyes flickered up to her. Yeah, he was thinking the same thing she was. A door closed in the distance, Mishca and Lauren reappearing. She stopped to greet her friend, but Mishca headed on into the kitchen. Wanting to escape Luka, and the implications of Natasha being there, Alex left them, escaping to the kitchen where she found Mishca hunting in his liquor cabinets.

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His back was to her as she entered, but he glanced over his shoulder when she came in. “Are you trying to get in here?” “I don’t drink anymore,” she said striding to his side. “Since when.” Since that night with Snow that she barely remembered and Luka subsequently helping her get through it. “Just a life change.” “Good for you, but I’m having a bad night, so excuse me.” “Huh, Klaus said something similar. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said when he gave her a dark look. “There a reason you were going for each other’s throat?” “He disrespected my wife.” Alex frowned. “Why are you talking like that?” He arched a brow. “My wife. Niklaus. Why are you being so formal?”

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“What do you want, Alex?” “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, and this time it wasn’t meant as a casual question. He was acting off. “If I thought that would help, then I would tell you, but it won’t.” “You’ve always told me before,” she said nudging him when he stood back up. “We used to talk about everything before…” Well, before they found out she wasn’t Mikhail’s daughter. Since then, their relationship hadn’t been the same. Smiling almost sadly, he drew her into his side with an arm around her shoulders. “How’ve you been?” “Better lately.” And the person she had to thank for that was out in the living room with another girl. “I’m glad to hear it.” Before she could stop him, he reached up, mussing her hair, making her shove him away as he laughed.

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“You’re a grown man, Mishca! When are you going to stop that?” “But you’ll always be my little sister.” “I know,” she said dryly, blindly trying to fix her hair. “So why are you in here with me instead of out there?” Instead of out there with Luka, he meant. “Someone needed to make sure you were okay.” “While I don’t doubt you cared enough to check, but perhaps you’re really in here because Natasha is here.” Alex shrugged, the only answer she was willing to give. “Lauren invited her, months ago. You know how nice she can be. Obviously that was before the two of you finally decided to get together.” She looked at him sharply, shaking her head. “We’re not together.”

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“No? Then why when I needed him for a job did he leave your apartment at four in the morning. Coincidence? Or maybe he was changing a lightbulb…” Since there was a clear view into the living room, she couldn’t help but seek him out. “It’s…complicated. We—” “Believe me when I say I don’t want details.” She looked back at Mishca, trying to gauge how he felt about this, but his expression remained neutral. “You’re not going to throw a fit about this?” “And what would that change? If I told you to stay away from him, or vice versa, the pair of you would just go after each other anyway. There’s no point in me wasting my breath.” He drew her in for a hug once more, kissing the top of her head. “I wish I could promise that things would be easy, but I won’t lie to you about that.”

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There was something about the inflection in his words that made her wonder what he was really trying to tell her. “Can you promise me something?” he asked suddenly. “Anything.” “No matter what happens, trust that I have your best interest at heart. And more than anything, I’m still going to protect you from anyone who wants to hurt you.” He sighed, finally taking a sip of his drink. “There will come a time when you’ll question that. That’s why I’m telling you now. Don’t forget.” Mishca was being…strange. Everything about this night was strange. The oven beeped suddenly, drawing Lauren back into the kitchen, but she wasn’t alone. Luka followed. Alex, not wanting to be in the same room as him, stepped out of the way to let

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them pass, but Luka was there to intercept her. “Are you ignoring me?” he asked quietly for only her to hear. It was either that or acknowledge the fact that he had brought his sex buddy to the party only days after they’d had sex. Pasting on a smile, Alex shook her head. “Of course not. I’m just letting you enjoy your date.” There, she had said what she wanted to say, and she hadn’t called her a whore. That was a step in the right direction and she was kind of proud of herself. “I didn’t invite her. She was in the lobby on her way up when I got here.” Mishca had reaffirmed that, but it still didn’t make her feel any better. Not when she was unsure of where they stood. “Luka, you can do whatever you want.”

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She stepped around him before he could stop her, going back to her seat next to Klaus. This time, she threw her legs over his. “Feeling better, big guy?” He rolled his eyes. “I think you already asked me that.” “Just making sure.” Alex hadn’t had many conversations with Klaus, but it wasn’t too late to change that. “So what’s it like being a mercenary? Hard work?” A sudden burst of laughter left him as he took a swig from a newly opened bottle of beer. That was better than the heavy alcohol he’d been drinking before. “We drink and shoot things, not always in that order.” She didn’t have to ask whether he had ever been shot. Mishca had made that clear. “Are you a good shot?” “The best shot.” “No way. Show me proof or I won’t believe you.”

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Holding her legs steady, he leaned up to pick up a magazine from the table, flipping it open, then tearing a few sheets out. “It’s as much hand-eye coordination as it is anything else.” He balled up one, tossing it between his hands. He seemed to be eyeing something off to the side. “You have to be prepared for varying conditions. You have to anticipate any variances in the weather, even the slightest. First, you need your weapon.” He held up the ball for her to see. “Next, you wait for your target to get into position, then finally…” He tossed it, the paper ball shooting through the air to hit Luka right in the forehead as he came around the corner. Alex and Amber both laughed, especially at the expression on Luka’s face as he looked down at the ball that had fallen at his feet, his hands out at his sides.

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“Patience is key,” Klaus said with a small smile. The longer they sat there, the more Alex realized that she actually enjoyed Klaus’ company. When he wasn’t brooding—or threatening to kill people—he was actually pretty cool to talk to. “I need to borrow her for a few minutes,” Luka said as he took a seat beside Alex, directing his statement to Klaus. “By all means,” Klaus said, finishing the last of his drink. “Floor’s yours.” “Alone…” “Just pretend I’m not here,” he suggested, but it was clear that he wasn’t trying to give them any privacy. In fact, he turned in their direction, leaning his head back against the couch. “Fine,” Luka started, shifting so he could face Klaus better. “Since you want to air all our dirty laundry. The last time we were alone, you weren’t gentle at all. I asked

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you to ease into it—do you think I like being bruised?—but no, you just needed to ram it in.” Alex spat out the soda she’d been sipping, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she laughed, feeling the others’ eyes on them. Klaus might have tried to look irritated, but his twitching lips gave him away. “I need another fucking drink.” He got to his feet, unnecessarily giving Luka a shove as he got up. Now that his spot was vacant, there was plenty of room for Luka to move over and increase the space between them, but he stayed exactly where he was. Despite the fact that he had successfully removed Klaus from their spot, Alex still wasn’t ready to talk to him. “You’ve got five seconds, Alex.”

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Smirking, she did the counting for him. “Five, four, three, two, one. And yet, I’m still not—” He lifted his glass, holding it precariously over her lap as if he had every intention of spilling it on her. “You spill that on me and I will kick your ass, Luka.” He shrugged, grinning at her. “I like pain, gets me off. I’m sure you remember that well enough.” Surprise made her mouth fall open, but she recovered quick enough, turning away from him, feeling the heat in her face. She definitely remembered the way he reacted when she’d raked her nails down his back…or how everything just seemed to get rougher… Whatever he saw on her face at the moment had him drawing closer, his gaze intent on her lips, and everyone else in the

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room seemed to disappear. She wanted him again, and— “Luka, can I talk to you?” Natasha’s voice snapped her back to reality. Alex cleared her throat, sitting back away from Luka as she waited to see what he would do next. While his face had been open and expressive toward her, he shut down completely as he looked at Natasha. “Go,” Alex encouraged him. He looked at her, as though he were trying to figure out if she truly meant that. But she did, and it wasn’t because she was trying to be petty. Cursing beneath his breath, Luka got to his feet, gripping Natasha’s upper arm as he led her around a corner. They weren’t gone long—though it felt like it—and when they returned, it was time for dinner. Alex took a seat next to Klaus,

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Luka dropping down on her other side and Natasha next to him. Mishca sat directly across from Klaus—which encouraged the latter to fling peas across the table at him—Lauren next to him, and Amber beside her. Besides the awkward tension between Alex, Luka, and Natasha, and the food war that Klaus was trying to initiate, everything was fine. “Must you be such a child?” Mishca asked when Klaus nailed him in the middle of his forehead. Launching another one, the mercenary smirked and said, “Takes one to know one.” Alex, trying not to laugh at the indignant look on Mishca’s face, was busy cutting into a piece of chicken when she felt Luka’s hand on her leg beneath the table. She startled, jumping slightly, but no one was the

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wiser as she glanced at him, seeing the hint of a smile on his lips. Shoving his hand away, she went back to her food, only for him to put it right back. “There something I can help you with, Luka?” He looked surprised that she was talking to him. “What do you mean?” Rolling her eyes, she bounced the leg she was holding. “There a reason for that?” He shrugged, reaching for his fork with his only available hand. “No, I just like the feel of you.” In seconds, she felt the anger drain out of her. Dammit. “You have company. I wouldn’t want to distract you.” He grinned. “You’ve always been a distraction.” “Luka.”

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They both looked up and over to Mishca who was glaring at his enforcer. If looks could kill… The reprimand was clear in Mishca’s voice. He didn’t have to say more. “Just sitting here, boss.” But he deliberately rubbed his thumb over her leg though it didn’t look like he had moved at all. “If I have to—” “Let’s open presents!” Lauren suddenly announced, glaring at both her husband and his twin, then at Luka. Whatever she had planned for this night, it wasn’t going the way she wanted. Dinner forgotten, they all headed back out to the living room, all except Luka who went to a back bedroom, Natasha following behind. Despite what had happened at the table, and how his touch still lingered, she counted every second he was gone. But

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instead of just sitting there, she went over to pick up the presents she had bought and passed them out. Lauren was first, Mishca, even Klaus, and another for Amber. Luka’s, she just left in the spot where he had been sitting. From Mishca and Lauren, she got a pair of very amazing shoes that she remembered particularly asking for when she and Lauren had been talking. Klaus, surprisingly, got her a rather fashionable ring that doubled as a weapon—that was her favorite so far. Luka and Natasha emerged from the back, Luka carrying the gifts he’d brought. Natasha kept her emotions carefully concealed. Luka tossed Alex a box covered in gold wrapping paper, a glittery ribbon of the same color tied around it. It was quite bigger than the box he’d thrown over to Lauren, but surprisingly, he didn’t have one for Natasha.

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Call her selfish, but Alex was kind of happy with that fact. There was a tag tucked into the ribbon, and when she turned it over, she was expecting it to have Luka’s name inked on it. She laughed softly when she saw three hastily drawn words. You’re fucking welcome. While everyone else was busy, Alex untied the ribbon, delicately unwrapping the box. A name of a company she had never heard of was printed along the top, and she was curious about what was inside. She tipped the top up, taking a peek inside and immediately slammed it back into place. This wasn’t something she wanted to share with everyone in this room, not because it was inappropriate, but because of what it meant to her. No one, not even her family, had bought her a pair of pointe shoes. Of course, the school she had attended

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normally provided them for a while, but if she'd wanted a special pair, she had to buy them herself. Not caring whether anyone noticed, she carried the box to the room where her coat was, opening it back up once the door was shut. She ran her fingers over the delicate satin of the shoes, letting the ribbons slip through them. They were beautiful, simplistic, and reminded her of a life that had meant everything to her at one time. Only Luka would think of getting her this, something that meant more to her than all the shoes in the world. Returning to the living room, Alex picked up her glass, watching the ice cubes floating inside swirl around. Lauren handed out her gifts next, saving Mishca for last. His was the smallest of the lot, but if the look on his face was any indication, he didn’t mind this fact. He whispered something in her ear that made

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her smile, urging him to open it up. Untying the ribbon, he pulled the lid off, his eyebrows shooting up as he lifted the USB-style key from the velvety interior. His ensuing smile promised things that Alex really didn’t want to think about. Luka, who happened to be walking behind him as he tossed his own present at Lauren, looked down at the key. “Oh, SLR McLaren? Someone has good taste.” “Go near my car, Luka, I will skin you alive.” “Why so serious? It’s Christmas. Take that stick out your ass, Mish. Now, open my gift and say, ‘thank you Luka, you’re so generous. We love you more than the angry mercenary.’” “You’re stereotyping me and I don’t like it,” Klaus complained. “The three of you fight more than any girl I know,” Alex said rolling her eyes.

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It didn’t go unnoticed that Mishca and Lauren were in a private, heated discussion, and it was more than clear that Lauren was winning whatever point she was trying to make. When they finally came to an agreement—and realized that everyone had noticed their small argument—they looked toward them. Lauren and Mishca stood in front of the Christmas tree, the latter looking pensive, but Lauren looked rather excited making Alex wonder what was going on. It was beyond obvious now that whatever they were about to share was important. “Get on with it,” Klaus said dryly. “You’re keeping us all in suspense.” Lauren glared at him, and from the way she was looking, it seemed Klaus already knew what was about to be said. Weird. “We thought it was important that you all knew that…well, what I mean to say

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is, I consider you all family and it’s…okay, no—” “Lauren’s pregnant,” Mishca blurted out. Alex was taking a sip of her drink when he said that announcement, and she coughed, nearly spitting it back out. Like most of the others in the room, her eyes immediately dropped to Lauren’s stomach, though there was hardly any evidence of a pregnancy. This also explained why her clothes were so loose fitting. Lauren’s eyes grew round as she looked at her husband, obviously not happy with the way he had told them, but no matter how it was said, Alex was sure that everyone would have been struck speechless still. “That’s a little selfish, isn’t it?” Luka asked, breaking the silence after their announcement. “Is that my gift then? Your pregnancy? Can I at least keep the baby?”

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Alex hid her smile behind her hand, coughing when even Klaus started shaking with laughter. Lauren, who had been looking distressed at the way everyone was acting, visibly relaxed, one hand going to her stomach reflexively as she cast a smile in Mishca’s direction. “I, for one, am excited,” Luka continued. “I’ve never owned a baby before.” “And you won’t start now,” Mishca said, but he too couldn’t fight his smile. Alex stood, smiling broadly at Lauren. “You should let me decorate the nursery—of course, we can do it together. You’re doing all the hard work, after all. Oh! And just wait until it’s time to pick out clothes.” While Alex was busy talking to Lauren, Mishca had gravitated towards Luka and Klaus. Alex was so excited about the possibility of having a niece or nephew that she didn’t notice when Natasha walked up. Like

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before, Lauren’s smile froze, the only warning Alex got before she started speaking. “Congratulations, Lauren. You must be so excited.” “Thank you.” An awkward silence fell over them, and instead of saying something mean, Alex kept her thoughts to herself. Deciding it was best to just ignore her entirely, Alex asked Lauren, “How far along are you? “About ten weeks, maybe a little further now.” Alex gave her a knowing look. “Honeymoon. At least we know you had a great time.” Laughing good-naturedly, Lauren asked, “No one was having a better time than me.” “Ew, gross, you—” “Maybe Alex was,” Natasha cut in. “Since she crashed Mishca’s car and all.”

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Alex froze and Lauren looked confused before realization dawned. She looked too speechless to respond, but Alex had that covered. “Considering that nothing here is really any of your business, I don’t see why you’re even talking.” Natasha turned to her with her head held high, the challenge clear in her expression. “Luka made it my business.” “When was that exactly?” Alex asked. “Because I’ve been at his house practically every day and he’s been ignoring your calls, or have you not noticed that?” “Considering I’m here now, it seems I’m his business, or has he not been fucking me since you were still a minor?” “And lately?” Alex retorted, the hot rush of anger flowing through her making her tremble with barely contained rage. “Or is he lost in the sea of other men you see on a day to day basis.”

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“Not when he’s the only one who matters.” “But are you the one who matters to him? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, didn’t he leave you a tip before he left?” Natasha took a step forward, like she had every intention of hitting Alex, but Lauren got in the middle, and if there was one thing that she knew, it wasn’t to swing wild and hit her. She wouldn’t like the consequences of that. “That’s enough!” Lauren said in a heated whisper, but it wasn’t enough to keep the attention off them. Alex barely chanced a glance in Luka’s direction, but seeing him only reaffirmed everything Natasha had been saying. “Alex…” he called after her, but she ignored him, continuing on. Sure, she had been spending time with Luka. Sure, he had fucked her as if the

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world was ending, but what did any of it mean if he wasn’t offering her anything more than that. No one might not have questioned their friendship, but she was beginning to see that that friendship had just taken a single step over the edge before jumping right back. She needed to let Luka go, especially if the woman he wanted was still Natasha. Spinning on her heel, Alex went to the spare bedroom where the coats were tossed on the bed. Mishca was asking Lauren what was going on behind her, but Alex didn’t turn around to check. If the truth came out about Mishca’s car, then she would just own up to it and leave it be. Luka wasn’t far behind her though. “Alex.” “Oh, fuck you! Whatever you have to say, save it. I’m so sick of this circle we keep

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doing. If it’s not you fighting us, it’s your…well, whatever the hell she is to you!” Grabbing her coat, she pushed her arms through the sleeves, pulling her hair free from the neck. “So, you’re just going to leave?” “Yep.” “And you think I’m going to let you?” She spun around to face him. “What are you going to do to stop me? You know, Luka…I’m tired of this.” Luka stood in the doorway, blocking her only exit, his hands in his pockets. It was clear he wasn’t moving until he was ready. “This?” “Us. Me pursuing you when I’m obviously not who you want.” “And what gave you that idea, exactly? When I kept you stable as you detoxed? When I gave you everything somebody like me could possibly give?” He pushed off the door, coming so close to her that she could

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hardly breathe without dragging in his scent. “Or when I finally gave in and fucked you like I wanted to do for the past six weeks?” He held her gaze for several moments, letting his words sink in, then said, “You’re not tired of me because I’m sure as shit not tired of you.” “And yet, Natasha is here, vying for your attention all night. How did you think it would make me feel, Luka? Seeing her here with you—even if you didn’t invite her,” she was quick to go on when he readied to say more. “Even if you were just being nice in letting her stay… What would you do if one of my exes showed up two days after you fucked me and was hanging all over me?” Even the idea of it seemed to anger him, making her swallow as his face changed with emotion. “You know exactly what I would do.” And she did. She really did.

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But that didn’t change their current situation. She gestured for him to move out of her way, but even though she tried, she knew there was no moving him unless he wanted to move. Alex readied to make her request vocal, until his hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, always gentle though she knew what those hands were capable of. How could he expect her to move on from him, to even entertain someone else when, with just a simple touch, he ensnared her? “Luka…” His name came out as no more than a whisper, but he didn’t seem to mind this. “I want you. I want you, Alex.” Licking her lips, for once she didn’t back down. “Prove it.” The demand was selfish. She knew that, but for once, she didn’t care. When it

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came to him, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to have every little bit of him because she would happily give him every last shred of her heart if that was what he wanted. “I’ll see at your place.”

28 ____ Kiss Me By the time Alex got home for the night, tossing her purse and keys on the couch as she went, she was more than a little mentally exhausted after the night she’d had. She kicked off her heels, lobbing them in the general direction of her bedroom, and shedding her coat. She had never treated her things so carelessly, but it didn’t really matter to her then. Before, on a night like this, she would have more than happily drowned her problems with Luka away with highpriced vodka, and just thinking about that was depressing. Having to depend on alcohol

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to get through her day at only nineteen was definitely not the highlight of her life. Despite how she felt, and the fact that it was nearing three in the morning, and that she’d been at the party most of the day, she didn’t think she would find sleep anytime soon. In her bedroom, she tied up her hair, deciding on a shower before she crawled into her bed for the night. She stayed in there far longer than she might have otherwise, letting the heated water wash away the stress. By the time she got out, changing into the kimono she normally wore around her apartment, she felt better. Luka’s words played like a broken record in her head, and even as she tried not to think about it, she couldn’t help but remember the way his lips felt against hers. But just as thoughts of him crossed her mind, so did Mishca. His warning still confused her, even if it was one that wasn’t all that surprising. No

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one would ever be good enough in her brother’s eyes, and while she was little annoyed at that, she didn’t fault him for it. She didn’t doubt that if she had found someone who was nice and not in the life, he would have been a little more accepting, but of course, the one guy who made her heart race was also so deeply involved within the Bratva that there was no way he could ever leave it. There was once a time when she had entertained leaving this all behind, too ashamed of the legacy she was born to. She’d thought about finding a guy who was normal in all ways, with a friendly smile and who worked a nine-to-five like the majority of the world…but then Luka came near her and she forgot all about that. And worse, once she had fixated on him, there was no one else she wanted, not like she did him. Snow was…Snow was just someone who she went to when she was low. She wished she understood Luka because

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trying to figure him out was more than a little exhausting, and not for the first time, she wished they led different lives where all the complications that stood in their way vanished. Putting it out of her mind for the time being, she grabbed the remote, turning on the television and flipping through the channels until she found a movie that wouldn’t irritate her in twenty minutes. She tossed the remote back on the bed and headed for the kitchen, thinking about the tea she was going to make when she caught sight of Luka casually lounging on her couch, his dirty, booted feet kicked up on her coffee table. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she stopped abruptly, his name slipping past her lips as she stared over at him. She shouldn’t have been surprised really. Without ever having talked about it, she knew he was highly skilled at his job, but to appease her own curiosity, she had to know.

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“How did you get in here? I thought I took your key.” She remembered the day clearly, the morning after he’d spent the night at her place, the same night they’d kissed outside the pool hall. Luka smirked, the corner of his mouth kicking up, revealing one of the dimples in his cheeks. Reclining further, he tilted his head back to see her better. “Picked the lock.” His eyes swept over her, lingering on her bare legs. She quickly became aware that she had on nothing more than a thin layer of silk. Trying to maintain some semblance of composure, she held both sides of the kimono as she continued toward the kitchen. She could practically feel his gaze on her back as she went. “What time are you leaving?” she called back to him. “Isn’t Loki alone?”

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He got to his feet, going over to a switch on the wall and flipped it up, her fireplace igniting. Once, she had been happy to have that, but now it just felt too intimate. “Loki’s fine. I took care of him before coming over here, no worries. And who says I’m leaving?” Swallowing, she didn’t bother to answer that. “Is there a reason you’re breaking into my place instead of knocking?” Grabbing the metal kettle from the top cabinet, she filled it with water, setting it on one of the burners before turning it on. His footsteps were unhurried as he joined her, his presence at her back making her more nervous than she already was. When she turned, slipping past him to get some room, she noticed that his jacket was gone now, along with his boots. Him getting comfortable in her apartment when she was too high to notice was one thing, but doing it while they were both

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completely sober was something else entirely. She didn’t want to think about it, but something about tonight was different, even if she wouldn’t acknowledge it. Steam was just emitting from the kettle, and as though it was the most interesting thing in the world, she didn’t take her eyes off it, as least until he forced her to. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the muscles in his biceps straining with the movement. She tried not to, but her eyes betrayed her as she watched the action, wishing she could trace the veins with her fingertips. She looked away before he could notice. As he rounded the island, moving toward her at a leisurely pace, she bought time, entering the pantry to peruse the boxes of tea inside, taking a deep breath as she went. She didn’t want to look like she was running from him so she grabbed a box

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without actually reading the label and rejoined him. Not looking at him, she asked, “Do you want some? You can grab your own if you don’t want—” she glanced down at the label “—peppermint. In case you think I might poison you…” “I don’t drink tea.” “Of course not,” she mumbled, going back over to the stove to wait. He was one of the pickiest eaters she knew. Folding her arms across her chest, she chewed the inside of her cheek. It was hard facing off with him when she was fully dressed, but with hardly anything on, she needed all the help she could get. “Why are you here again? I don’t remember extending an invitation.” He looked toward the whistling kettle, turning off the fire beneath it before facing her again. Plucking the box of tea from her hand, he tossed it on the counter.

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Gently, he put a hand around her waist, turning her so that she was facing him before resting his hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. She felt the coolness of the granite on her back, the heat of his body closing in around her. From the way his mouth kicked up again as he eyed the part in her robe, it was blatantly obvious that he appreciated the knowledge, even if he couldn’t see anything, and at that thought, blood rushed to her face. “I told you I was coming,” he remarked, getting closer if that were possible. She thought back to what he’d said before he had left, moments after she could catch her breath again after kissing him. “Not really,” she said finally meeting his gaze. “You weren’t very clear on that.” “Wasn’t I?” Refusing to bend, she said, “You weren’t clear on a lot of things.”

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“I’m here now. What does that tell you?” “Absolutely nothing. You were here two nights ago and I still don’t know what that meant.” She’d thought she did, but that assumption had clearly been off. “You…no, look at me,” he urged when she’d tried to turn away, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You wanted me, I’m yours.” Such pretty words, words that she had longed to hear since the moment that she realized Luka was it for her. It was almost too good to be true. She wasn’t ready to believe that he’d actually said those words. She hated feeling vulnerable, showing more than she meant to, but with Luka, even if she tried to put up a front, he’d see right through it. Hating the vulnerability that she felt, she pressed her hand to the center of his chest to push him back a step. “But for how long.”

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Ever sincere, he said, “For as long as you’ll have me.” “Luka—” His hand curled around the base of her neck, tugging her forward as he shut her up with a kiss. “Do you really want to fight now?” he whispered against her lips, his other arm going around her waist. The answer was no. No, she didn’t want to fight him, not about this. Not anymore. Whatever had made him come to her tonight, she wouldn’t question it. She might regret that decision in the morning, but for now, she would enjoy him for as long as she could. “But that’s still—” “Until someone drags me away, I’m right here. With you. With us. Yeah? And even then, I’m still yours, Alex.”

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He must have sensed the fight drain out of her because his smile grew bigger and he reached for her hand. “One thing…” The tea that she had been so adamant about was quickly forgotten as he led the way back to the living room, taking a seat on the couch before pulling her down on top of him. Her hands flew to his shoulders to steady herself, and she was intimately aware of their new position and how the folds of her kimono parted further, barely hiding anything anymore. “That’s for you,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the papers neatly folded on the table in front of them that had gone unnoticed when she’d first noticed him. Without moving off him, she reached back for them, her breath stuttering as his hands drifted to her thighs, slipping beneath the material to skim his fingers over her waist. As she read them, she was confused,

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trying to decipher what they were, until she made it to the second page. Test results. And because he was the one showing them to her, she knew they were his. If there was any doubt as to where this night was heading, they were put to rest now. Last time had been spontaneous. This…this was planned. “This wasn’t necessary, Luka,” she mumbled, dropping the pages back on the table. “But it was.” The hand at the small of her back urged her closer, and as he touched her, she laid her hands on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through it. “This is easy. The attraction is here. That need I feel for you has always been here, won’t deny that. I want you to trust me…completely. This was just so you never had to doubt that.” Her own were tucked away in a drawer in her room. In as few words as possible,

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she told him of her own, and the birth control shot she had gotten that day. “Okay.” That was the best he could say, because really? What more was there to say? She met his gaze as her hands went to the hem of his shirt and stayed there. He said, “I’ve never been in a relationship, never really wanted one, so I can’t tell you I’ll be any good at whatever the fuck we’re doing. When you need me, I’ll be there. Need something? I’ll make sure you get it. As I said, so long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.” “And you? What do you want?” He hesitated, as if this wasn’t something he had ever considered. “I…I need you to be patient with me. I won’t get this right the first time around, but I’ll try…for you.” She fell silent again, pleased with his answer, but not knowing what else to say.

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It was easier to imagine, fantasize about how this would happen, but now that they were here, she didn’t know how to proceed. It felt like, though not for the first time, he was actually seeing her. Not as Alex, the addict… Or Alex, the boss’ little sister or daughter… But just as herself. It might have been easier to ignore the way her brain was working overtime if he’d come for her fast and unrestrained, ripping her clothes off, with no time to truly think it all through. This was careful, and while she was nervous straddling his lap, she was all too aware what was happening to them. “I only ever wanted you,” she whispered, her words lingering in the air between them. This time, his answer was in the form of a kiss.

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It was slow, languid, and she finally gave herself over to it. A part of her had always felt that this…this spark between them would never dull and this moment was inevitable. She was right. His hands slipped around her toward the back of her thighs, and easily, he stood with her in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. He didn’t bother to close the door behind them. It wasn’t as if it was needed. Alex gasped as she was tossed backward, bouncing twice before settling on the bed. He stood at the end of it, his gaze rapt on her as though she were a prize that he had finally won. With the way he was looking at her, she felt terribly self-conscious since her robe had flown open and she was more than likely revealing more than she’d intended. There was no point in trying to cover back up. He would just get her naked again.

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Fisting the bottom of his shirt, he dragged it up, pulling it over his head, exposing ink and muscles that took her breath away. She drank him in, every inch of him, but it was when he started for his jeans, undoing the button, tugging the zipper down, revealing more toned flesh and colorful flesh that she couldn’t catch her breath... Apparently, Luka didn’t believe in briefs. One minute, he had been fully clothed, and the next, he was completely naked. Was there anyone who could hold a candle to him? He wasn’t perfect physically. He had the scars to prove it, even if they were mostly kept hidden, but he radiated a confidence that said he didn’t care about the scars, nor did he care about anyone else’s opinion of them. That was why she liked him all the same.

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Standing at the end of the bed, he stood proudly, and why wouldn’t he? There was nothing about him that she didn’t like. Wrapping his fingers around her ankle, he pulled her down to the end of the bed. Then he had her hands and she was standing, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. When his mouth came down on hers, she melted. This was happening, actually happening, and more than that, it wasn’t a drunken encounter. She would remember this. For a moment, she was overwhelmed at the thought of what all was happening. “It’s okay,” he whispered against her lips, sliding the robe off her shoulders, his lips drifting down her jaw to the feverish skin at her neck, her pulse working overtime. “We have all night.” When he kissed her again, she turned herself over to it, lost in the sensations that he inspired in her. His hand drifting down

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the front of her body, she felt wound tight as she waited with bated breath until finally, finally, he touched her where she needed him most. She was already wet and aching for him, almost too sensitive as his fingers slipped through her folds, knowing just the right places to touch. The moment he pushed a finger into her, stretching her, filling her, they both groaned, the sound impossibly loud in the silence of the room. Restless beneath him, she tilted her hips, wanting more, too eager for something she had fantasized about for years, but Luka was determined to draw it out and make her wait. He drew back far enough that he could drink her in, his eyes drifting over the flush that had spread across her chest, down the flat plane of her stomach, to where he was working a finger in and out of her. Alex was too aware of everything happening between them, even as she was lost in

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what he was doing to her. His eyes on her only made it worse, her legs coming together. He shook his head, a ghost a smile appearing. “Now that just won’t do.” With irresistible strength, he used his free hand to push her leg back, exposing her to him once more, but this time he shifted until he was practically on top of her. Kissing down her body, he spared not a single inch, making her come alive beneath him. She was becomingly achingly aware of just how far beneath her navel he was going, but the anticipation was something worse. He didn’t go where she wanted immediately. No, he kissed where her thigh met her pelvic bone, lips and teeth dragging over her inner thighs before he sucked delicately at the flesh there. His name came out in a whisper, desperate and pleading. Her hands had a mind of their own as they sifted through his hair, tugging on the

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silky strands, a silent command for him to stop teasing her. The moment they did, his mouth was at her opening, his tongue pushing in. All the air rushed from her lungs the moment he made contact, and it took everything in her just to remember how to breathe. His hands curled around her thighs, holding them open. It felt like he was everywhere all at once, taking her higher than she had ever been before. She couldn’t even find any words to say because everything he was doing was perfection. And as he sucked and she reflexively pulled at his hair, she could practically feel the shudder race through him, his hands tightening on her skin, and if anything, that only seemed to make him hungrier. Feeling that little spark spread through her, she squeezed her eyes shut,

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crying his name over and over again as she tipped over the edge. Luka surged up, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, his eyes wild but focused entirely on her. He fisted his cock, the muscles in his arms standing out in stark relief. He swept his tongue over his lips, his eyes closing like her essence was the best thing he had ever tasted. Reaching for him, she tugged him down, kissing him with everything in her, tasting herself on him. It had been slow and languid at first, a buildup to this very moment because something snapped inside of him. Positioning himself at her entrance, she only had a moment before he was pushing inside of her, almost too big to fit. Her thighs squeezed, trying desperately to hold him in place, needing to adjust. He groaned, a soft broken sound that made her throb around him.

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“Too much?” he asked in her ear. She had never heard him sound like that, his voice deeper and darker than usual, his accent the thickest she had ever heard it. He’d stilled, careful to keep his weight from crushing her. She had forgotten just how big Luka was, but as he eased out of her, slowly, inch by inch, and pushed back in, it no longer mattered. He pushed inside her again. And again, until she’d practically become putty. She could feel his smile against the side of her neck. “Better?” She held onto him as if he was her lifeline, nodding her head vigorously. “No, I need to hear you say it. Tell me.” It wasn’t like he stopped thrusting into her, like his hand hadn’t come up to curl around her chin and force her gaze up to his,

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and yet he wanted her to formulate an actual response to that? “Don’t stop,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. “Please, don’t stop.” He gave her everything, more than she could have ever wanted. By the end, there was no doubt in her mind that he was it for her.

29 ____ Brought to an End Her pillow was bunched under his blond head, his face turned in the opposite direction of her. There was something all too great about having him there, and as she slid closer, her leg brushing his, it was even better that he’d shed his clothes. She took a moment to appreciate the sight of him there, feeling lucky for once in her life. He was always so secretive, not so much with her, but while he slept, she wanted to take a better look at the colorful ink that adorned his back. The first time she had seen it, the vivid imagery tattooed there

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had been too distracting. Most guys she knew only had a handful of tattoos at most, but there was hardly, if any, skin left showing. The jungle scene was shockingly realistic despite how long ago he had to have gotten it done. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she followed the length of a vine with her fingertips, lingering in places as she got a better visual now that she was up close, but hesitated when she felt the differences in the way his skin felt in places. Last night, she had been in a cloud of lust, too focused on what he was doing to her body to fully concentrate on anything else, but now that she was clear of it, it was hard not to notice the smooth skin to the multitude of scar tissue that covered him. Scars were not uncommon in this world, but as she traced one long scar from just below his shoulder to where the sheet was crumpled at

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his waist, this wasn’t like anything she had encountered before. And worse, it was only one of many. Her careful and innocent exploration now made her afraid as her thoughts spun with varying possibilities of how they had ended up on him. With each jagged line she felt, it became less of a doubt that this wasn’t a hazard of a job. They were too precise, the lines too clean, and from the sheer amount covering him, they had to have been done over an extended period of time. At one point in his life, before he had gotten this tattoo, Luka had been tortured. Alex’s hand shook at this realization, sorrow filling her as she imagined the pain he must have suffered. This could explain his darker moods, but that didn’t explain how he could be so happy all of the time. She couldn’t imagine being under this level of torture and coming out of it the same person.

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But then again, she didn’t know if Luka was the same person he had once been. “It was a long time ago,” Luka’s voice resonated in the room, rough from sleep. Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed as he’d come awake, his body going taut while she’d been aimlessly tracing his scars. Pulling her hand away, she asked, “What happened to you?” He was quiet for some time, and she didn’t have to wonder whether he wanted to discuss this. He didn’t. His body language spoke volumes. But instead of ignoring her question or deflecting, as he was prone to do, he rolled over so that they were facing each other, his usually vibrant blue eyes dead at the moment. “A small disagreement between me and a few old friends.”

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Alex frowned, not understanding. “A disagreement, and they did this to you? What kind of friends were these?” The idea of someone torturing him turned her stomach. A ghost of a smile had crossed his face before it was gone. “Ones that I no longer have.” “How did you…” She didn’t know how to finish that question, wasn’t even sure what exactly she was asking. But Luka did. “Survive? I learned to adapt.” I get off on pain… Those words he’d told her once whispered through her mind, answering her own question. Had he learned to channel the torture inflicted on him by other means? That only made her wonder whether last night had been enough for him. Would she be enough? Alex couldn’t imagine inflicting any pain on him.

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“What are you thinking about?” She chewed on her lip, glancing away. “At the Christmas party, you told me you got off on pain…” Now, he did smile, shifting in the bed to get more comfortable. “I do, but not in the way you’re thinking. Back in the Pit—” “The Pit?” His jaw tensed, and she knew he had let something slip that he wasn’t ready to tell her about yet. Despite her curiosity, she would rather he keep telling her more than shut down because of this. “Never mind, just go on.” He looked more than a little grateful. “Before New York, before…this, I fought in a place called the Pit. Think dog fighting but with humans. It was bloody and fucking terrible, but it was what I had to do. I was only thirteen or so at the time and couldn’t fight for shit. Gjarper was instructed to make me

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better the only way he knew how. For days, he kicked my ass until I could barely stand.” Alex didn’t dare interrupt again, not when he’d looked past her, seeming to remember a time that only he knew about. She couldn’t tell if this was a fond memory or a bad one. “Dhimpje ju bën të mprehtë—Pain makes you sharper. That’s what he always told me after. At the time, I hated him for it. I didn’t understand, but if I wanted to survive in that place, I had to learn. So, I did. Pain shaped me, molded me I guess. I took a weapon they used against me and made it work for myself. They could no longer control me, and what a person can’t control, they fear.” He blinked, seemingly coming back to the present. “Now, to answer your original question. I acted without approval, and because of that, this was my punishment. Did it hurt? Yes, but not in the way you think. And to answer your question, no, I

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don’t want you to slap me while I’m fucking you.” A startled laugh escaped her at his comment, and she felt more relaxed when the tension left him. Picking up her hand, he kissed her palm. “I’m fine, really.” How many times had she said those very words to him yet not really meant them? “Do you know why I got these tattoos? Not because I was ashamed of the scars, but because I wanted a reminder that I was more than they were. They, and the story behind them, aren’t who I am anymore. So, no worries, yeah?” She nodded, letting it go for now. “I’m sorry that it happened.” “I wouldn’t be half the crazy bastard I am without them. Now, as much as I would love to stay here with you, I have something I need to handle.”

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Alex looked over at his jeans on the floor where she knew his phone was. She hadn’t remembered hearing it ring. “Not for your brother. For you.” Now, she looked at him in confusion. “Can’t have Natasha showing up at family functions again, right?” He didn’t wait for a response from her, just threw the covers off and grabbed his jeans from the floor. “Besides, I think Klaus may actually try and kill me if she did.” She smiled at that. “Somehow I wormed my way into his good graces.” “Exactly.” Leaning over, he kissed her forehead, and then kissed her as though he would never see her again. By the time he let up, she was breathless and reaching for him. “I’ll call you later.” It wasn’t until much later that she realized Luka never actually said bye when

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he was leaving, only ‘later,’ like he was promising that he was coming back. ____ Luka knocked twice on Natasha’s door, waiting there with his hands in his pockets. The shit that had gone down at the Christmas party…he wanted to avoid that in the future, and the only way to do that was to cut her off in person. While he might not have visited her in weeks, hadn’t even answered her calls, she hadn’t gotten the message. He couldn’t even be annoyed by this fact because he was enjoying himself too much with Alex, but if he wanted to keep this little piece of happiness that he had found for himself, then he had to do it the right way. The door swung open, Natasha standing on the other side in a robe and little else. He didn’t realize why she was smiling at him until he thought of what day it was. She believed he was back on schedule.

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That was the furthest thing from the truth. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, nuzzling his throat, smoothing her hands over his chest. “It feels like you haven’t touched me in weeks.” That was because he hadn’t touched her in weeks, possibly longer. Everything had been normal between them for a while. He would see her on Tuesdays, but those visits went from being solely about sex—at least on his side—to just enjoying her company. Despite what others thought of her, she was nice to be around, but since everything that had happened with Alex, he couldn’t even bring himself to see her. In part, it was because he knew Alex wouldn’t want him to see her—for good reason, since the pair had carried on a relationship over a couple of years now—but more than that, it was because he didn’t want any more confusion as to who he wanted.

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Though, he still wasn’t sure how that was going to work either way. The only thing he knew for sure was that Alex held precedence. Pulling her arms from around his neck, he gestured back at her apartment with a tilt of his head. “We need to talk.” “Sure, come on in.” Her new place was tastefully done, not that he had expected anything less from her. “Can I get you anything?” Of course, she knew something was off. Never in the years that they had been seeing each other had she offered him something to eat or drink—that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted him to take her out. “I won’t be staying long.” Her smile faltered, but she kept it up, resting her hand on the island to her left, as if she needed the support. “What can I do for you, Luka?”

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“Our arrangement, it’s done.” There was no point in beating around the bush. To her credit, she looked confused, as if she hadn’t expected that from him. “What do you mean?” “I’m not going to come see you anymore. This’ll probably be the last time.” “But…Luka, we have something.” He didn’t mean to be cold, but she didn’t seem to be grasping what he was saying…or maybe she just didn’t want to, but before he left, he was going to make sure he was clear. “I told you what I wanted, and I paid for it. Even when you no longer wanted me to give it to you. We’re cool, but you showing up where you’re not wanted, that ends.” “Lauren invited me to that party.” “You should have declined. I don’t give a shit if the Pakhan invites you personally. Say fucking no, and move on.”

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A vase, one he hadn’t noticed until she picked it up, came flying at him and he only narrowly missed being hit in the head as he ducked, water and flowers falling to the floor as the glass broke. Not even when she came for him, trying to hit him did Luka raise a hand against her, but he did grab hold of her wrists and force her arms to her side, preventing her from doing any further damage. “This is about her, isn’t it? Now that she gave you some pussy, you’re leaving me? What would Mishca think if he knew you were fucking his little sister?” His grip on her wrists grew tighter to the point that she winced, but he reined in his temper, releasing her. “I told you what I was offering, nothing more. You agreed. If your feelings are hurt, then I’m sorry. And maybe I should have ended it long before we got here because I wanted to avoid this very fucking thing. But I would be very careful how you

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speak. I’ve slit somebody’s throat for less.” She paled, backing away, but he didn’t let her get far. “Don’t ever fucking threaten me. You won’t like how I answer.” “So what? I was just your whore?” The hurt was apparent in her eyes, but he was out of sympathy at the moment. “When I was with you, I never treated you like one.” And that was the only answer he would give to that question as he headed out the door without looking back.

30 ____ Tell Me of You Another day of hanging out, doing absolutely nothing though they did, at the very least, drop by her place to pick up more clothes since she was practically living at his place. Being with him was becoming her new regular. Luka laughed as she toed off her shoes, hopping around as she tried to pull off her jeans next, though it tapered off when she was left in nothing more than her tank top and panties that were all yellow lace.

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She climbed up onto the bed, straddling him as though they did this every day, resting her hands on his chest. When she shifted, trying to get more comfortable, his hands automatically flew to her waist, his fingers drifting beneath her shirt to skim over her waist, enjoying the contact just as much as she seemed to. “You know,” she said after some time, “I hardly know anything about you.” He figured this would come up eventually, had resolved himself to it, but more than that, he actually wanted to share his past with her. He didn’t know if he would tell her everything, not now at least, but he would share as much as he could. “Ask me.” If for no other reason than the answering smile he received, he would give her anything she asked for.

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“We can start with something easy. Where are you from? I know Albania, but what—” “Berat, it’s a small village. You might not have heard of it.” She was trying not to seem too eager, and he could practically see the excited energy churning inside of her. “And your parents? Were they…” “My father, yes. My nënë, no. She was born in Russia from what she tells me.” Her face fell. “Did you never get to go there with her?” Luka had a choice. He could either give her half-truths, just so she would continue to smile at him as she had been, or he could tell her the truth and watch as the story chipped away at her happiness. He wanted to pick the first option, but that wasn’t who he was. If she ever hoped to understand exactly who he was and why he

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acted the way he did, she had to know the truth, no matter how ugly it was. “My nënë was bought by my father while he was married to another woman. When she was brought over, she could never leave the country again. My father was…well, he was a pretty powerful man at the time and his word was law.” Nothing else could kill the mood quite like that did, but she did good, hiding her shock as best as she could for his sake. He appreciated the thought but knew that it sounded just as bad as it did. “But you can’t just do that. You can’t just buy people.” “She was a prostitute, Alex. To some, she wasn’t even a person.” He saw it, the moment it all clicked in her head. She was thinking about Natasha, probably about how he had not necessarily defended the girl, but the names she was

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called. Shame and regret were clear in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Luka shook his head, squeezing her side until she looked down at him. “We all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset. Next question.” She shook her head, as if she was afraid that any question she asked now would achieve an answer worse than the one before. He gave her a pass. There was a reason he didn’t like talking about his past, and for now, he’d said enough. “What was your happiest memory?” Now, it was his turn to ask the questions, and if he had his way, he would chase away the melancholy that had briefly surrounded them. “My happiest memory? I don’t know. I guess I have a few. There was the day that Mishca took me for ice cream when I was six, or the time I’d found a turtle in our backyard

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and I named him Sunshine. Then, there was the day I met you.” “How could that have made you happy?” That truly baffled him. From what he remembered, they’d barely spoken. “But you don’t remember your face when I opened the door. I’m sure you were expecting Mish, and you had this weird look on your face like you didn’t know how you were going to act, but when you saw me, you smiled." He laughed, his eyes lighting up. “’Cause I wasn’t expecting you.” Truthfully, he had been preparing himself for the sight of Mishca and what that would do to him. Never had he ever expected to find Alex on the other side, let alone form a bond with her. Blushing, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “What’s yours? And it can’t be related to me.” “But what if you were my best?”

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“Don’t try and charm me, Luka. You’ve already gotten in my pants.” Tucking his hands beneath his head, he racked his brain for an answer to her question because most of the memories he kept were painful. Before Alex, there was a lot of bloodshed, especially in the Pit, and after…there was more bloodshed, but for a different person. But still… “I was seven,” he said, telling her something he had never told another. “And my nënë was obsessed with keeping my hair the way she liked it. Most of the boys at my school had haircuts, but I was the only one there with hair like a girl. I was teased about it relentlessly, and since I was so small then, there wasn’t much I could do about it. One day, I just got fed up and told her I wanted to cut it all off. At first, I could see the sadness in her eyes, but she ultimately agreed, but only if she could cut her hair, too.” He shook

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his head as he thought back on that day. “She told me some women in her building had made remarks that her hair didn’t look like theirs, so it was unattractive. I was angry as fuck, and I made sure to let her know that I thought her hair was beautiful, that she was beautiful, and she shouldn’t let any of those bitches—no, I didn’t call them bitches in front of her—make her feel bad.” Luka reached up to touch his own hair. “She told me if I felt that way, why didn’t I believe her when she told me my hair was fine as it was? I never complained again.” He glanced up when the silence stretched between them, wondering what she was thinking, but Alex was just staring at him with those wide eyes. “Don’t you dare…” “But that’s so sweet, Luka.” And her voice wavered as she blinked, a shaky smile forming. “That doesn’t mean you cry about it.”

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“I bet you were adorable when you were a kid.” “I was a little shit.” She shook her head. “I refuse to believe that. So where is she? Is she still in Albania?” He opened his mouth, ready to tell her, but the words died on his tongue. How easily he could speak of others’ murders, but he couldn’t, not for his own mother. “My father, Ahmeti…he killed her.” He waited for her to stiffen beneath him, to react to the horrific truth he had just told her, but besides the slight stilling of her hand, she gave no other physical reaction. “Luka…” “Don’t apologize. You didn’t take her from me.” Her fingers slipped free from his hair, drifting over his side. “Was this her name?” she asked softly.

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Besides the predatory ink he had gotten done, along his ribs was her name in cursive letters. “Yeah…Her name was Galina.” He remembered the last thing she had ever told him. Show her the real you, even if you hide from everyone else. “She would have liked you,” he found himself saying. Alex waved his words away. “Maybe not.” “No, I’m sure. She would have liked you because you—” he caught himself before he could finish that statement, changing it at the last second “—because you make me happy. And that was all she ever wanted for me.” She didn’t seem to catch his slip. She would have liked you because you love me.

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It was there, he knew. That suffocating emotion that always enveloped them when they were together, but he wouldn’t presume to know what she had yet to tell him aloud. And not when he couldn’t bring himself to say the words to her in return. When you loved someone, you could tell them your secrets, trust them with the truth…but he was still too afraid to really give her the chance to accept him and his past. But until the secrets grew to be too much, he would enjoy this…for as long as she would have him. ____ When Alex woke up the next morning, she felt different, but for reasons she didn’t know. It wasn’t that anything had changed in her physically, but having stayed up all night with Luka talking about his life, she felt like she knew him better.

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But she did notice that he seemed to be holding back from her. Sure, he talked about his life, but he only spoke of it up until he turned thirteen, then moved on to his life here with the Bratva. There was a vital piece missing, and she knew that this piece was the essence of who he was—mainly because he guarded it so tightly it seemed—but since he was opening up more, she figured he would tell her when he was ready. Having already been up and about, she wanted to seize the day and do something for just the two of them before he had another job to do and she had to get back to training. Luka was on his back, an arm thrown over his face to block out the sunlight. She doubted he was still sleeping, though. She had learned he had a rather religious schedule he stuck to when it came to his sleeping patterns. While the amount of time he spent

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asleep varied, he never went more than eight hours. Ever. She poked his side, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but when he didn’t even stir, she poked him harder. “Hey, Tiger.” He tried to pretend he was still sleeping, but she did see his mouth twitch. “It’s too early.” “We can’t stay in bed all day,” she said, straddling his lap, hoping to get at least another kind of reaction out of him. But he merely ignored her, still pretending to be asleep. Climbing off him, she glared. “Luka…” Fine. If he didn’t want to answer, then she had something for him. In the time it had taken her to walk downstairs, fill the pitcher with both ice and water, and return, he still hadn’t moved. Loki was sitting in his usual spot, surveying them like he had better things to do. Alex stopped

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at the end of the bed, looking down on Luka, waiting for him to look at her. “I’m serious. What do you say?” He grumbled something she couldn’t make out, but still didn’t bother to even open his eyes and look at her. He deserved his fate, Alex thought as she raised the pitcher, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to enjoy it immensely. Biting her lip to stifle her laughter, she tipped the pitcher and dumped the contents on him. Laughing loudly, she jumped back as he reared up, sputtering, his eyes wide as he shoved the dripping wet strands of blond hair from his face. She only laughed harder as he looked down at himself as if he had never encountered water before. That look of wonder was soon replaced and she could see the intent clear in his eyes as she stumbled back a step when he immediately made a grab for her.

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“We don’t have to fight about this,” she said between laughs, almost at the door. “I only wanted your attention. Now we can skip past this and get to the heart of the issue.” But that was obviously not something he was ready to do. He reached for her again, impossibly long arms nearly snaring her ankle, but she was quick, darting out of the room before he was even off the bed. Hearing him stumble out of the room after her only made her laugh harder as she raced through the house trying to get away. But he was faster and more determined, and before she had even cleared the living room, he had an arm around her waist, hauling her up against him. Alex shrieked, slapping at his back for him to put her down, but he kept moving, and she realized, almost belatedly, that he was walking them into the kitchen.

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“Luka, let’s talk about this!” She couldn’t see what he was doing, but knowing him, she wasn’t going to like it, especially if he was thinking retaliation. Finally, he seemed to see reason as he set her on her feet. She took a deep breath, about to look at him when she heard the water turn on and the whirr of him pulling the hose next to it. “Wait!” She threw her hands up, and he did pause, his face slowly spreading into a grin that, despite the circumstances, made her return it. “We can work this out without weapons.” “Really? Explain that to me.” “We can—” Before she could finish that statement, he sprayed her directly in the face. “You were saying?” he asked with a smirk, not in the slightest bit ashamed of what he’d done. “Luka—”

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He sprayed her again, laughing when she tried to dodge it. Water was getting everywhere, all over the counters and floors, soaking through the T-shirt of his that she was wearing. “What were you saying? I can’t hear you! It’s the water, I think.” She was laughing so hard her sides hurt, and finally, after she managed to knock the hose from his hands, the water stopped. They were both completely soaked, dripping even more water onto the floors. But neither seemed to care much about this fact. Alex didn’t think she had ever seen Luka look so carefree, his guard down for once. The feeling that swelled inside of her at seeing his smile was indescribable. She went up on her tiptoes, kissing him gently, feeling his lips turn up beneath hers.

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“Taking me out for one night won’t kill you.” Sighing, though he didn’t look the least bit annoyed at the idea, he said, “Probably not.” “Then let’s go somewhere, just us.” Stepping forward, she kissed the underside of his jaw, and then smiled up at him. “Thank you.” In answer, he shook his hair, spraying her with more water. “You’ve got twenty minutes.” “Luka, I could never be ready in twenty minutes.” And she was right about that. Even after leaving him in the kitchen to deal with the mess they’d made, she still wasn’t close to ready by the time he came back upstairs an hour later. “Fucking Christ, what are you doing in here?” Luka grumbled as he entered the

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bathroom, already fully dressed and ready to go. When the hell had he bothered to get clothes on? Alex had only managed to shower and dry her hair, find a dress and shoes to wear, and she was still sitting in front of the mirror, a makeup brush in hand as she readied to finish applying the layer of foundation she’d started. She met Luka’s eyes through the mirror. “I told you I would be a while.” “We could be leaving now if, you know,” he gestured to her display of cosmetics. “You weren’t creating a new face.” Rolling her eyes, she turned back to what she was doing. “I’ve never heard you complain about my new face.” He plucked the brush from her hands, placing it back with the others, using the stool she was sitting on to turn her around. Without having to ask what was what, he

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reached for her makeup wipes, pulling a few free. “I like when you do all that shit to your face.” He gently rubbed the cloth along her skin, meticulously removing every bit of color she had added. “But I like this side of you better. Take it easy, you can be soft with me, I won’t take advantage of it.” Tossing it, he pulled at the band holding her hair up next, removing it and tossing that as well. Her hair tumbled forward over her shoulders and his fingers immediately came up to tuck it behind one of her ears. “I think you’re beautiful, Alex. Like this.” She could feel the flush in her face and couldn’t stop the shy smile that bloomed on her face even if she wanted. No one had ever given her a compliment quite like that, and even if they had, they weren’t Luka. For him to say it just made everything she was feeling for him that much more intense.

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“Now, can we go because I can go back to sleep…” “Yeah, let’s go.” ____ Alex’s hair was whipping behind her as they sped down the road, exits and trees just a blur as Luka gunned the gas. “Where are we going?” she shouted to be heard over the wind. Her bare feet were kicked up on the dash, her heels on the floor. They’d been riding for a little more than a half an hour, and no matter how many times she asked, he refused to answer. Soon after, they pulled into a parking lot of a building without a sign, and she still didn’t have an answer. But he obviously knew where they were. Parking and pocketing his keys, he hopped out and came around to her side, opening her door.

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Laughing at the boyish smile on his face, she slipped her shoes back on and accepted his hand as he helped her out. As they walked, side by side, Alex slipped her hand beneath Luka’s, intertwining their fingers. She glanced up at him when she felt his eyes on her, but he didn’t pull away, just held tighter. “You’ve given this some thought then,” Alex said as they approached the booth once they entered, now realizing they were in a movie theater. But it wasn’t like any one that she had ever been to. This one looked like it had seen better days a decade ago, and while she should have been looking up at the board to see what was even playing in this place, Luka had bought the tickets and was guiding her down a long, winding hallway. He obviously knew where he was going, and since he seemed so adamant about

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it, she didn’t question where he was taking her. They reached a doorway with a large metal number ‘6’ hanging above it. Luka navigated the dark expertly, leading up toward the back of the room to the second to last row of seats. He sat dead center, her to his right. The previews had already started, ones that looked as old as the theater. “So what are we seeing?” “Le Quai des brumes.” “Port of Shadows?” she asked in surprise, glancing up at the screen reflexively. “I love this movie.” He smiled, glancing over at her. Of course, he already knew that. “But isn’t that a bit depressing for a first date, Luka?” Port of Shadows told the story of a military deserter, Jean, who traveled to the city of Le Havre where he met and ultimately

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fell in love with a girl named Nelly. They would have lived happily ever after once their enemies were killed off, but in the last few minutes of the movie, Jean was shot and died in Nelly’s arms. It was beautifully done, and Alex had cried on more than one occasion after watching it. “Is it?” he asked, not looking at her. The lights dimmed, the screen going dark before the picture changed and the movie started. As the opening credits started, Luka lifted up the armrest between them, stretching out further. For a while, as the movie went on, she’d thought he’d done it to get more comfortable, but he surprised her as he reached over, curling his hand around her thigh, the veins and tendons on the back of it standing out as he tightened his grip. Alex glanced over at him, a knowing smile curving her lips, but his expression never wavered.

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With the slightest of strength, he gave her leg a slight pull, not as wide as he was sitting, but enough that when his fingers began to drift over her leg, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake, he could slip beneath her dress and around the curve of her inner thigh unhindered. She raised her hand, intending to grab hold of his wrist and force his hand where she wanted, but he spoke up, his voice clear though he only spoke loud enough for her to hear. “Hands down.” He hadn’t even looked at her as he issued that command and she couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the rough timbre of his voice. He took his sweet time, making her wait for what he planned. He couldn’t have known that she didn’t wear panties, not when she knew this would ultimately happen

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between them, but she hadn’t expected it in here of all places. Now, she was the one who wanted to watch him, to see his reaction to what she thought would be a surprise. When his fingers brushed against her, just the slightest of touches, his lips quirked up into a smile for just a moment, and she watched them move, the ‘fuck,’ barely audible with the loudness of the movie. Luka sought her out, carefully, his thumb slipping over delicate places that made her shiver all over, and as she squirmed, she gasped suddenly as he pushed two fingers inside her. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, just the slow, steady thrust of his fingers, but it was as if she could feel him everywhere. Her eyes drifted closed as her head fell back against the seat. She shouldn’t have been as close as she was, not when he’d barely touched her, but it was as if he was

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trying to coax the orgasm out of her and knew just what spots to hit. As if he could sense the impending release, he finally turned in her direction. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, and the hunger she saw there made her clench around his fingers. Pressing deeper, he held them there, hooking his fingers up and over a spot no other guy had touched. And she broke. Cupping the nape of her neck, he dragged her across the seat, smashing his lips against her lips just as the cry spilled from her. They were only lucky that the fireworks crashing on the screen were loud enough to drown her out. As his fingers came to a slow stop, gently bringing her back down, she finally managed to open her eyes again after squeezing them shut, gazing into his blue depths, lost there for a moment.

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With the look he was giving her, she didn’t think she was getting any sleep tonight.

31 ____ Teach Me Luka tossed the bag over his shoulder as he gestured with a tilt of his head for her to follow him into the building. If there was one thing she was learning about him, it was that he liked his surprises. Walking up two flights of stairs, they traveled down a short hallway, and she didn’t need the confirmation from him to know where they were. She could practically smell the polish on the floors used to keep them polished and smooth. No matter the studio, that smell never changed.

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He had given her not a single indication as to where he was taking her, just told her to get up and get dressed. His only specification was that she wore sweats. Now they were here. Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door they stopped in front of, holding it open so she could go in ahead of him. Her eyes took in everything in and about that room, from the large windows on one side to a mirrored wall on the other where a barre was anchored into the wall. On the other side of the room, a sleek, black piano was set up, away from where any dancer would need to practice, but close enough that the music would echo. “You rented this place?” Alex asked in wonder, turning back to face him, her heart swelling at the thought. Did she really need another reminder of how great he was? “An audition is coming up, right? You need the practice, now you don’t have an

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excuse. For the next six weeks, this place is yours. But I only have a few hours before I have shit to do. So”—he clapped his hands, heading over to the piano—“let’s get started.” “Like now?” she asked. “No time like the present.” “Luka…” He looked up at her expectantly, waving her on when she stopped speaking. “You can’t be shy. You do this for a living.” “But I’ve never danced in front of you.” “First time for everything. Now, stop stalling and let’s get on with it.” Deciding that she wasn’t going to be able to talk him out of it, Alex stripped out of her sweats, digging through her bag for her leg warmers and pointe shoes. She stretched, relishing in the familiar tightness of her muscles. As she went through the motions, she forgot Luka was even there, taking her time

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as she prepared her pointe shoes, a rigorous process that started with her tearing out the lining and finishing by sewing new ribbons onto the sides of the shoes. Pulling them on, a smile bloomed and just as they always had before she’d turned her back on them. They filled her with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything else in the world. Up and down she went, balancing herself, getting back into the rhythm of things. Carefully, she lifted her leg into the air, using the mirrored wall to balance herself. It wasn’t easy by any means—it had been ages since she’d last done this—but after a short time, she was finally flat against the mirror and she felt a flush of triumph. Luka cleared his throat, speaking up from his side of the room. “You’ve been holding out on me.” She smiled but ignored him, finishing her warm up.

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Drifting back in her thoughts, she heard the familiar counts of her instructors from long ago, going through the motions of what she would be doing if she were back in practice at a company. But with each misstep and stumble, she grew a bit more discouraged. She tried not to let it show, still moving as best she could, but the steps weren’t coming to her as easily as she had hoped, and now she was wondering if with the six weeks she had to prepare before the actual class started, would it be enough. “All right, you’re freaking out and that won’t work. Get your shit together.” Alex laughed without humor, pushing her hair back out of her face as her frustration mounted. At one point, she could have completed these spins in her sleep, but now she was struggling to even do one without falling. “That’s not helping, Luka.”

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“Calm down.” “Luka!—” “Seriously,” he said getting to his feet, walking over to her bag and digging around inside, pulling her phone out. His fingers flew over the screen, and before she knew, soft music was playing, but vastly different from the classical music he had been playing before. “Should I even ask how you know my password?” she asked dryly, joining him by the piano. Without looking up, he explained, “You changed it, actually. It was your brother’s birthday first, now it’s 1122.” His smile was slow and easy. “Didn’t know I meant that much to you.” Swallowing, Alex was suddenly glad that he wasn’t looking at her. “What does that say about you that you remember what that date means?”

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Now, he did look at her with the conviction of a man meant to be taken seriously. “It was never a question whether I cared about you, Alex. I always have. It was whether or not I wanted to risk pursuing you.” “And now? Is it still worth the risk after…everything?” “Now more than ever.” She tucked a strand behind her ear as she turned away. It was probably beyond obvious what that simple statement meant to her and she didn’t need to voice it for him to know. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “Why this song?” “You play it the most,” he said setting the phone down on top of the piano, spinning around on the bench so that he could better face her, his elbows on his knees. “The objective isn’t for you to turn into a spinning top today but to start getting your groove

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back. As I said, there’s no one here but you and me. Act like it.” But despite that advice—and she had been trying to follow it since they entered this room—she still didn’t feel like herself. More importantly, it felt like she was forcing every move she made, and while she wasn’t one-hundred percent positive of this, her reflection, the few glimpses she had caught, had confirmed that. “Will you…will you dance with me?” There was no hesitation. He offered his hand, palm up, and as she took it, he pulled her in, carefully spinning her, and when her back was to his chest, Luka began to move them around the room. Even as she moved to the tips of her toes, she barely reached his chin, and with this height advantage, it was easier for her to stay up this way, letting him lead when he became so inclined.

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But she soon realized that Luka wasn’t really dancing at all, but just moving side to side, occasionally spinning her as he had done before. Without really trying, he was letting her use him as a distraction from her doubts, and while just enjoying herself with him, she was finally doing what she couldn’t earlier. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, the heat growing hotter, as she noticed that he had yet to take his eyes off her. “What?” “You’re beautiful.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, glancing away from him, but he gently turned her face back, forcing her to look at him. “Thank you.” “I mean it.” As he was prone to do nowadays, he pulled her closer by the nape of her neck, kissing her forehead.

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Alex didn’t feel small when he did this, not anymore. She felt cherished and important. “Even when your feet turn to shit once you get back into this after a few years, you’ll still be beautiful to me.” Laughing, she shoved him away. “You’re such an asshole.” He reclaimed his seat, stretching his legs out to cross them at the ankles. “Just finish your practice.”

32 ____ Permission “Luka, I think your dog is a bit of a pervert,” Alex said with a laugh, feeling him smile against the curve of her neck as they both listened to Loki’s panting. If he hadn’t been trained so well, Alex worried that he might have jumped on the bed with them, and nothing was more awkward than having a dog lick her while she was straddling Luka. “Yeah, I got it.” Hooking an arm around her waist, he rolled them over, pushing to his feet as he headed for the door, ushering Loki out of it

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before closing it soundly. He grabbed hold of her ankle, pulling her down the bed before laying between her legs, his head resting on her belly, his hair tickling her skin. She played with the ends of it, watching the golden strands slip between her fingers, using the pads of her fingers to massage his scalp. He relaxed under her touch for a time, at least until she drifted to the back of his head. The hand on her waist tensed, releasing slowly when she stopped. She didn’t know what had caused the reaction. From what she could feel, there were no scars there, but like other things with him, maybe it was psychological. Since he had taken her to the studio he’d rented, she’d gone back time and again, growing more comfortable with each hour that she spent in there. She was nowhere near where she needed to be for the audition, but she was close. And it was all thanks to Luka.

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He hadn’t completely healed her. She wasn’t totally mended just because he was so deeply involved in her life now, but he helped remind her that she was somebody. Now she was remembering what it was really like to be happy. Luka leaned over the side of the bed, the screen of his phone lighting up as he pressed a button. He barely glanced back at her as he said, “Got a job.” Alex frowned, watching as he got dressed. “It’s midnight.” But even as she said that, she knew it didn’t mean anything. He could be called in at three in the morning and he would have to show up. ____ Dragging in a lungful of nicotine and tobacco, Luka stretched out in the driver’s seat of his Wrangler, streams of smoke drifting out the window into the night air as he exhaled. This went unnoticed by the man a few blocks away, parking his Harley. No, he

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was too busy with the woman who was nearly falling off the bike, as she was visibly intoxicated. Luka had followed them for a little more than an hour, stalking his prey unnoticed as he had been trained to do. He’d been eager to get this started but had known that patience was the key. He had made Snow a promise after all, and he didn’t want to ruin it by acting irrationally. Snow might have forgotten that threat and moved on, considering the girl he was leading back to his clubhouse, but Luka never forgot. He didn’t care that Alex was finally healing, that the last thing on her mind was Snow…No, he wanted to make him pay, not for the drugs, but for what he had done while she had been too out of it to consent. And with the changes within the Bratva, he couldn’t just go up and shoot him in the face. The Angels would more than

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likely want retaliation for the death. Luka had thought about telling Mishca the truth about why he had acted out the day he’d went to make the drop, except he didn’t need him turning his frustration to Alex which would have only made the situation worse. So he did the next best thing. ____ “What the fuck do you want?” Klaus asked as he drew his shirt off, going for one of the rags on the ground next to him. Klaus was one of the last people that Luka ever wanted to willingly seek out, but he was in a delicate situation that only he could help with, and while they might not have been the friendliest toward each other, this might have been something that he was willing to help with. “I need a favor.” Luka knew exactly how that sounded as soon as the words left his mouth—especially with the way Klaus was now looking at him—but he couldn’t

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take them back now. And even if he could, he wouldn’t. And not to mention the way Klaus had acted at the Christmas party a few weeks ago. “You’re not in a position to be asking me for anything, Ahmeti.” Luka visibly flinched at the name. Years had passed since he’d last been called that, and even during those days, he was still called by his first name. Ahmeti had been his father, the cruel bastard who had taken everything from him. If there was one thing he hated, then it was the reminder that he was a product of his father. Klaus turned, heading around the side of his car as he swiped the towel over it, drying off the droplets of water that remained. As he moved, Luka got a good look at the jagged, raised scars that lined his back, another reminder as to why approaching Klaus was a gamble. There were

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days when they had a mutual understanding, but other days, very much like this one, Luka was just another reminder as to what had brought Klaus this low. Unlike Luka who had covered his marks with vivid tattoos to the point that you couldn’t see them—only feel them if you were to touch them—Klaus wore his for everyone to see. “It’s not about me,” Luka said carefully. Glancing back at him, Klaus shook his head. “Alex, then? Didn’t the Russian tell you to stay away from her?” Ignoring his question, Luka asked one of his own. “Are you going to help or not?” Tossing the rag down, Klaus leaned against his car, focusing the intensity of his gaze on him. “What can I do?”

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“In about an hour, there’s a meeting scheduled with the Angels MC. I need you there.” “To pretend to be the Russian?” A sudden smile bloomed on his lips. “This should be fun but leave that piece of shit here,” he said with a gesture to Luka’s Jeep. “We’re taking my car.” Luka momentarily blinked in surprise, not having actually expected Klaus to agree. It had been wishful thinking on his part because, for once, he had thought before he acted. Either way, Snow was going to die. There was no changing that. Klaus headed into his motel room and changed clothes. Unlike his twin who mostly had a closet full of suits, Klaus wore jeans and a plain black shirt, but he still managed to look put together. The ride to the meeting was uneventful, and by the time they reached their destination, Luka was a bit antsy.

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“Anything I should know?” “The one you want is Snow.” Nodding, Klaus looked out toward the men who were waiting for them. “And before I condemn him to your ass, tell me. What the fuck did he do to you?” “Like I said, it has nothing to do with me. Alex…” He thought back to the night he had found her, the way her eyes had been glassy and she could barely sit up… No, this had never been about him at all. Once, he had told her he would keep her safe, no matter what. And that was before…whatever it was they had now. He’d made that promise because he cared about her. There were some men who would have thought they’d done their job by just getting her out of that situation, but Luka…Luka had to make sure that the situation never presented itself again. Luka told Klaus a very condensed version of the events that had taken place

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that night, then telling him what he had done after, but nothing more than the first night he’d kept Alex at his place. Klaus was better at hiding his reactions than Luka, but there was a mutual understanding between them at that moment. He might not have been as close to Alex as the rest of them…but he cared. Luka was the first out of the car, then Klaus, both crossing the parking lot to a stand a few feet away from the bikers. The president didn’t waste time. “Reason why you called this meeting, Volkov? And brought that motherfucker…” He might have been bold enough to tell Mishca the truth about why Luka had nearly killed a few of them that night, but he had mentioned there’d been a problem. “Because we have a problem.” It was disconcerting how Klaus could mimic Mishca, and to anyone else, he sounded spot on. And had Luka not known the

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pair of them as well as he did, he might not have caught the subtle differences. That was working in his favor tonight. “A routine meeting, but it went bad this time. Why is that?” The prez didn’t look as sure of himself now that it wasn’t Luka questioning him. Even Luka was curious as to how he was going to talk himself out of this one. Pulling the gun from the waistband of his jeans with ridiculous ease, Klaus pointed it at Luka’s forehead, never taking his eyes off the bikers. “I don’t tolerate disrespect of any kind, so please, if his actions were unwarranted, I’ll put a bullet in his skull right now.” Since none of this was rehearsed, Luka actually looked at Klaus, trying to gauge how serious he was. Knowing Klaus, he would shoot him just for fun.

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“But know that if you lie to me—and believe me, I’ll know if you do—I’ll destroy your organization member by member. Do you understand?” The prez swallowed, his other guys looking at him, but he never looked away from Klaus. “One of our guys was messing around with a girl, but he didn’t know she was your sister. She never gave her name.” Klaus dropped his arm to his side, looking impressed. “No? Then why did your man Snow brag to three fucking idiots—they’re my idiots, you see—that he had fucked a Russian bitch in exchange for pills?” How Klaus could come up with this on the spot, Luka didn’t know, but he was fucking glad. Klaus didn’t give the man a chance to answer. “I wouldn’t give a shit if he stuck his dick in every female who walked the Earth, but I do give a fuck when it’s my family. And

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I definitely give a shit when she didn’t consent to it.” The prez realized the danger he was in, shifting on his feet as he tried to weigh his options, but he knew there was only one way out of this without having a war on his hands. “What do you want?” “Snow.” He could have declared war, protected his own, as they would have done if the positions were reversed, but he wasn’t prepared, not in the slightest, for what the Bratva was capable of, even if he didn’t know that he was only going up against one in particular. If he had a choice between everyone dying and handing over one of his own to the sociopath that wanted him…the choice was clear. “36th and Lex, he’s meeting a contact tomorrow,” the prez said reluctantly, eyeing

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Luka like he knew that as soon as he was gone, Snow would be as good as dead. He was right. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.” Klaus and Luka walked back to his car, keeping the bikers in sight until they were pulling out of the lot. As they rode back to Klaus’ room, Luka let his mind wander as to what he planned to do to Snow when he found him, entertaining himself with images of blood and mayhem. It wasn’t his fault really. No one could have known that when Luka came to this place, he would learn to care for someone else again, not someone like Alex. Someone innocent. Luka wasn’t a good person. He stood on the brink of death doing what he did every day, especially for the people he did it

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for, but Alex shouldn’t have to suffer the fucked-up shit this world had to offer. And after what Snow did… He was going to make him hurt. “You’re going after him tonight?” Klaus asked when they pulled up beside his Jeep. “You already know the answer to that.” Klaus tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he killed the engine. “You plan on telling the Russian?” No, he would never be the one to tell that story. If Alex wanted him to know, then she would tell him. “You know the answer to that, too.” Klaus nodded, scratching his head as he climbed out. “Make him bleed.” ____ Glancing at the illuminated clock on the dash, Luka tossed his cigarette out the window.

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It was time. Carefully climbing out, he left his door ajar as he went after the man who deserved everything he was about to get. The girl saw him first, but she was too high to give Snow a warning. “On your left.” Snow, predictably, looked to his left as Luka struck from the opposite direction, landing one solid punch to the man’s face that dropped him, but it didn’t knock him out. Taking a step back as the biker righted himself, Luka tried not to enjoy the look of shock and indignation that crossed his face once he realized who had struck him too much. Luka didn’t give him a chance to move against him when he threw another punch, then another until finally, Snow was unconscious on the ground. He made quick work of tying him up, making sure that should he wake up, he wouldn’t be able to get free. Grunting, he

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hefted the man up, dragging his body to his nearby Jeep, dropping his body on the floor of the backseat, and throwing the wool blanket he kept back there over him. With one last look around at his surroundings, Luka took off, driving them to the one place where he knew they would have the most privacy. The Wet Rooms, aptly named for the rusting, leaking pipes that lined the ceiling of its building, was one of a number of places the Volkov Bratva used to coerce answers out of the poor souls forced to endure hours in there. Currently, it was unoccupied, and since Luka mostly used this room—and on the rare occasion, Mishca—he knew that he would have an unlimited amount of time to make sure that Snow understood the gravity of his mistake. Thankfully, there was a garage attached to the place, so getting Snow inside wasn’t a problem. Having spent most of his

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day with Alex, he’d not had the time to set things up the way he wanted, and now needed to take a bit of extra time to move things around just as his new friend was stirring. Luka dragged him over to one of the chains and hooks that hung from the ceiling, securing his new restraints but leaving the blindfold in place as he pulled up a chair in front of him and took a seat. For a time, Luka just sat and watched him, from the way he moaned as he gained consciousness to the stillness that overcame him once he realized the predicament he was in. At first, he didn’t try to fight his way free but seemed to try to sense whether or not Luka was in the room with him. It wasn’t like there was any secret as to who had taken him. The only sound in the room was Snow’s heavy breathing, then Luka’s shoes as he adjusted his position in the chair, hooking his foot over his knee as he sat back. Snow

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froze, and though he tried to appear calm, Luka could sense the fear in him. It took a moment, both of them silent, until Snow’s struggles started, turning from careful pulling to outright desperation. Luka closed his eyes for a moment, letting it all sink in, preparing himself for the work he was about to put in. He rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the muscles pull briefly before he relaxed back. It was time. Standing, everything else drifted away from him as he reached for the bag on Snow’s head, yanking it off in one swift motion. Snow’s head jolted back, not because of the force in which Luka removed the bag, but from whatever he saw in Luka’s gaze. Luka had seen this look in varying degrees over the years, mostly when he was up against someone in the Pit. There was arrogance, yes, but fear as well.

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“You can’t just kill me,” Snow said indignantly. “My people—” “That’s the thing,” Luka cut him off, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t give a shit. So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get started.” Luka took the blade from his pocket, running the pad of his finger along the edge of it, listening to Snow’s muffled grunts and the scraping of the chair legs as he struggled. “I wasn’t always like this,” Luka said conversationally, returning to Snow’s side. “Of course, I’d never given much thought to what I wanted to be when I grew up, but this? This definitely wasn’t it. My mother was a cook, or rather she just liked to do it. I learned because I figured I would at least do one thing that made her proud. Fuck knows she’s rolling over in her grave now. I’ve always been curious about that, you know? Why do you have to roll over? Couldn’t you

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just shift to one side? Constantly rolling over in that tiny ass coffin sounds tiring.” Snow’s eyes were wide as they darted over Luka’s face, and he had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. Though he couldn’t be sure why, everything he was saying made perfect sense. “But that’s besides the point. We’re not here to talk about me.” He tapped the blade against Snow’s chest. “Let’s talk about you. How many girls have you forced to fuck you in exchange for drugs? Here, let me give you a little motivation. If your answer is between one and two, then this ends. Anything more than that and I’m going to take this blade and cut your fucking dick off, understand?” “It was just the one, man. Just one.” Luka sighed, a smile spreading on his face, and Snow, predictably, took that as a good sign. “Then, just Alex?”

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Snow nodded. Luka spun the knife in his hand, watching the light glint off the silver before plunging the blade into Snow’s side, his shout of pain like music to Luka’s ears. “You said you would end this shit!” “I did, but I didn’t say I would end it now.” Luka gripped Snow’s face. “She suffered in a way that I wish I didn’t remember. I sat in a room with her for three days as she came down from whatever the fuck it was you gave her, and then watched as she sweated the shit out of her system. I watched her break, over and over again, helpless to stop it—and Snow, I hate being fucking helpless. Sadly, I can’t keep you here for three days as I wanted to—I got shit to do. But for the next three hours, I’m going to make you feel a fraction of what she felt during those three days. You understand, right? This is just business.”

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“What the fuck do you care about some stupid bitch!” he shouted back at him, a desperate cry from a desperate man. Luka shoved him away. “Because she’s mine. And I’m a little overprotective of what’s fucking mine.” Walking over to the speakers that were set up in a corner of the room, he plugged in the iPod sitting there, laughing when Snow started screaming bloody murder. Even if someone were to hear him, no one would report it. Not in this neighborhood and especially because it came from this building. When he found a song he liked, he set it on repeat, then turned back to Snow. He would enjoy this, far more than he should. The first cut along the man’s skin sent euphoria through him. He was careful, making sure to only inflict the necessary amount of pain, not wanting to go overboard too soon, but one minute he was there in the

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room, doing what needed to be done, and the next, he was carving into a man’s back with a heated blade. This was what he knew, the only thing he was really good at. Luka wasn’t particularly proud of this fact but dealing out this kind of retribution worked for him. He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, stripping flesh from the man’s back—Snow long since passing out from the pain—before the steel doors at the back of the room opened, and they were no longer alone in the room. “Some things never change.” That voice. Luka held the blade in hand, turning slowly, wiping his forearm across his face to wipe the blood off, but only managing to smear it further. The man, standing at the back of the warehouse, wearing the same manic grin that Luka often wore, stepped into a patch of

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light, the stark color making the gauntness of his face stand out more. For a moment, he just stared, letting the reality of this ground him. “Hello again, Valon."

PART THREE My demons, Though quiet, Are never quite silenced. Calm as they may be, They wait patiently For a reason to wake, Take an overdue breath, And crawl back to my ear. -Author Unknown

33 ____ Past Demons Time warped things. Memories. Appearances. But just as easily as things seemed different, everything, even the most insignificant of details came rushing back as though they had never been gone. Fatos was as Luka remembered him. Though he did, at least, look a bit older, but under the guise of a man, he could still see the remnants of the boy he’d raced home with on occasion. He was a few inches shorter than Luka’s six-foot-four with dark brown hair that was carefully styled. And his eyes…they

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were as dark as the pit in his chest. Unlike Luka, who had gained at least another twenty pounds of muscles since the last time they’d seen each other, Fatos was thin. Almost too thin. Looking at him now, it was hard to rationalize that this was the same person who had been his best friend throughout grade school, only to turn into a rival when Luka had needed him most. Even now, the two sides of him were ever present. Content and pleasant on the outside, but behind that calm smile was a monster that liked to come out and play. For a moment, Luka thought of how Klaus always looked at him, and the thoughts he’d have at the sight of him. Right now, as he stood more than a dozen feet away from his old friend, Luka could only remember how he’d been so glad to hurt those who had done nothing to earn it. But hadn’t Luka?

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He worked under his own principles, and now that Fatos was here admiring his handiwork, Luka knew how it must look. It didn’t matter that he knew Snow deserved every last cut from his blade. To Fatos, it just looked like he and Luka were one and the same. “What are you doing here, Fatos?” Luka asked as he wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. Glancing back at Snow, who sat slumped forward in the chair, it made it far easier to see his back had been slashed to ribbons. Even if Luka had entertained the idea of letting him live with the reminder of what he had suffered, there was no way he was letting him go now, not with Fatos in the room. His true identity was one of his most wellkept secrets, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize it for anyone. It was already enough that Klaus knew, and though he never hung it over his head, the threat was always there.

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And what would the mercenary do now with Fatos in the city? Already, Luka heard the clock ticking, knowing that it was only a matter of time before everything he’d built for himself came crashing down. If Klaus were tracking the Organization the way Luka thought he was, he would know soon enough that Fatos was stateside. And hadn’t he warned Luka? It felt like so long ago that Klaus had come to him, speaking of things he had never considered. Fatos looked the part. Perfectly groomed, he was wearing a suit that probably cost more money than Luka had spent on his entire wardrobe. While Luka didn’t want to wrap his mind around Fatos being in charge of any organization, let alone the one that Luka hated, he understood why he would make a great leader. Undoubtedly, he would do whatever he needed to remain at the top.

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Klaus had asked whether he would be willing to trade his life for Fatos’. He hadn’t given him an answer because he wasn’t sure he would be able to. Now? He needed Fatos out of the picture. It seemed only appropriate that he would appear once more when Luka was truly happy. “Did you not miss me, vëlla?” Fatos asked patiently, his eyes drifting to the body at Luka’s back, a small smile curling his lips. There was no disgust in his gaze, no surprise at the gruesome work. If anything, Fatos was proud of the work he saw. “Brother? I’m not your brother. Now answer my question. It’s been five years. What do you want?” After several moments of just gazing at the body, he finally looked back to Luka. “Would you believe me if I told you I missed you? It’s true,” he was quick to add when he saw the look of disbelief cross Luka’s face.

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“There have been rumors, of course, saying that you had allied yourself with the Russians. I could understand why they would think that—your mother and all—but I would have never thought that you would get so comfortable with the very person you were paid to kill. How does that work exactly?” Not rising to the bait, Luka asked a question of his own. “You have your own experience with that, so you tell me.” Fatos looked hurt, as though what Luka was implying actually hurt him. “I would have never hurt you. You know this.” “Did I miss when you carved into my back with a dirty blade? Or maybe when you were betting against me when I fought in the Pit?” He thought of bringing up Elena and what Fatos had done to her, but from the look on his face, he was expecting it. And no matter how he tried to shake it, he had to admit that what was done to him was the best at extracting information

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from those on the receiving end. While Luka had never broken, others had. Many others. “But that made you better, did it not?” Fatos asked, gesturing to Snow. “That day made you more. You can’t still be angry with me over this. If I recall, you accepted my care while I tended to the wounds.” That was because he’d been too fucking weak to do anything more than lay there in agony. It wasn’t until he had gotten his strength back did Luka kick Fatos out with threats of murder. But this was their problem. Fatos, even during their shared time in Berat, always did things he thought was best for Luka, even if it permanently disfigured him and turned him into something most feared. In his own way, Fatos cared for him. But that care had turned into a cancer. Grinding his teeth to keep from lashing out, Luka said, “You tortured me.”

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“Please. I helped you survive!” In the blink of an eye, Fatos had gone from startlingly calm to full-blown rage, an expression that Luka was all too familiar with twisting his face. Ignoring the outburst, Luka shoved a hand through his hair, not caring that he was streaking blood throughout. “Why are you here?” Clearing his throat, Fatos seemed to get his temper under control as he smiled once more. “I want to offer you an opportunity to come back. I’m sure with a little bit of work, the Organization will forgive you and there’ll be no need for us to speak of this further.” By work, he meant more fucking torture. Despite how elegantly he put it, Luka knew how they worked, and forgiveness didn’t come without a price. “Or?” Fatos looked confused, as though he hadn’t thought Luka would contemplate any

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other offer. “Or you’ll be brought back by force. We know about Bastian—not that I ever cared for the fat fuck—but rules are rules and you aren’t above them. Someone has to answer for his death and considering you left your mark all over him, that someone would be you.” Two varying emotions had warred inside of him after he had lured Bastian outside of the Albanian bar over a year ago. Taking a knife to the man’s face and body, his mind seized on what had been done to him when he was to defenseless to do anything about it. On most days, he thought of that killing with fondness, replaying it over and over again in his head. He could almost feel the phantom silkiness of blood on his hands, but other days, he felt sick with the reminder that Bastian had succeeded. He’d made Luka into the monster he was.

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“Do they know?” Fatos asked interrupting his thoughts. “Does that Volkov know that you took a knife to someone else’s body with the intent to kill him? I don’t think he would be near as forgiving as I am…but that’s because I love you more.” There it was…a real threat. Luka didn’t care about being dragged back to Albania—though the thought of going there made his stomach turn—but he didn’t want his past outed. Especially to someone who would see him dead if he knew the truth. Luka finally felt the familiar stirrings since Fatos had walked into the warehouse. “Are you blackmailing me?” Luka asked, his head canting to one side as the fingers on his right hand twitched. Fatos, wisely, sensed the change in him, but unlike others, he’d wanted to cause it, enjoying the mayhem that followed. “Maybe…maybe not. But this offer won’t last

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very long. Either come with me and I’ll fix this for you or stay and learn why I moved up in our world.” The logical move would be to take him up on this, knowing that it would be the path of least resistance. But if he did, the truth about who he was would come to light anyway, defeating the point of him harboring it for so long. But what Fatos didn’t know was that there was someone who did know Luka’s secret and, more importantly, hated the Albanians more than Luka did. In that, he had an ally, and considering the knowledge of Fatos coming to the States would have gone unknown, it was safe to assume that Luka would be able to call on the mercenary to help him with this. It was the only thing that made sense and the only thing that would buy him enough time to finally put his past to rest.

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And keep anyone else from finding out who he was before coming to New York. “You might have moved up in the ranks, Fatos, but we both knew whose Bastian’s favorite was.” At that, Fatos lost his smile. “Here’s my warning, and you can ask this guy how serious I am,” he said with a head tilt in Snow’s direction. “You, and whoever you brought with you, head back to Berat and I’ll forget this ever happened. Just like you haven’t heard from me in the last five years, let’s make it another seventy. If you come for me, you won’t live to see the end of it.” “Is that your final answer, Valon?” “That’s the only answer you’re ever going to get.” Fatos sighed, fiddling with his already straight tie. “By the end of my time in this godforsaken country, you’re going to wish you had taken my offer. I’m sorry it has to be this way.” Fatos glanced down at his watch,

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shaking his head as he turned to the door. “I’ll be seeing you very soon, Valon. I hope, for their sake, that they’ll forgive you for the hell you’re about to bring into their lives.”

34 ____ Animals Laying on her stomach, Alex listened to the pouring rain outside Luka’s bedroom window, the pelting water calming as it tapped against the pane. It sounded impossibly loud, the occasional thunder even louder, but in the eye of the storm, she felt at peace. It was going on three a.m., and she’d dozed most of that time, but for the last hour, she had just lain there wondering where the hell Luka was. Loki had lounged with her for a bit, but then he too was off

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wandering around, leaving her to her thoughts. While she knew now to call him, especially when he didn’t know what he was doing, she couldn’t check the impulse to pick it up every once in a while just to see if he’d called. But as she was about to pick it up again, she heard the door open and slam shut. Alex didn’t mean to seem so eager, but she was out of the bed in seconds, speeding out into the hallway, nearly slipping on the stairs in her haste to get to the ground floor. “Tiger, I thought you—” Her words caught in her throat as she got a good look at Luka, and the implications his clothes spoke of his night. He had a cigarette in one hand, not caring that the red from the blood on his hands had stained the filter. It wasn’t just on his hands, however, but

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covered his shirt in arcs, and even some of the front of his jeans. There was also a noticeable tension about him that, no matter how many lungfuls of nicotine he drew in, didn’t lessen it. While his body was strung tight, his eyes were wild. A dark hunger swam in their depths, and now that she was here in front of him, all of that intensity focused on her. This wouldn’t be the first time she had seen him covered in someone’s blood, and like the time before, it didn’t particularly move her. She had long ago accepted that men of the Bratva did awful things. Whether it made her a terrible person, she was more concerned with how Luka was doing than the unfortunate person who had crossed him. But while she might not have feared Luka hurting her, not in a physical sense at least, she was wary. A distinct difference existed between the person he had been before

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he left and the person who now stood in front of her. Laying her hand on the arm of the couch, she felt his gaze on her like a physical touch as she swallowed. “What can I do?” She knew better than to ask him what had happened tonight, but she did hope that she could help him. His head canted to the side, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Are you afraid?” The way he asked the question, the accent that he was always so careful to hide now twisting around his words, made her wonder if she should be. “Of course not.” “Snow wasn’t either.” Another long drag of his cigarette. “At first.” Alex licked her lips, turning her face away at the sound of his name. First, the shame hit her, reminding her of what she had done some weeks ago, then came the implication of his words.

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“Snow? You were with Snow tonight?” Luka stubbed out the cigarette, moving—stalking towards her as he blew out a stream of smoke. He came within a hair’s breath of her, his fingers reaching out to stroke along her jaw. Dark emotion radiated out of him, but he was gentle with her. For now. “He didn’t last very long,” Luka said almost thoughtfully. “And I probably enjoyed it more than I should have, but…” He shrugged, cupping her face so that he forced her to look up at him. “It was worth it.” “Luka—” “I would have killed him anyway. Thought about it, actually. This nameless, faceless person you were spending all your time with. I hated that shit. Hated thinking about it. Obsessing over it. But I would have let it go if he was making you happy. Even if it wasn't me making you happy, I would have accepted it.” His grip on her face grew

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firmer, but it didn’t hurt. Even in his frenzied state, he wouldn’t hurt her. “But he wasn’t making you happy. And for what he did to you…spending three hours on him wasn’t enough.” She didn’t have to ask where Snow was now. His presence here with her and the state of his clothes told her everything she needed to know. But what she didn’t know was why, if he had done what he’d sought out to do, he was still brimming with pent-up emotion. Before she had the opportunity to question him further, his lips slammed down on hers, forcing her to accept what he was giving. For a second, she was shocked to do anything more than just stand there, but her resistance fled, and she responded in kind, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kissed her as if he was starved, as if it was the one thing on Earth he needed. She felt consumed by him.

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And yet…she could sense that he was holding back from her. If this were what he needed to bring him back down, she would happily give it to him, so she had to make sure he knew that. Releasing her hold on him, she laid her hands flat on his chest and pushed. Though he’d barely moved an inch, she widened the distance between them, gazing up at him boldly, waiting to see what he would do next. His pupils expanded, that same predatory smile spreading. Every instinct inside her told her to run, even knowing that he would catch her. And as that flood of awareness hit her, she realized that she wanted that too. Alex refused to give him her back, wanting to see his next move, and the moment she took another step back. She didn’t have to say a word for him to understand.

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He knew exactly what she was offering him. There were no words spoken. Before she had even made it to the foot of the stairs, he was on her, practically tearing her clothes off, the material scoring her skin as he ripped it from her body. She stumbled, crashing down to the floor, but he’d hooked an arm around her waist, blunting that pain. His lips were everywhere all at once. Drifting over her jaw, his teeth bit down on the sensitive cord of her throat, wrenching a cry from her, but the sound only spurred him on further. One hand drifted up between their bodies, pulling the cup of her bra down so he could palm her breast, then squeezing harshly, slapping, and pulling at her hardened nipple. She tugged at his belt, making quick work of it as she got it and his jeans undone,

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reaching in to pull his cock free, making a fist around it, slowly moving up and down. Grunting, a curse left his lips as he seized her mouth in another brutal kiss. Learning how best to pleasure him had taken some time, but now she knew just the right amount of pressure to maintain. He pulled his other arm from beneath her, his hand going between her legs. He tugged her panties to the side, his fingers slipping along her sex. From the second he had touched her, she was ready for him, her body responding to his brutality. She didn’t think she had ever been so wet in her life. First, one finger was pushed inside her, then another, curling upwards to hit her sweet spot. “Please fuck me,” she said in a desperate cry, squeezing his cock for emphasis. Those words seemed to break the rest of his restraint. Slipping his fingers free of

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her, his hands latched onto her thighs with bruising force, dragging her closer. One minute, he was lining himself up at her entrance, and the next, he was inside of her in one quick thrust. Alex sucked in a breath at the sudden invasion, the pain momentarily making her all too aware of his size. But that pain was quickly forgotten as he began to move. The frenzy was ever present in his eyes as he looked down on her, but rational thought seemed to have escaped him. “Yes, more.” He had always been careful with her, treating her like porcelain. But as he rammed himself inside her, using his hands and teeth to mark her all over, he finally seemed as lost to this passion as she had always felt. Just when she was getting used to his sudden invasion, he was pulling out of her. He flipped her over, her breath leaving her in

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a rush as he pulled her up on to her knees, his hands squeezing her hips as he covered her back, thrusting right back inside of her. With each jolt, a helpless moan escaped her, but he never let up. His hand was fisted in her hair as he pulled, exposing her neck to his mouth as he used his lips, and tongue, and teeth to send jolts of pleasure through her. Even still, she didn’t think he was giving her everything because, with every noise that she made, he adjusted, as if he was attuned to find the best way to make this good for her. With his hand twisted in her hair, he pulled her up until her back was to his chest, his lips at her ear. “Will you cum for me?” The words were guttural, punctuated by his sharp thrusts, and it was all she could do to answer his question. Not with words, but with a single jerky nod of her head—but

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that wasn’t good enough for him. No, he wanted her to verbalize her answer. “Answer me.” “God, yes…please!” His fingers found her clit, rubbing in the same frantic rhythm as his thrusts, forcing her toward the edge she hadn’t been ready to reach. But it wasn’t until he moved his hand, bringing it back with a firm slap, that she crested over, unable to fight the orgasm that had overcome her. When she came down, awareness slowly piercing the haze, Luka was still just as hard, buried inside her. She could feel his lips curve at the shell of her ear. “Not done yet.” ____ Luka was gone when she woke up the next morning, but it didn’t feel like it. It was almost like his presence took up the entirety of the room, and she could still feel him

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along her skin, inside of her like he had always been there. Alex stretched, wincing slightly as she reached for the shirt she’d been wearing the night before, only to find it ripped, as were her panties. When he’d said he wasn’t done, she hadn’t realized that he meant hours of him working out his aggression, using her body to do it. They’d gone from the floor to the nearest wall where she distinctly remembered the paintings hung there rattling and then finally up into his bedroom. Blushing at the reminder, she headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She didn’t bother to look in the mirror until after it was done, and when she did, she had to blink a few times to make sure that she saw correctly. She bruised easily, but she didn’t think she bruised that easily. Glaring purplish marks practically covered her from

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her neck down, a bite mark on her stomach, and she could just see where his fingers had gripped her. No wonder she’d felt so sore getting up. Last night, she didn’t remember it being painful at all. Throwing on a dress that almost skimmed the middle of her thighs, she went in search of him, the sound of running water drawing her out the front door. Luka was in a pair of low-slung jeans, a water hose in his hand as he sprayed down his Jeep, even hosing down the interior as well, suds forming with each pass of the water. His shoulders were visibly relaxed, and he seemed far calmer than he had the night before when he had come in…speaking of, Alex still didn’t know what had inspired that reaction in him, especially since he’d come back covered in blood. Now, she was the one who was worried. “Luka.”

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He turned his head in her direction as she approached, and Loki trotted from behind the car as he heard her voice. When she was close enough to touch him, he turned off the water, dropping it on the ground near his feet. When Luka wasn’t smiling, something was definitely wrong. His fingers curled around her chin, tilting her face up, his eyes drifting to the skin exposed there as her hair fell back over her shoulder. “Should I apologize for that?” Reaching for his hand, she moved it free from her neck but kept hold of it. “Apologize for what?” Faster than she would have thought, he led her back into the house. Walking her to the hallway bathroom, he picked her up, setting her on the edge of the sink as his gaze swept over her. She might not have seen what had upset him about her neck, but she

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could clearly see the finger impressions on her inner thighs, the width of which fit his hands perfectly. “It doesn’t hurt,” she explained, hoping to take away some of his worry, but her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He was careful as he traced the markings, seemingly hypnotized by them. She chewed on her bottom lip for a second as she contemplated what he was thinking. He didn’t want to hurt her, she knew that for sure, and he could very well see this as hurting her. Instead of pondering, though, she asked, “Luka, what are you thinking?” Though he’d turned his face slightly away, she could just see his lips turn up. “Whether you’ll let me do this again.” Luka finally looked at her when she shivered, his smile turning from amused to carnal. “I can’t say I’ll always be gentle.”

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And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to be. “So is that what you did?” she asked uncertainly, playing with the ends of her hair as she looked past him. “When you were with Natasha, I mean. Is that—” “Do you really want me to answer that?” No, she didn’t. But at the same time, she wanted to know the answer, not really the part about Natasha, but about how he handled stress. Whatever had gotten to him last night was obviously a big deal because she couldn’t remember a time when he had lost control that way. He surprised her by answering with what she really wanted to know. “Sometimes I’ll take a job that I know will get bloody, gives me another excuse to work it out. Other times, well you were there last night. Pain helps me focus.”

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She frowned, her brows knitting together. “Pain? How did I cause you pain?” He turned around and for the first time, she saw the deep scratches on his back, and she didn’t have to ask how they had gotten there, vaguely remembering digging her nails into him. He smiled, a trace of dark humor in the expression. “You gave as good as you got.” She would not blush. “Are you okay now?” “Better than that, love,” he said kissing her forehead. “Better than that.”

35 ____ Natasha Spring was in the air, the sweet floral scent of the flower shop next door combatting with the constant stench of exhaust that hung in the air. Natasha paid this no mind as she stashed the money she had earned from the past twenty-four hours into the black clutch she carried, stopping at the curb to hail a cab. Ever since the Gilded Room had closed, Natasha had had to find work on her own, refusing to work a minimum wage job that wouldn’t support her lifestyle. The other girls she used to work with were different

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from her in that way. She didn’t like mediocre things. She much preferred the finer things often gifted when she did her job correctly. It wasn’t a bad occupation, even if it wasn’t what she’d set out to do in her life. Her parents were immigrants. They had moved to America before she was born. They had worked hard to provide her with a good life, but that hadn’t really shown in the clothes she wore and the things in their home. At one time, Natasha had grown to resent them for not being able to accomplish the same things other families had after voyaging across the sea. Of course, back then, she hadn’t known what else those families did to earn money. She only saw the result of it. From that point forward, she knew she wanted something more, something she didn’t possess, and all her life, she’d strived to find it.

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Except, she hadn’t gone looking for the Bratva, the Bratva found her. The next thing she knew, she was working under those guys and making more than she had ever dreamed. She had never looked twice at any of the men who considered themselves her ‘bosses,’ at least until she met Luka, and that was only after a client got a little out of hand. Natasha didn’t think she had ever really been attracted to violence before she met him, before she saw what he could do with his hands alone. Seeing him so effortlessly bring someone to the brink of death, only to hold back at the last second, allowing them to take another breath…she had wanted him badly after that. But he wasn’t around much after that, at least until he was assigned to pretty much be their pimp. Then, it had been easy enough to convince him to get in her bed. He’d been reluctant—at least until she’d convinced him

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that it would be nothing more than the pair of them enjoying an hour together, no strings attached. Only then did he jump all over her. In the beginning, he’d constantly made sure she understood that it would never get any deeper between them. She had been okay with that too, but the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to know about his life, and the more she wanted to be a permanent part of it. And she was willing to wait for that to happen. She could be patient. She knew that it wouldn’t be easy to convince him that she was worth it, but that didn’t mean she had given up hope. It only meant she was in it for the long haul. But that fucking bitch, Alex Volkov, beloved sister of Mishca and the Bratva princess, had somehow dug her way into Luka’s heart, making it all the more difficult for Natasha to remain there. She hadn’t thought much of it. After all, Alex had only

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been a minor when she’d made her crush known and Luka didn’t seem to reciprocate her feelings. Natasha still didn’t understand what changed between them. The only thing she knew was Luka had dropped her like she never meant a thing to him. She’d been more than a little pissed, wishing that she could do something to get back at him for getting her hopes up, but as of yet, she hadn’t figured anything out. But she would soon, and she would make sure he was as hurt by what she did as she was by him. As the cab pulled to a stop, she climbed in the back, slamming the door shut as she gave her address to the cabbie and got comfortable. After she’d moved out of the house with the other girls, she’d found an apartment just outside of the Bronx. Not as great as she would have liked, but she made do.

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Pulling off her jacket as she entered her apartment, Natasha pulled the money from her bag, counting it out as she headed for her bedroom…until she noticed the man casually sipping his drink in the chair near her window. “How the hell did you get in here?” Natasha asked, refusing to move from where she stood. Carefully, she dipped her hand into her coat pocket, feeling for her phone. “I’m a friend of Valon’s—or are you calling him Luka? I really should learn to keep those straight. Oh, there’s no use in calling him, but I think you know that since he’s essentially dropped you for the younger one, Aleksandra, no?” Anger, and something very much like jealousy, coursed through her, but she tried not to let that show. “What do you want?” “Not much…just an address will do. I just want to have a word with her.”

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She laughed, genuinely. “Right. You think I’m going to hand over the address of Alex Volkov, the sister of the Pakhan. Either you’re very stupid or very brave. If the Pakhan didn’t kill you for going near his sister, Luka definitely will.” The last was said with a bitter note, and she couldn’t have kept it out of her voice if she’d tried. “I like my life the way it is, thanks.” “Are you sure about that?” he asked, looking at her with something akin to pity. “You were a whore for the Russians, then you were a willing whore to our friend Valon, but he traded you in, didn’t he? When he found something better? You couldn’t have enjoyed that. He was supposed to be your way out.” The man sighed, getting to his feet, leaving behind a white business card. “But you couldn’t have known that he would never choose you. He might enjoy fucking whores, but he would never marry one.”

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Anger simmering in her blood, she glared at him. “You don’t know shit about it.” “I know more than you think. I know the only whore he ever loved was his mother. Call me when you change your mind.” He sounded so sure like he just knew that Natasha would change her mind, but despite how she despised Alex, she valued her own life too much. Before she could offer up another retort, however, he was out the door, the lone business card the only reminder that he’d even been there. She walked over to it, turning it over in her hands. His name—Fatos?— was scrawled across the top, a number written below it. For a man who was trying to do something unsavory, he was quite bold in leaving his name. She was tempted—if it meant Alex was out of the picture, there would be no one else to snare Luka’s attention—but she also wasn’t a foolish girl. The likelihood of him

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coming back to her was slim…but if he knew about this, if she told him about the man, then he would owe her a favor. Slipping the card into her pocket, she pulled her coat back on, leaving back out. She hailed a cab back to the city, seeing Mishca’s club not far in the distance as she climbed out after paying her fare. His truck wasn’t outside, but he could have parked in the back for all she knew. The closer she got to the club, she found herself running fingers through her hair, checking to make sure her makeup was still in place. There was no reason Luka should have affected her this much, but somehow he’d dug his way into her skin. And instead of pushing him back, she had welcomed it. Her mistake. Natasha was almost to the door when she saw her, walking out, her attention on the phone in her hand. Alex looked like every other spoiled rich girl in this city.

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Shiny blond hair, big green eyes, and a wardrobe envied by nearly every girl in this country. She had everything she could possibly want, but she still had to have more. Natasha wanted to hate her, but mostly she envied how everything came so easily to her. Finally, Alex lifted her gaze from her phone, immediately falling on Natasha as though she had sensed she was there. First came the look of surprise before she quelled it, her mask in place. “Natasha, hi.” Considering every name Alex had called her in the past, it was amazing that she actually knew what her name was. “Where’s Luka?” She cleared her throat, glancing back at the club. “Not here. Is there something wrong? Anything I can help you with?” “Like I would ever need anything from you.”

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“Listen, I was rude to you, more often than I probably can remember. I was wrong and not trying to make excuses, but I was a pretty shitty person back then to a lot of people.” Alex brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I want to apologize—No, I am apologizing. I’m sorry for the things I said, the way I treated you. If you want, I’ll tell Luka you’re looking for him.” She was apologizing? To her? Resentment filled her as she glared at Alex. Of course she could apologize, she had gotten Luka, the one person that Natasha wanted for herself. “You’ll never be enough for him,” Natasha couldn’t help but say, sinking low enough that she had to say something, anything if it meant that someone else was hurting, even if it was just a fraction of what she felt. And her emotions were only made worse by the fact that Alex didn’t look hurt

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by what she was saying. She actually looked like she felt sorry for her. “I’ll tell him to call you.” This time, Alex didn’t wait for her to respond. She just walked off, leaving Natasha to stand on the curb, angrier than she had ever felt in her life. Back at her apartment, she tried not to think about the Albanian and the words he’d said to her. But the more she sat in her apartment, the more her phone called to her and the need to call Luka. She hadn’t talked to him much at all since Mishca had shut down the operation, nor had she really seen any of the Russians that she’d known during her time working for them. Her thoughts scattered when her phone rang, a number she had never seen before lighting up the screen. She only hesitated a second before connecting the call. “Hello?” “What do you need?”

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Luka had always been brusque, but she didn’t think he had ever sounded as short with her as he did now. Not even when he’d come to her place to break it off after he’d finally decided to be with Alex. “You could at least say, ‘hello, how are you.’ That’s the least you could do, Luka.” “Hello. How are you? Now, what do you need?” Struggling for patience, Natasha said, “I was trying to see you earlier—” “Alex told me. All of it.” A hint of anger entered his voice. “Careful what you say next. She asked me to call. That’s the end of my obligation.” At that moment, Natasha forgot all about telling him about the man that had visited her. “So, as long as I let you do whatever you wanted to me, then I was okay. But now that you’re with the princess, I’m just another whore?” “I never called you a whore.”

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“That’s all you have to say? I gave you everything! We were happy, and now you’re acting as though I mean nothing to you because you’ve finally had your taste of young pussy?” It was the wrong thing to say. His silence told her that, and it was too late for her to take it back, but more than that, she didn’t want to. Fuck Alex. Fuck her brother. And fuck the entire Volkov Bratva. “Don’t ever talk about her like that,” he said calmly. “You won’t like what I do if I hear it again. This is it, Natasha. Stay away from Alex and don’t ask for me again.” He hung up, the click sounding loud in her ears. She was hurt, embarrassed, and more importantly, she was angry. She wanted to rage, to destroy the few precious things in her apartment so something else could feel as broken as she

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did, but there was a better way to get back at Luka for his carelessness. Pulling the card out, she didn’t waste any time dialing the number.

36 ____ Reminders “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Alex asked as they stopped in front of Lauren’s building. She had yet to take her eyes off him since they pulled off. Before, he would have told her, or at least given her some information that would quell the anxiety she felt. He didn’t know much more than she did, but he knew as much as she did, Mishca’s call cryptic and short. The only assignment he’d been given was to deliver Alex to Lauren’s apartment and make sure they stayed there, and then he was to drive to the address given.

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“I don’t know much,” Luka responded, dragging her across the seat so he could plant a kiss on her lips. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be for you to worry about.” Rolling her eyes, Alex pulled away from him, her hand going to the car door. “Not you, too.” He smiled, shrugging. “For good reason. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “Yeah, knowing you, you’d shoot first and ask questions later,” she joked. He helped her out of the Jeep, his smile tight but genuine. “I’d burn this city to the ground.” A part of her was thrilled at those words, but the new rational side didn't like them as much. It was one thing to say what he was willing to risk to protect her, but he was also saying he would risk himself and she didn’t want that. When he readied to leave, she hesitated, wanting to call him back but not

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wanting to look foolish. If there was one person who could handle himself, it was Luka. It was his job after all, but that didn’t stop the sliver of anxiety from racing through her at the thought of whatever unknown he was going out to face. He glanced back at her, pausing midstep before returning to her. His hand cupped the nape of her neck as he dragged her forward, his mouth swooping down to connect with hers. Just a brief touch, but it was all she needed to calm herself. “I’ll see you soon.” ____ There was nothing quite like the smell of a burned body and decomp. The moment Luka stepped foot onto the property, his gaze searched the surrounding area in case someone had decided to stick around, and the scents assaulted his nose. The second he was used to. He’d been around enough dead

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bodies to recognize it, but the first made his heart skip a beat. He was the first one to arrive though Mishca had made the call. As he waited beside his truck, staring at another ghost of his past, he lit a cigarette, taking in deep pulls, hoping the nicotine could do what he couldn’t. Luka should have been prepared, should have known that the moment Fatos had shown his face, this would be next. He couldn’t know what was inside, but he had a pretty good idea. Fatos, unlike anyone he knew, knew how to fuck with someone’s head. Finally, after ten minutes had passed, two cars pulled up, one modern and sleek, the other older and in need of a wash. Mishca stepped out of one, and Klaus climbed out of the other. And seeing that mercenary, whose eyes immediately cut to

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him from where he stood, Luka knew this wasn’t going to end well. All three of them shared a history with this place, Luka and Klaus more than Mishca. And that history was different for each of them. But it was safe to say that this place was not looked upon fondly. No one spoke as Mishca led the way inside, following the twisting pathway to the front door as they had been there often. But it was hard to forget a place like this one. Klaus had nearly died here, suffering for something he had no control over, and it wasn’t that long ago that Lauren had been brought here by Brahim to suffer a similar fate. Such brittle memories filled this place that it felt like those were the only things keeping this place standing. There was nothing on the first floor that was noteworthy, and as they ventured upstairs, Luka thought about how many

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people he had killed in this place, from his very first time here to his last. When he took a breath as he ascended the stairs behind Mishca, he could almost taste the blood in the air from the day it had covered him. Clearing the stairs, they only had a brief moment to prepare themselves for what awaited them on the other side of the wall. Mishca cursed at what he saw, Luka’s entire body flinched at the sight, but Klaus…Klaus didn’t react at all. His expression was unreadable as they all eyed the two bodies tied to the chairs. A particularly brutal scene brought back memories that were better left buried. As it had since the moment Fatos made his presence known in the city, the countdown ticked ever louder in Luka’s head. He knew it was all catching up with him, but there was one thing that Luka knew. Fatos would never be the one to tell Mishca the truth.

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Not because he was afraid, but because this was a game to him. As long as Luka continued to play it, he would drag it out as long as possible, not caring who he hurt in the process. This was as much a message to Klaus as it was to Luka because he was far more intimately involved with this scene than even Luka. Despite the years, there was nothing that could have hidden the emotion in Klaus’s eyes as he looked, not to the dead Russian who bore many of the same injuries as Klaus once had, but to the burned corpse that was unrecognizable. Oblivious to his surroundings, or lost in his memories, Klaus reached for the chain he normally kept hidden beneath his shirt, clasping the charm dangling from it. This would have been his fate had Luka not checked for the one thing that would have proved he’d been telling the truth under the onslaught of his torture. No

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one knew about that simple truth however, not even Klaus. After what Luka had done to him, he doubted that would have made much of a difference, so he’d never bothered to reveal that. Realizing that they, too, were lost in their own thoughts, Luka broke the silence. “What do you want to do?” But the question was left unanswered as Klaus seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under. Neither Luka nor Mishca said a word as they watched, with varied expressions, as Klaus walk toward the burned body, kneeling before her. He reached out, his hand hovering next to her face, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. She was burned far beyond recognition, but Luka didn’t think Klaus cared about that, not when he was seeing the face of someone else in her place. While he was lost in his memories, Mishca turned to look at Luka, his gaze

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furious, but he was calm as he spoke. “Burn this fucking place to the ground. Leave nothing behind.” With a tight nod, Luka waited for him to leave, his phone already in hand, before he dared approach Klaus. Slowly, as he came to his feet, Luka realized what it was about Klaus that so many feared, but not until it was too late. He didn’t vibrate with rage the way Mishca did. He didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. When he did show he was angry, that was because he actually wanted you to see it, not because he couldn’t contain it. Now…Luka was seeing the hidden monster he’d played a part in creating. They all had them, he knew, but it was rare that Klaus showed his. “He’s going to die,” he said just loud enough for only Luka to hear, but that didn’t make his words any less powerful. “Whether

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you like it or not. Stay out of my way, or you can die with him.” Scrubbing a hand down his face, Luka got to work. ____ Luka was unusually silent when he picked her back up and they started the journey back to his place. Now that she was seeing him again, she could tell that there was more to his somber moods than Snow. She reached for his hand where it rested between them, intertwining her fingers with his, offering him comfort. When he briefly squeezed, she relaxed a little. Back at his house, he disappeared into the bathroom and she up into his room. Tomorrow would be another long day of practicing that she couldn’t afford to miss. She packed a bag, dropping in her sweats, tape, and leotard. When she was wrapping the ribbons around her pointe shoes, tucking them into a side pouch, she heard the

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unmistakable sound of glass breaking, then Loki’s sharp bark. Déjà vu hit her as she left the room and headed back downstairs, finding Loki sitting in from of the bathroom door. A quick scan of the room told her she hadn’t heard any glass out there. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the bathroom, shutting Loki out. There wasn’t much space, Luka’s towering frame taking up most of the room. But she could see what had happened, judging from the shattered glass of the mirror, the spot of blood in its center. “Luka…” She called his name hesitantly, waiting to see his reaction before moving closer. His shoulders visibly tightened, but he’d at least stopped the pacing he’d been doing in the tight space of the bathroom. “Yeah.” “Can I help?”

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Blood was dripping on the floor from his wounded hand, but he seemed oblivious to the injury or even to the pain she knew he had to be in. When he didn’t outright deny her request, she slowly walked in. She circled him until she was at his front, carefully picking up his hand so she could inspect the damage. There were still bits of glass embedded in his flesh, blood oozing out around the shards. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” He was studying her with such pale, emotionless eyes before he nodded toward the cabinet beneath the sink. She retrieved it along with a pair of tweezers and a bottle of peroxide, setting it all on the counter beside her. She was careful as she moved around since there was glass all over the floor and she was only wearing a pair of socks. Luka, realizing this, looped an arm around her waist, lifting her up until she was sitting on

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the sink, pushing her legs apart so he could stand between them. It was hard not to react to him, especially when they were this close. He practically exuded a raw menace, yet she remembered what he had told her once, about how he enjoyed a little pain. Swallowing, she cleared her throat, reaching for his hand again, more than a little aware of the other that he had resting beside her hip. “Do you want to talk about it?” Picking up the tweezers, she doused them with alcohol, pulling his hand closer to her face as she began to painstakingly remove every bit of glass that she could find. He was still quiet, but she didn’t rush him for an explanation. To her, they had all the time in the world. “What if I’m not who you think I am?” She carefully controlled her reaction, not wanting to let him know that the

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question had caught her off guard. “Then who are you? You can tell me.” He sighed, like the weight of the world was back on his shoulders. “You wouldn’t like my answer.” “Luka, we’ve talked about this, or at least I talked and you listened. What is it that you think you’ve done that I would hate you for?” With his hand free of glass, she poured peroxide over it, dabbing away the excess fluid with cotton balls, and then wrapping his hand with gauze and tape. He had yet to answer her question and didn’t seem like he was going to, at least until she was finished. Holding her wrists in his hands, keeping her from touching him further, he forced her to look up at him. There was such misery in the depths of his eyes that she wished for the millionth time that he would just tell her

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what was eating him just so he could be free of it. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she eyed him carefully. “Is this where you tell me that you’re the wrong guy for me? Say that I should stay away from you?” “Why the fuck would I do that?” “I don’t know, Luka. Why would you do this?” she asked, gesturing to his hand. “Whatever this secret is that you’re hiding…it’s obviously eating at you.” The restraint was eating at him, and she almost thought he was going to break, but he shook his head, looking away. “It’s been a long fucking day. I need some sleep.” Pushing away from her, he was out of the bathroom before she could utter a protest. There was no point in arguing the point with him, not when he wasn’t ready to open himself up. Luka was stubborn that way.

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Up until this point, she had been content to wait for him to come to her, but now…she was frustrated at not being able to help him. Especially when he didn’t seem to want her help. Sighing in defeat, she hit the lights, leaving the mess to clean up at another time. Back in his room, she stripped out of her clothes. Climbing into bed, she wished once again that things weren’t so difficult for the pair of them. She had only just shut her eyes when Luka brushed her hair back from her face. He was kneeling at her side. “Could you do me a favor?” Without hesitation, she said, “Anything.” He walked out of the room and down the hall. Another door opened, a flood of light hitting the hallway, then Luka was back as quickly as he’d left, slamming the door shut behind him.

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He carried what looked like a shoebox that was a shade of brown and covered with a light layer of dust. He tossed the lid off the side of the bed, reaching in to pull out a silk pouch that made her sit up, holding the sheet to her chest to better see what he was doing. Pulling the strings loose, he turned the pouch over and two hair combs fell out into his palm. He was careful with them, and after a moment, he held them out for her. They weren’t new, that much she could tell, but they were in pristine condition. Three prongs tapered to a point at the bottom, but the real beauty of them were the delicate white flowers, not just etched into the metal, but was actually the biggest part of the combs. It was obvious that these meant a lot to Luka as he had yet to take his eyes off them, but she was worried about the sadness that radiated from him.

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“When you get your first lead role, I want you to wear these.” “Luka…” “They were my mother’s,” he explained as he swept her hair to the side with one hand, carefully placing one of the combs there. “They meant a lot to her. You mean more than that to me. I can’t give you much that you can’t give yourself, but this a piece of me that I won’t…” He trailed off, and not for the first time, she wished she knew what he was thinking. “Keep these, so you’ll always have a piece of me with you.” She gave him a shaky smile, nodding though nothing about this felt right. Something was going on with him. Something far beyond what she had originally suspected, and though she had wanted him to come to her about it, she couldn’t wait any longer. “What’s troubling you, Luka?” She kept hold of his hand before he could pull

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away. “And don’t say it’s nothing. I know better than that.” He smiled slightly, just the smallest quirk of his lips. “It’ll all be over soon.” But that neither answered her question nor quelled her fears.

37 ____ The Glass Coffin Now more than ever, Alex was practicing, spending long hours in the studio so she could get ready for the upcoming audition. And the more time she spent there, the more she improved, and soon she found herself going there just because she missed it. Sometimes, she forgot how empty her life had become since she’d left Paris. Finally, after so long, things were looking up. Packing up the last of her things, she pulled the strap of her bag on her shoulder and headed for the door.

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The journey from the studio back home wasn’t a long one, and Alex had walked it enough times not to worry about the distance, but as her shoes slapped against the concrete sidewalk, loud in the silence of the night, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone, she was too distracted by the text message she was trying to send to notice the van idling at the curb. It took only a few seconds to pass it, and as she cleared the rear of it, the doors came open and a man slipped out silently. She’d just pressed send, her finger still hovering over that button when large hands grabbed her, a dirty cloth reeking of sweetly-smelling fumes shoved in her face. Her phone clattered to the ground as she reacted immediately and violently, trying to free herself. Her thoughts scrambled. Every instruction that Luka had ever given her fled from her mind. The only thing she could do

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was react on instinct, but that wasn’t enough, not when the man was so easily overpowering her. She even tried to hold her breath, but in her panic, she only managed to breathe in more of the fumes. Vision beginning to blur, strength weakening, Alex tried one last desperate attempt to get free, but it was too late. She was already caught. ____ Consciousness returned slowly, like her head was stuffed with cotton and she was fighting through it all. She didn’t remember, not at first. It was like the world had ceased to exist, if only for a short time. For a few precious moments, Alex came awake thinking she was at Luka’s, but as the pungent scent of the earth surrounded her, it all came rushing back. The worst was not knowing how long she had been in there. Darkness surrounded her on all sides. She had once found comfort in it, but this

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felt suffocating. She made to sit up but came up short when her hands came into contact with something hard just above her and to her sides. She knew, without having to see, that she was in a coffin, and from what she could feel, it was made of some kind of hard plastic. Breathing deeply, she tried not to let the renewed panic get to her. Instead, she made use of her hands, feeling for anything that could help her. Her fingers slipped around something cylindrical, and as she grabbed hold of it and hit the button on the side, yellow light poured from one end of it. Hand shaking, she aimed it above her and couldn’t stop the cry of alarm from slipping out of her. Someone had buried her alive. Reaching over her once more, she laid her hand flat against the surface, pushing with what little strength she had, blood

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rushing in her ears as she felt it give. Dropping the flashlight, she used both hands now, nearly crying in relief as it moved more, but the hope that had bubbled inside of her was dashed as the top wouldn’t go any further than an inch. Something, something she couldn’t see, was preventing her from moving it any more. Every last bit of calm she’d tried to muster vanished as desperation seized her as she shoved and kicked—her shoes missing—trying to get it open. If anything, she would pass out from the exertion, but she wasn’t going to give up. This wasn’t how she was going to die. Just as she readied a cry for help, a voice called out and silenced her. “I wouldn’t struggle too much—wouldn’t want you to waste what little oxygen you have.” Every part of her rebelled at following that command, but the rational side of her knew that he was right. She had to calm

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down, and she figured, if he was talking to her, he didn’t plan to leave her down there. …Maybe. But maybe was all she had. Her prison jostled as someone landed on top of it. She didn’t have to wonder who for long as the layer of dirt—not as thick as she had previously assumed—was swiped away, a face appearing above her own. He wasn’t frowning at her. There wasn’t any anger in his gaze. In fact, he merely looked…curious, like she was some kind of experiment that he was trying to figure out. She didn’t recognize him, and from what she could see, he lacked the markings that would let her know if he was one of them. He was, however, dressed in a suit, the jacket gone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Whoever he was, Alex didn’t think this was a random occurrence.

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Seeing that he held her attention, his mouth turned up at the corners. His smile grew, and what confused her more was the fact that it was genuine. He brushed more dirt away, giving her a clearer view of the…was that the roof? From what she could tell, she was looking up through the floor, to a hole in another level, until she was squinting, trying to see if she was correct in her thinking. “Glad to see that you’re finally awake. I feared I might have killed you.” She was too confused and scared to formulate a response, but he filled the silence. “I will say that you’re much prettier than the last one.” She didn’t bother to ask why she was there—she’d heard on more than one occasion what happened to those in families like hers—the only question was what he sought. “Is this about money? My brother—”

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He shook his head before she could finish. “Why do people always assume it’s about the money? Some of us—me, in particular—enjoy the finer things in life. Anguish provides me with far more joy than currency.” His gaze dropped to her face again, his fingers stroking the glass top as if touching her skin. Disgusted by the way he was looking at her, she asked, “Who are you?” “Fatos, but I doubt you heard of me as I do no business with Russians.” Fatos…that name sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place why she knew it. Who was he, and why was she here? “Then why am I here? What do you want?” Alex didn’t know why she was so calm, not freaked out by the fact that she was literally in a glass box with a madman kneeling above her.

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No, she was afraid, but it had yet to overwhelm her. “Tell me. How much do you think your life is worth?” “Please,” Alex said, “just tell me what you want.” He sighed, rising to his feet as he lifted himself back out of the hole. “You know what I would like? To hear you beg. So, go on. Let’s hear it.” Just out of sight, he reached for a tool on the ground, and when he returned, she saw that he was holding a shovel. As the first layer of dirt crumbled down above her, Alex jumped. Once, Mishca had told her never to give in to anyone, but at that moment, the only thing she wanted was to get out of that hole. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she brought them up against

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the glass, trying to lift it even as she spoke. “Please.” “Sorry?” He cupped a hand to his ear, leaning down. “I couldn’t hear you.” Desperation seized her, making her frantic as she balled her hands into fists, pounding them against her glass prison though the top didn’t move an inch. “Please! I can get you whatever you want! Just let me out!” Tears stung her eyes… Her heart raced… Her breaths came in sharp bursts… But as quickly as her panic set in, she drew in a breath, clamping her mouth shut. She ignored the pain that bloomed to life as she bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from uttering another word. Making him an offer wasn’t working, nor was begging for her life. If anything, the sound of her begging only seemed to excite him.

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Whatever his true purpose, it wasn’t for her to know. Helpless to do anything more, she watched as the dirt rained down above her, until darkness surrounded her. With each shovelful, she flinched once more. She was going to die here ____ “Have you talked to Alex?” Niklaus Volkov, or Klaus if you wanted to live, frowned though the person on the other end of the phone couldn’t see it. He’d been busy polishing the barrel of a new semi-automatic he had acquired for the job he’d been putting off for months now. With the Kingmaker—his new handler who refused to give his name to anyone—breathing down his neck to get it done, he was out of time…and out of excuses. Even if the job didn’t sit well with him, which was rare in itself, he’d already accepted the contract.

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“Hate to tell you this, but I’m not her keeper,” he mumbled, more focused on his task than Luka. “I’d expect you to know since you’re together.” They didn’t have to admit it for Klaus to know. It was easy enough to read whenever they were in the same room together. “I’ve called her and she didn’t pick up.” “Still not sure what you want me to do about that.” It was clear Luka was getting frustrated with him. “You know someone who can.” That was true enough. Klaus had friends everywhere, but those friends came at a price. “You’re already dragging your feet in paying one debt. Why would you want another? Shit, why would I accept another?” Klaus didn’t understand blind loyalty. He couldn’t understand how Luka still protected the bastards who had nearly killed

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them both. If he were in the Albanian’s shoes, he would have handed Fatos over in a heartbeat, if only to protect his own interests. A click sounded in his ear. Klaus frowned, glancing at the screen, reading the number that was flashing on the screen. He didn’t recognize it. “Hold that thought.” Without waiting for Luka’s response, Klaus answered the new call. “Yeah?” “I’ve left a gift for you.” Frowning, Klaus tried to place the voice, sure he had heard it before, but when he couldn’t, he dismissed it for the time being. “I don’t like gifts.” “You’ll like this one.” The mystery person on the other end hung up. Klaus, reconnecting the call with Luka, got to his feet. Going over to the bed, he slipped the case out from beneath it.

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Unlatching the locks, he pulled it open, pulling one of the 9mm handguns free. Klaus hadn’t been entertaining the caller. He didn’t like gifts, nor did he like surprises. “Where are you?” “Why does it matter?” He had barely had the time to screw the silencer onto the end of his gun when there was a knock at the door. He didn’t have a good feeling about who would be on the other side of it. Taking a moment to check the peephole, he eyed the man on the other side, waiting until he relaxed his guard before yanking the door open and dragging the man inside. Abandoning his phone for the time being, Klaus let it drop to the floor as he pushed the man to the floor, his knee in his chest, his gun beneath his jaw. “Who sent you?” “I—”

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With his free hand, Klaus punched the man in the face. “A name will do.” “You can’t—” Klaus wrapped his finger around the trigger, the challenge in his eyes clear. “Fatos!” he rushed out to say. If anything, the name only made him angrier. “You do realize, don’t you, that he sent you here to die?” There was a trace of fear in his eyes, but there was also the arrogance of a man who thought he knew something. “You can’t kill me until you hear what I have to say.” “Yeah?” Klaus asked entertaining him. “And why is that?” “Only I know where Alex is buried.” Shit. Shit. Grabbing his phone from the floor, he kept his gaze on the man that was now smiling up at him.

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“Your Albanians have Alex. Get your ass back here. I’ll text you an address.” Hanging up, Klaus dialed Mishca. “We have a problem.” ____ There was organized chaos all around them, and through it all, Klaus was the only one to remain levelheaded. Mishca tried, for the sake of his men, to keep his anger contained, but Klaus could see that careful control fracturing. And why wouldn’t it when his sister was buried alive somewhere? Not to mention, they were running out of time. But the Albanian had yet to cave, no matter how Klaus had made him bleed. But he had withstood torture before, the history of it was embedded in his flesh. “Where is he?” Mishca demanded, running an agitated hand through his hair.

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But the question was moot as Luka came bursting through the door, barely sparing them a glance as he focused solely on their captive. Now, finally, they got a reaction from him. It was a mixture of fear and dark glee. Whatever assignment he’d been given, it obviously had more to do with Luka than it did Mishca and the Bratva. Klaus feared he knew all too well what this was really about. Stepping out of the path of Luka’s rage, he watched with thinly veiled anticipation as Luka drew a knife from his pocket. “The address.” It wasn’t a question. “Valon.” For once, Luka didn’t flinch at the name, too focused on his task to realize that his secret was just seconds from being blown. Unlike Klaus, who’d threatened the man by telling him exactly what he would do

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if he didn’t cough up Alex’s whereabouts, Luka immediately acted. Tossing his blade on the table, he reached for a hacksaw, even as the man’s eyes widened in fear, his head jerking back and forth as though that might help him. Lining up the serrated teeth at his wrist, Luka began cutting, not wavering for a second as he cut, blood spraying, the man’s screams echoing in the room. Those who couldn’t stomach the brutality turned away, but neither Klaus nor Mishca turned away. Only when the man’s hand lay detached on the ground did Luka drop the saw. “Fatos doesn’t want her to die. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent you. Deliver your message.” Tears were in the man’s eyes, his pain clear. It took him several minutes to get his breathing under control before he could offer him a response. “I…I don’t know the aaddress.”

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Luka reached for another instrument of torture, but there was no need. “Wait! Fatos…Fatos said to tell y-you that she was where our p-paths c-crossed.” Klaus frowned in confusion, until Luka turned to pierce him with a stare that told him exactly where and why she was there. It was becoming apparent that Fatos planned to reveal all their secrets. “What the fuck is he talking about?” Mishca demanded. “She’s at the house,” Klaus supplied, already heading for the door. Mishca spat out directions to the soldiers who still lingered, exiting without sparing Luka another glance. Luka, who had already turned back to the Albanian, reached for another tool, his movements more measure as he now had more time on his hands. “Call me when you have her.”

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____ Not since she was a little girl had Alex ever feared the dark, but as it surrounded her so completely that she almost felt blind, she wished she had appreciated light a little bit more. She’d fought, as best she could to get free, but her hands merely slipped along the glass. Despite the pain in her hands, she hadn’t been strong enough to break it. Then she’d screamed until her voice had gone hoarse, hoping somebody, anybody, would hear her, but beneath the earth…she had no voice. Alex didn’t mean to cry, didn’t actually realize when it started, but with the first tear shed, the rest came in earnest. This was it. This was how it would end. …Until she heard muffled movement above her.

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It was the slightest of sounds, but it filled her with such hope that she tried calling out again, even as her voice failed her. Movement came, and finally, the dirt shifted above her, just enough that brightness nearly pierced through the darkness that had covered her for so long. Then, a hand swiped another layer away, revealing Mishca’s face. Her relief at seeing him mirrored his own. She reached out for him, crying harder than she had ever cried in her life. “I’m right here,” he said from his position above her, laying his hands flat against the glass where hers rested. “Easy. Breathe.” But no matter how she tried to drag air into her lungs, she couldn’t get enough, to the point that her head was going fuzzy and the image of him blurred. “Klaus, do something!” But whether Klaus responded, she didn’t know.

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She had already passed out again.

38 ____ Safe House “We got her. We’re at the safe house—you know the one.” Klaus was silent for a beat as he took a breath. “She’s gonna want to see you when she wakes up.” Luka ended the call, stuffing his phone back in his pocket, eyeing the man in front of him. He was new to him, didn’t remember him from his time in Berat, but Luka had made sure he understood the gravity of the part he had played in this. It didn’t matter that, as he’d said, he’d only accompanied Fatos and didn’t actually lay a finger

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on Alex. No, that hadn’t mattered to the monster that had taken Luka over. “How did he know about her?” Luka asked, the question having plagued him the entire drive back. No one, except for those closest to him could have known that Alex meant everything to him. It could only mean someone within the Bratva. Now, he just wanted a name. “A woman. That is all I know.” And with that, Luka had his answer. “Please,” he said, the word coming out like mush as Luka had pulled a number of teeth free…and that had been the least of what he had done to the man’s face, not to mention the rest of him. “Just kill me. Please.” Those words would have pleased him more than an hour ago before he had learned that Alex had been taken, but now they did nothing.

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With a move this bold, Fatos told him everything he had been too afraid to acknowledge. He was out of time. Taking his blade, the same one he had walked into this place with, Luka slit the man’s throat and walked away. With each step he took, he heard the clock ticking down. ____ “I thought I would hate you the day Anya told me she was pregnant,” Mishca started thoughtfully when he realized she was awake. As she had slowly come into awareness, she realized she was no longer in the glass coffin but on a bed that she never wanted to leave. Besides a splitting headache and memories of pitch blackness, there were no other reminders that she had been buried not long ago.

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Mishca was beside her on the bed, her tucked into his side, reminding her of a time when they had done this very thing. Before Paris, before he had followed in the footsteps of Mikhail… Here, though she didn’t know for how long, she was safe. Shifting so she could better see him, she waited for him to go on. “But the day you were born, even as you screamed your lungs out, I loved you more than I ever thought I would. And with that realization, I knew that I wanted to protect you from everything, including the life I would ultimately lead.” He looked at her then, and despite the thin smile, there was sadness in his eyes. “I failed at that.” “Mish…” “Not yet,” he said carefully. “I don’t want your forgiveness. Not until I end this. And even then…I’m not sure if you will be willing to offer it.”

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Not sure how to respond to such grave words, Alex changed the subject. “Where’s Lauren?” “Home.” “And does she know that I…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “No. If I had told her, she would have worried more than necessary.” “Good.” The sound of yelling drew her attention from Mishca to the closed door. She knew who was coming for her without having to hear his voice. And with that knowledge, her heart hammered once more. Besides her brother, he was the one other person she desperately needed to see. A sharp yelp of pain sounded just outside the door, and Luka’s voice, louder than she had ever heard it, made her sit up straighter, already anticipating the moment he would be there beside her.

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Mishca slipped off the bed as the door crashed open, Luka standing in the entryway with wild eyes. Despite the company in the room, he only had eyes for her. But it wasn’t just him that ignored Mishca, Alex noticed. Her brother barely spared his enforcer a glance as he left the room without a goodbye, pulling the door closed on his way out. Despite the illusion of privacy, she knew he wouldn’t go far. She was out of the bed in an instant, practically throwing herself in his arms as she clung to him. She felt the tension leave him as his arms came around her and squeezed, taking her breath away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips at her ear. He said it again softer, as if he needed to say it again to make it true. But it wasn’t him that she thought should be sorry. It wasn’t as if it was his fault. And even with the enemies that her family had garnered over the years, she

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didn’t blame Mishca either. No, the blame was solely for the person who had got off on burying her. She shivered, thinking back to how the dirt had sounded as it hit her temporary prison, how pungent the earth had smelled as more and more blocked out the streams of sunlight bleeding in through the glass for that short period of time. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced those images out of her head and tried to focus on the present. There were plenty of times in her life that she had felt fear but not like that. His hair was damp, his skin as well as though he had recently showered. She briefly contemplated why this was, but thoughts of this fled as he gently extracted himself from her hold. He hardly moved away at all, and like the night she had wrecked Mishca’s car, he looked her over starting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His hands

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followed the path of his eyes, even drifting beneath her shirt to skim along her shoulders, along her ribcage, and the down the flat of her stomach. She hadn’t noticed the bruises on her wrists and arms until he lingered over them. “Did you see them?” She had to remember, as Luka asked her that question, that he wasn’t upset with her because the chillingly calm way he asked that made fear slither down her spine. “It was fast, but there were at least two of them, and they both had on masks. I’m sorry, I didn’t—” “Breathe. You’re doing fine. Just finish.” But from the way his body had stiffened, she wondered what she had said to make him have that reaction. She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell Mishca what happened, but maybe he too knew that Luka

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would get it out of her, and he would then relay it to him. “There was a white van, but that’s all I remember because one of them hit me and knocked me out.” Alex looked away from him then, trying not to hyperventilate as she thought about being in that ground. “Next thing I knew, I was in a coffin, and I could hear standing up there. He was holding something metal, the shovel I think, and he kept hitting it against the ground. Every time he would drop more dirt over me, he would tell me what it would be like once I was completely buried. He didn’t care that I was begging him. It was like he was enjoying that the most.” He shushed her then, pressing his lips to her forehead for a moment, wanting to calm her. It helped, but she didn’t know how long it would. “You know I’ll find him, yes?”

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“Of course, but I don’t want you to get hurt over this. Over me.” “Aleksandria.” It was the first time he had ever said her name in its entirety in all the years she had known him. “I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground if I have to.” He kissed her forehead, a promise in itself, and then kissed her so thoroughly that it took her breath away. As quickly as he had come, he was leaving again. “I need to go.” Alex didn’t mean to grab him as tight as she did, but the moment he’d said those words, her hand grabbed his bicep, practically trying to force him to stay. “You can’t leave.” “I have to finish this.” His hands clenched into fists as he said this, then he looked tired all of a sudden. “Stay and rest. No one can get to you here.” With no other choice, she nodded, watching him leave. It wasn’t for her that she

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felt fear now, but for the men they were going to go after. No matter their differences personally, between the three of them—Luka, Mishca, and Klaus—when it came to revenge, they were all in accord. ____ The momentary relief Luka felt at seeing Alex safe was short lived as his mind worked with the possibilities of how this could have happened and what it all meant. Just down the hallway, Mishca and Klaus were waiting, their faces carefully arranged into that of blankness. But Mishca wasn’t as careful and Luka saw the one thing he had hoped never to see in the man’s eyes. Suspicion. Luka didn’t think he had connected all the pieces yet, but it was an easy enough assumption that this was because of him. If they had wanted to hurt Mishca, they could have easily gone after Lauren.

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No, hurting Alex, while it affected Mishca, was aimed solely at Luka. “I’ll take care of it,” he said simply, continuing on and not bothering to explain more as Mishca’s phone chimed. But as he headed out to his Jeep, Klaus was at his heels. “What are you going to do about this?” Klaus asked. Not wanting to acknowledge that he had spoken, Luka kept on, but Klaus wasn’t one to be ignored. “About Fatos. The Albanian. The one who helped carve me up. Oh, and the motherfucker who put Alex in a coff—” He was cut off when Luka turned so fast that Klaus nearly collided with him, but he caught himself just in time to not hit his back. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited, undeterred by the wrath in Luka’s eyes. “End it.”

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Klaus, who had never seemed to care what choices Luka made, looked thoughtful for a second. “Can you?” No one had ever thought he was capable of harming Fatos. Not in all the years they had spent together. Not even Luka, himself. “It was only a matter of time,” he found himself saying as he climbed into the Wrangler, jamming the key into the ignition. “But I could only run for so long.” “You know then that the Russian will know what you’ve done.” He wished otherwise, but… “It was only a matter of time.” Before Fatos, however, he had another stop to make.

39 ____ Breathe…Breathe Luka screeched to a halt outside the older building, nearly ripping his keys out of the ignition as he climbed out and headed for the entrance. He didn’t have to worry about surveillance of any kind, not in this neighborhood. That, at least, was a small favor. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the fifth floor, pushing through the heavy metal door at the end of the hall. His fingers flexed as he faced the closed door that loomed just ahead, but before he could kick the door down the way he wanted, he

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checked the urge and lifted his fist to knock instead. A few seconds was all he needed, and by the time Natasha was pulling that door open, smiling at him in surprise, he’d managed to conceal his anger as best he could. It was there, the interest in her eyes, and even as he was radiating malice, she wouldn’t care. It never bothered her before. “Can I come in?” She hesitated, glancing behind her, though he didn’t know for what. If someone had been in there with her, she wouldn’t have answered the door, or at the very least, not far enough where he could actually see inside. Glancing back at him, she finally nodded and stepped to the side to let him past. Closing the door behind them, she remained there and watched his every move. She couldn’t have known about Alex—there was no one to tell her—but he could see it in her body language that she was nervous

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about him being in her place. Even if he’d had any doubt as to her involvement in this, it was gone now. Feigning ease, he lifted his arms, brushing his fingers through his hair as he pushed it back out of his face. The action drew the hem of his shirt up, enough that her gaze immediately drifted there. He’d done it on purpose, making sure she could see that he wasn’t armed, not that that would do her much good, but it had the desired effect. She relaxed some, pushing away from the door as she headed around him and into the kitchen where she had a glass of wine sitting on the counter. “Why are you here?” she asked, taking a sip. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore?” And he still didn’t. “I needed to see you.” “Oh? And is Alex okay with that?”

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It was the wrong thing to say, and even she realized this as her eyes grew wide when he circled the island to get to her. She wisely took a step back, but there was nowhere for her to go with the refrigerator at her back. “Fatos. What did he offer you?” She had shaken her head before the sentence was fully out of his mouth, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know who that is.” “You’ve known me for three years, and in that time, how many people have come to you about me?” “Yeah? But where was your loyalty to me,” she snapped back, turning it on him. “I’d given you everything, but you turned your back on me the moment she came calling.” He had entertained her pain once, even apologized though he hadn’t felt the need to. Because she had wanted that from him even when she didn’t ask for it.

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Despite her act now, her need to draw him away from what he really wanted to know, it wouldn’t work today. “What did you tell him?” She visibly swallowed, meeting his gaze. “Did he do something to you? He said he wasn’t going to hurt you.” She didn’t know what he had done, no one did, but she could guess, and oftentimes, a person’s imagination was worse than any story told. “Luka, please. You could never be happy with her,” she tried to explain herself. Luka came up behind her, his hands sliding around her shoulders, pulling her back against him. She was crying, apologizing for her part, relaxing in his hold as she thought he was trying to comfort her. But the only thing he could think of was how Alex had suffered because of her.

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“I warned you once,” he whispered next to her ear, his hold gradually growing tighter. “Don’t ever betray me.” She sputtered, gasping for breath as she tried to get free, but Luka was both bigger and stronger than she was. For a little more than a minute, he held her like this, not letting up even when her arms dropped loosely at her sides and her body went lax. No, he waited until her heartbeat faded to nothing before dropping her in a chair. For once, he didn’t stick around and wait for the remorse to hit him. He still had someone left to see.

40 ____ Left Unspoken He was holding her too tight. After Natasha and a conversation with Fatos that hadn’t gone well, Luka wanted nothing more than to spend every moment he could with Alex. They remained at the safe house—that was the only place he could guarantee her safety. When he’d walked through the doors, the men giving him a wide berth and questioning glances, he’d immediately went to Alex’s room, checking to make sure she was where he’d left her. She had been sleeping soundly and stayed that way even after he’d

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showered and redressed, slipping into the bed beside her. Luka had been careful slipping his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. Soon, she had turned, laying her hand over his heart, sighing in her sleep, as if the simple act brought her peace. Exhaustion weighed on him, from what they had just done to everything he’d tried to finish with Fatos and the other Albanians. But he was only one man trying to fight a battle that he had no hope of winning, and he was finally ready, and willing, to accept that. Did he want to give this up? Everything inside of him rebelled at the idea of never seeing Alex again, never seeing the way she smiled at him when he made her laugh, the excitement in those big eyes of hers when she was truly happy. Now that he had finally gotten something to call

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his own, someone that made him believe again, he had to let it go. And he would, if that meant keeping her safe. He had known the risks. More than anything else, she was his weakness. Fatos had exploited that, and he would continue to do so until Luka gave in. That was just the game he liked to play. Life is all about choices, Fatos had told him over the phone, a taunt meant to get under his skin. And it had. The words had burrowed their way inside of him and planted themselves, constantly playing over and over in his head. He could stay here, reveal the truth to Alex, take his chances with the Bratva boss, and hope for the best. But if he went that route, Fatos wouldn’t come after him. He wouldn’t even wage war against the Bratva. He would just find a way to get to Alex, no matter where she went, no matter who was

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there to protect her. Then, just because he wanted to, he would go after Lauren, maybe hurt her or her unborn child. Or… Luka could do what he should have done years ago. Give himself over to the Albanians and do what he did best. Fight his way out. Of course, if Fatos thought Luka would make that choice, he wouldn’t stand for it. No, he had to feel like he had won, as if he had bested Luka, which was something that he had never been able to do since they were children. There was no missing the greed and jealousy that lived inside of Fatos now. He just didn’t know how he had missed it for so long. The only thing he could do now was willingly lose because it wasn’t about him—not even the Bratva or what he had done to Klaus so many years ago—it was about keeping this girl safe from harm.

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Even if Luka was that harm. Very soon, he would lose everything. ____ Over the next three days, there was nothing but radio silence. Mishca had disappeared with Klaus, leaving Luka to watch over Alex. While he had been curious about where they’d gone, he didn’t bother to find out more, not when he could spend his time with Alex. She was recovering well enough. She didn’t seem to have any lingering trauma over being buried alive, but Luka watched her all the same, waiting for any sign that she was about to crack. He kept her occupied with reminders of her upcoming audition, and since it was tomorrow, he thought it would be better if they spent their last night together outside of the safe house. “We’re going back to my place,” he said packing up the last of her things. “Tell me, how did you manage to accumulate so

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much shit when we’ve only been here for a few days?” Alex rolled her eyes, buttoning her jeans as she went for her shoes next. “Don’t forget you brought it all.” Ah, just so. “And I’m okay with staying here.” Luka didn’t want to give too much away, knowing that she could read him better than anyone. “Can’t fuck you here, too many ears.” He smiled though it felt false. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing…” “By all means,” she responded with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get out of here. Besides, I think Loki misses me.” Luka hesitated a moment, pulling her bag strap up his shoulder. “Yeah, he does. You’ll take care of him, yeah? If I’m not around?” “Why wouldn’t you be around?” “Humor me.”

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Just as she could read him, he could see the varying emotions running across her face. Fear. Suspicion. “Of course, I would. You love him and I…I love him, too.” He knew what she’d been about to say, and that thought both elated and saddened him. Clearing his throat, Luka looked away from her. “Let’s get out of here.” The journey from the safe house to Luka’s was a rather long one as he took preemptive measures to make sure nobody followed them. Loki was waiting for them as soon as they cleared the door. He went to Alex first, showing her all the love that she could possibly want. Seeing the two of them together told Luka everything he needed to know. When he was gone, Loki would be in good hands. With one last scratch to Loki’s ears, Alex stood, looking at Luka with an

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expression he couldn’t mistake. “I think you promised me something, Luka.” Laughing, he led her up to his room and gave her exactly what she wanted. For hours, he savored her, wanting to remember everything about this night, wanting to brand a piece of her onto himself. He needed this… Before he didn’t have it anymore. For a long time, Luka lay awake, Alex long since having fallen asleep tucked into his side, the arm she had around him tight even in her sleep, like she was afraid he was going to slip away in the middle of the night. After tonight, he knew he was out of time. Fatos had always been prone to reckless behavior, but what he had done…he was determined to make sure that Luka knew he wasn’t going away quietly.

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Laying in the quiet of his home, Luka also knew that it was time he paid for his sins. He shifted, bringing Alex closer, if that were possible, one hand tangling in the fine strands of her hair. Enjoying her for as long as he could because he knew, with every part of his being, that this might be the last time he was able to have this with her. Though he couldn’t make out the features of her face in the darkness of the room, he stared at her, mapping them out with light passes of his fingertips. He was happy with the peace she had finally been able to find. A peace he had ultimately been able to help give her. If there was nothing else he could take with him, something that was done without care of a reward, he had finally done good. I love you, Alex…and I’m not saying it for you to say it in return. I’m saying it so

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you will know in case I never get the chance to tell you… But yet…he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, not because he was afraid, but because he feared he wouldn’t be around long enough to show her that he meant them. ____ Late into the night, in the wee hours of the morning, Alex woke up, slowly getting her bearings as she blinked her eyes open. Luka was still at her back, his chest rising and falling with each even breath he took, but there was a tension within him that sleep didn’t shake. Now more than ever, she knew something troubled him, and it was eating him up. She couldn’t help but notice that he was showering her with more affection than usual, not that he didn’t otherwise. Luka didn’t whisper sweet nothings. He wasn’t constantly announcing his love,

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but Alex didn’t doubt his love for her. She felt it in everything he did. From the way he made her dinner, constantly trying new recipes if only to impress her. Then there was the way he listened to everything she said in a way that didn’t make her doubt that he actually heard what she was saying. But more than all of that were their nights together. No matter if she fell asleep before him, he would slip in, careful not to jostle her too much as he shifted until he was at her back, his arm slipping around her body. He skimmed his hand beneath the edge of whatever shirt she was wearing, the pads of his fingers drifting over her stomach until she reacted. She couldn’t know for sure, not when he wasn’t willing to share, but she couldn’t help but feel that something bad—something worse than being buried alive—was coming their way.

41 ___ Choices “What’s wrong?” He tried. God, it was so obvious how he tried to force a smile to make her feel better, but now it was too easy for her to read him and the emotions he tried to hide. Ever since she had been buried in that warehouse, things had only gotten worse with him, but not in a way that she fully understood. It was obvious that he felt guilty about what happened to her. No matter how often she said that it wasn’t his fault, he accepted her word but didn’t appear to get any better. Most days he was gone more often than he

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was home. She tried not to make a big deal out of this considering she didn’t want to smother him, but it was beginning to feel like he was pulling away from her, and she didn’t know how to make that stop. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” he asked, not looking at her. “Don’t want you to be late.” It was obvious he was avoiding the question, but she refused to let him. “Luka, talk to me.” But he ignored her, going over to the small chest in the corner of his room, pulling out a gun and a magazine. That did nothing to make her feel better. Anyone that said dogs couldn’t discern human emotion obviously had never spent time around one. As Luka clicked the magazine into place, placing the gun at the small of his back, she could practically feel Loki’s

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probing gaze on him like he, too, knew that this time was different. When he moved to the door, Loki, his ever-loyal companion, attempted to trail behind him. Luka shook his head once, a silent command for Loki to stay, but he didn’t. Crouching down, Luka reached for him, smoothing a hand over the fur at the top of his head. It broke her heart seeing the two of them that way. It didn’t matter that nothing was said, she could feel the change in them. “You’ll watch out for her, won’t you?” Luka whispered so low that she almost didn’t hear him. “And anyone who gives her shit, you have my permission to take a chunk out their ass, yeah?” He stood again, ready to leave once more, but Loki whined, taking a step in his direction. “Stay.” The command even made Alex jump. “You can’t go with me this time.”

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From what he had told her, Alex knew that Loki had been his only companion for the last few years. From the way he was speaking…as though he was never coming back… “Luka—” “Let’s go.” Without much choice, Alex grabbed her bag and followed behind him. As they rode together toward the studio in the heart of Chelsea, Alex reached between the them, clutching his hand and holding it like a lifeline. When they arrived, and Luka put his Jeep into park, she sat with him, undoing her seatbelt to better face him. “You’re not planning anything too crazy, are you? You’ll be here when I come out?” Luka stared straight ahead, his eyes following the line of cars driving by. “This…all of this bullshit with the

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Albanians… By the time you walk out of here”—he pointed at the building to their right—“it’ll be done. You’ll be safe. That I can promise you.” “Luka—” He cut her off with a kiss, one that might have made her toes curl if not for their conversation…or lack thereof. “Go be great.” She wanted to stay with him, but he was already turning away from her. Sighing, Alex climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. She turned to look back at him before he could pull off. “Be careful, Luka.” She waited on that curbside until he pulled off and his Jeep disappeared in the sea of other cars. ____ Luka parked outside the old brownstone, reclining back against the seat and

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ignoring his cell phone buzzing beside him in the empty passenger seat. His time was up and he’d accepted that, but he wasn’t going down alone. Reaching around his seat, he pulled out another Glock, clicking off the safety. He didn’t have enough ammunition to take out everybody—he didn’t know how many were actually in the house—but he had enough for what he needed. Before he got out, he thought of Alex—her smile, her laugh—and let the image of him calm him. If he could help it, then that would be the last image he thought of before he died. Climbing out, Luka took a calming breath, letting the echo of heartbeat in his ears guide him as he headed for the door. Ringing the bell, he waited a second, another, then reared back and kicked it open, surprising the man who had been coming down the hall. Two shots to the chest dropped him,

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making the remainder of the men cry out in surprise, the sound of running feet carrying out. He shot two more before they returned fire. Ducking behind a corner, he counted each shot, waiting for a break in shot before he leaned out, firing off more rounds. Back and forth it went until Luka had to toss his gun, pulling the other free from the holster at his back. This time, he didn’t stay hidden, but boldly moved toward the others, shooting as many as he could until that gun was empty, too. Then, he just relied on brute force. Punching one, he went down with one hit, his body crumpling to the floor, but more were on him, dragging him away and hitting him with the butt of a gun. His face exploded with pain, but that only made him laugh as

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he struck back, kicking out a foot to hit the man in the groin. “Just shoot him!” someone yelled. Finally, the one thing Luka had been hoping for. He couldn’t take them all, he knew that before coming here, but if he wanted those he loved safe, he had to give himself to the Albanians…and he wouldn’t go down without a fight. And fighting, usually, got one killed. If he were dead, there would be no reason for Fatos and the others to remain in New York. Someone brandished a gun, and Luka didn’t bother looking into the face of the man who was going to kill him. He didn’t matter. “Wait!” Luka tensed at the sound of Fatos’ voice, craning his head around to get a visual of him.

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As he stepped into the room, he moved leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. …Like he had known Luka was coming. “Is this any way to treat an old friend?” he asked as he shook his head, as though disappointed in Luka’s actions. He held up Luka’s phone for him to see, giving it a little shake. Almost, as though she could sense the trouble he was in, the phone started buzzing again with Alex’s name appearing. Shaking his head, Fatos silenced the call. “Tell me. Who is there to protect your little doll now that you’re here with me? There could be men waiting for her outside that studio even now…” When Luka jerked toward him, multiple pairs of hands grabbed him, forcing him to his knees.

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“What do you want, Fatos? Why won’t you just kill me and end this!” “I don’t want you to die. I want you to live. How many times have I offered you a place by my side? All will be forgiven…eventually.” “I don’t want it.” Fatos frowned. “You would rather give your life for these Russians? What have they given you that I didn’t? That I won’t?” “Everything.” “Fine.” He pulled out his own gun, leveling it at Luka’s forehead. “Then you can die as you wish, and after I’m done with you, I’ll have that little bitch of yours killed too, but not until after I fuck her bloody.” Luka didn’t lose his temper. There was no point. “What do you want, Fatos?” “If you don’t want to rule beside me, brother, then you can answer for what you’ve done against the Organization.” Luka scoffed. “Mishca won’t—”

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“Mishca? The Russian that you’re holding so much stake in sold you out. How do you think I knew you would choose today to strike against me? Even without your frivolous acts, I’m free to drag your ass back to Albania and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Words failed him as Fatos spoke. That couldn’t be true. Not after everything… “He wouldn’t.” “No?” Fatos looked all too happy as he produced another phone from his pocket, clicking a few buttons on it before the sound of Mishca’s voice filled the room. “He did all this?” Mishca asked. “Why would I lie?” Fatos asked in return. “If a part of you didn’t believe me, I doubt you would still be sitting here with me, no?” “And you want me to hand him over to you. Why wouldn’t I keep him? Have him answer for what he did to my brother?”

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“Because, Russian, only I know what will truly break him. You don’t understand. Valon can withstand the harshest of tortures and nothing that you can think of will hurt him the way I can…the way being home in Berat will. This, too, you know.” Mishca was quiet for some time, then came back and said, “He won’t go without a fight, and I doubt he will leave without first striking back against you for what you did to my sister.” “She was never harmed…not really. But you did strike out against a number of my men, you and your mercenary. I believe that all is forgiven on that front?” Mishca seemed to ignore this. “Two days from now, my sister will have an audition. I suspect that Luka will come for you then. That’s your only chance of taking him alive. But, before you leave with him, I need to hear the words from his mouth. Bring

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him to me. After he tells me what I want to hear, you can do whatever you want.” The recording ended, Fatos looking at Luka smugly. “Loyalty is hard to come by, no?” “Even if you did take me, there’s no guarantee that any of them are safe from you.” Fatos shrugged. “True. Seems your Russian failed to remember that.” Luka stared at him, making sure Fatos could see how serious he was. “This isn’t about him. This is about me. You want to take me? You, more than anyone, know what I’m capable of, and I promise you, I won’t make it easy.” Luka licked his lips. “But…you give me what I want, and I’ll go with you…willingly.” “What, exactly, do you want?” “First, no one affiliated with the Bratva will be hurt by you. Especially Alex.” “You can’t possibly—”

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“Agree or don’t.” “Fine, agreed.” “And I talk to Alex. Not Mishca.” “You want her to know how you tried to kill her brother? Sure, by all means.” No, he wanted her to know the truth. Even if he didn’t think she would be able to handle it.

42 ____ Full Circle Alex was panicking. Never mind that everyone seemed to be on edge, even Mishca who was rarely frazzled. Whatever it was, she doubted it just ended with what happened to her. She knew something serious was happening if only because of the fact that Mishca had called in Celt, a friend of Klaus’ who worked as a mercenary. He seemed nice enough, his Irish brogue a delight to hear, but Alex was more worried about Luka than what was happening here.

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He hadn’t answered his phone, and she’d been calling it dozens of times after her audition. She’d been so excited, especially when they’d asked her to come back for another performance. He’d told her earlier in the week that he would come by and pick her up afterwards and they’d go out to celebrate, no matter what answer she got. This morning, however, he hadn’t mentioned anything about it. She had noticed how he’d seemed drawn into himself, but she had ultimately accepted his word that he was fine. Now she wished she had pushed. The men were off to the side, far enough away in Mishca’s office where Lauren and she couldn’t hear them. The pair of them was sitting together, and Lauren was rubbing her very swollen belly. She looked worried, her gaze focused on her husband across the room. If he hadn’t told her, then there was no chance that she was going to get any information from him.

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And worse, in her gut, she felt like whatever was happening had something to do with Luka. Hunting through her contacts, she clicked Luka’s name, bringing the phone to her ear and listening to it ring. And ring. And ring. When he still didn’t answer, this time she left a voicemail. Maybe that would prompt him to call her back sooner. The sound of Mishca’s phone ringing cut through the silence in the room. From the second he connected the call, Alex was watching him, waiting for any sign of whom he was talking to. He always had a tell when something bothered him. That tick started in his jaw whenever he ground his teeth. Whatever the person on the other line was saying, Mishca didn’t like very much. For a beat, Mishca was quiet, and then his eyes cut to Alex and stayed there. “Bring him to me.”

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Her stomach dropped to the floor. “Was that about Luka?” she asked before he could even hang up the phone. He didn’t answer, pulling open one of the drawers and grabbing the nine-mil he kept inside, checking the clip. Now, it was Lauren that was struggling to her feet, looking at her husband in alarm. “Mish, what’s happening?” The man in question looked at Klaus. “Take her out of here.” Lauren, who had never done well with taking directions, glared over at Klaus. “Touch me and I’ll make you regret it.” But Alex was still focused on her brother, realizing exactly what he wasn’t telling her. “This is about Luka, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. “Alex—” “What are you going to do?” she demanded, becoming all too aware of the sheer

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firepower and the level of skill present in the room. “What did he do?” Mishca didn’t offer an explanation, but Klaus did…the last person she expected. “There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that Albanian.” “Like that his name is Valon? He told me. He told me everything.” Shock crossed his face for a second, his lips parting though no words came out. Strangely, he touched his chest, rubbing over his shoulder, but once he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. “Whatever he told you probably wasn’t the whole of it. If I have to drag you out of here—you, too,” he said with a jerk of his head in Lauren’s direction, “then so be it.” He made to grab her arm, his fingers barely brushing her skin before she slapped his hand away and took a step back. “What the fuck is going on!”

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But whatever she might have gotten was lost because there was a loud commotion out in the front room. Before anyone could stop her, Alex was out of the room first, ignoring Mishca as he yelled her name. Until she came up short, seeing the man who had happily stood above her as he buried her alive. There was a sliver of fear that raced through her at the sight of him, but she knew Mishca and Klaus, and even Celt, wouldn’t let him do anything more to her. No, it was the sight of Luka next to him that knocked the air from her lungs. Something about Luka’s expression worried her—never mind the guns trained on him, most of them assault rifles. It was both reassuring and worrisome that they feared him so much they needed to make sure he couldn’t blink without someone’s finger twitching on the trigger.

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His face was bruised in some places, across his cheek and the underside of his jaw, but that was nothing compared to some of the others that were behind him. Somehow, they had bested him, but it was obvious he didn’t make it easy on them. At Alex’s sudden appearance, one of the men turned their gun on her, yelling something at her that she didn’t understand. Before she could register the threat however, Luka threw his elbow back, knocking the man in the eye, disarming him easily, as if it was second nature. Now in control of the weapon, he aimed it down at the man’s forehead. “Not her.” His display didn’t confuse her. It was the fact that everyone else just watched it happen. Why didn’t they try to stop it? If he was their captive, why did he move about freely? Everything about this was wrong…

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There was something happening, a bigger picture that she wasn’t getting. “Now, now Valon. No one is going to touch your pet. We know how you like the blondes.” “Fatos,” Mishca said stepping forward, Klaus at his side. “You came here for a reason.” From the way Klaus was eyeing the man, it was clear that he knew him, but from where, Alex didn’t know. It seemed that the only person who was lost as to who this man really was, was her. Alex was struck by a memory, one of her and Luka back at his place during one of their late-night conversations when he’d revealed pieces of his past to her. Fatos was my best friend, he’d said, but he wasn’t who I thought he was. No… It couldn’t be…

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But as she looked to Luka, his gaze now on her, she knew that he knew what she was thinking, and the answer to her question was yes. His best friend had buried her alive. And when he saw it, that realization clouding her eyes, he’d looked remorseful, an emotion she didn’t think she had ever seen on him, not even when he’d come to her covered in someone else’s blood. “Luka, what’s happening?” Fatos, who was looking back and forth between the pair of them, his frown growing ever more present, spoke up before Luka could. “As agreed, you can question him, Volkov, before we take him off your hands.” So Mishca had known about this? Had actively helped them? “Tell me,” Mishca said, this aimed at Luka. Except, it wasn’t to him, or really anyone else that Luka directed his answer. No,

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he explained himself to the one person in the room who he wanted to know the truth. “Six years ago, I was offered a job. Come to New York, kidnap the son of Mikhail Volkov, torture, and then kill him if he didn’t give me the information I wanted.” He said this all without blinking, without hesitation, as if he was merely reciting a list he’d memorized. “Problem was, we didn’t get the right Volkov. Klaus and a girl, Sarah, came to New York. Wrong place. Wrong time.” Alex was aware that she was shaking, but she didn’t feel connected to herself. This was happening, actually happening, and no one seemed surprised by what he was saying. Maybe Lauren, but Alex wasn’t about to turn around to see. Until the second he finished speaking, she would give Luka her undivided attention. “I spent three days torturing the hell out of him. I did everything I knew how to

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make him talk, but he didn’t. Refused, actually, said that he wasn’t who we thought he was. Turns out he was right, but I didn’t bother to check that until after Jetmir Besnik lit his girlfriend on fire.” Even Alex flinched at that, becoming aware of how tense Klaus had gotten. “His stars were missing. It was the easiest thing to check for, but I didn’t look until after, and by then, the damage was done. He was barely alive, but in the end, he was innocent. So, I made a call to one of Mishca’s people.” Now, to that, Mishca and Klaus both looked at Luka wearing matching expressions of surprise. This, apparently, was something neither of them knew. “He lived. I killed a few people—” “You murdered nineteen of our men,” Fatos interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

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“—And I left everything behind. Anyone who knew of me died that day with the exception of Jetmir and Fatos.” “Six years ago,” Alex said, finally finding her voice. “I met you six years ago. You were…so after everything that you’d done, you came…I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. Why would he willingly come to them, of all people, accept a job, work his way into their folds if he knew that if any of them had learned the truth, he would have been killed? “At first, no one was looking for me. They would have left it buried, but I killed Bastian last year.” She remembered that name, remembered what he had told her of his former…well, she didn’t really know what to call him. It had been the night before she’d went to Anya, when they’d been outside smoking a cigarette, and blood had covered his hands.

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Protecting her had cost him… “Once was forgiven, twice cost me a blood debt.” His mouth was still open, as if he was trying to find the words, some kind of explanation to give her, but in the end, he just said, “I’m sorry.” Those two words, more than anything else that he’d just revealed to her, broke her heart. “Now you have what you wanted, Volkov,” Fatos spoke up. “He’s ours.” Alex tried to go to Luka, needing to touch him, make sure this was actually happening, but Celt grabbed the back of her shirt before she could. “Let her go,” Mishca and Luka both said simultaneously, but there was only one person Celt actually listened to. “Yes,” Fatos said as though this was all one big entertaining event to him. “Let them have their moment.”

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She paid none of them any mind as she crossed the floor, her hands balling into the front of Luka’s bloodied shirt as she held onto him, afraid to let go. She saw everything he couldn’t say bare for anyone to see, and she didn’t care about anything around them. Because Mishca would fix this. If he knew how she felt about him, what he meant to her, then he wouldn’t let this happen to Luka. She hadn’t realized she was crying until he pressed a hard kiss to her lips, and he pulled away just far enough that she could hear him say, “Don’t cry for me. Don’t ever cry for me.” “Please don’t—” But he silenced her with another kiss, and this one told her what the other one hadn’t. He knew this was goodbye and he wasn’t fighting it. “All right, that’s enough.”

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Fatos gestured for one of his men to grab Luka, forcing him backward. She knew as soon as his eyes went to Fatos then back to her what he was going to say and she couldn’t handle it. “Don’t say goodbye.” Luka shook his head, even as Fatos laughed. “Don’t say it!” “Au revoir, Alex.” “It’s time to go. Pleasure doing business with you, Volkov. I hope to never see you again.” When two of the men grabbed Luka, one on each side, both Lauren and Alex made a sound of protest, but Alex was already trying to go after them, an arm binding around her waist preventing it. She screamed with everything that was inside of her, fought as hard as she could, but she couldn’t prevent them from taking him from that place. Not even after

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they’d cleared the door did the person restraining her let her go. No, they waited for at least a minute before releasing her, and the moment she was free, she swung around, her fist already flying before she’d completed that turn. The force behind her punch forced Klaus back a step, but he recovered quick enough and didn’t look angry in the slightest that she’d hit him. Before he could grab her again, she was racing through the doors, out onto the street, looking in both directions for any sign of Luka, but even in that short amount of time, he had vanished, and she had no idea what kind of cars they’d left in. Desperation squeezed her chest as she went back in, could hardly see with tears blurring her vision. Mishca remained in the same place, but Lauren was out of her chair, her face wet from crying, trying to talk sense into her husband.

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“What are you doing? They’ll kill him! You know that!” Mishca had never been cruel, not to Lauren, but the look he gave her was colder than anything she had ever seen. “Leave it.” But Lauren was undeterred. “It’s Luka, have you—” “His name is Valon Ahmeti. A former enforcer for the Albanian Syndicate. One that plotted to kill me. That offense alone would have gotten him killed here.” Lauren looked taken aback. “I don’t give a shit what his name was! He is my friend—” “Zatknis’—Shut up! You don’t question me or what I do. Take her home, and if she fucking protests, drag her there.” Lauren reared back as though she had been slapped, her face flushing with the heat of her answering rage, but before she could utter a word, Mishca turned his back on her and entered the office they’d all been in.

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Klaus whispered something to Lauren, his hand at the small of her back as he led her away, Celt in tow. Alex remained where she was, not knowing what to do, but she would try. For Luka. She would try for Luka. Alex stood at the mouth of the office, watching her brother dig out a bottle of vodka, drinking straight from the bottle for several long seconds before he threw it, shattering it, raining glass and alcohol onto the carpet on the other side of the room. She didn’t know how long she had. For all she knew, they could be across the city, driving onto a private airfield. She knew that she couldn’t go up against them alone. She needed Mishca. He was the only way she could get Luka back. “Mish—” He raised his hand, not looking at her. “Don’t.”

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“But you don’t understand,” Alex said, forcing the words out as they seemed to get caught in her throat. “I love him, more than I’ve ever loved anybody. And…and you can’t let them take him. I know what he did was…you don’t know him the way I do. He’s been there for me. He’s helped me more than you even realize. I’m begging you—” “Go home, Alex.” “Even if you’re mad, then you take it out on him here. Whatever. I don’t care, but do this for me. Do it because you love me.” He finally faced her, eyes unblinking and angry. More angry than she had ever seen him. “I won’t tell you again.” “I had a drug problem. I was getting high on anything that I could get my hands. Whatever Snow gave me—” There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but Alex was too focused on what she had to say to question that. “—I didn’t care what I had to give him in return. If he wanted my body, he

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could have it. I didn’t care. Luka helped me. Don’t you understand? He stayed with me for three days as I suffered through withdrawals. He practically brought me back to life. When no one else was there for me, he was!” Mishca flinched. He actually looked hurt by her admission. She hadn’t meant to hurt him in her confession, but it was too late to take it back now. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, she thought he was apologizing for not being there—not that he could have known much since she’d avoided him at that time. “I’m sorry you fell in love with him. But we all answer for the lives we’ve led and those we’ve taken. Maybe one day you’ll forgive me for this.” The pain in her chest was expanding, nearly consuming her as she choked on more tears. “If you let them have him. If you don’t

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bring him back, I’ll never forgive you, Mishca. Do you hear me? I will never forgive you.” He didn’t shy away from her pain, her tears. He faced them with the same look of indifference that Mikhail had shown her so long ago. “It’s already done.”

PART FOUR Love in my heart is a cry forever Lost as the swallow’s flight, Seeking for you and never, never Stilled by the stars at night. -Sara Teasdale

43 ____ Off and Back Again “Oh, you’re just the cutest thing,” Alex cooed at the squirming baby, smiling when he gave her a toothless grin as he reached for the hair that had fallen over her shoulder. He was a grabby little thing, loving to tug on anything he got his hands on And while the pain hurt more than it didn’t, she let him do it all the same. Sadly, she didn’t get to see him as often as she wanted, not since she had moved to Paris seven months ago, but that was just one sacrifice she had to make.

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“Thanks again for babysitting, Alex,” Lauren said as she rushed around the room, packing her bookbag while simultaneously packing a diaper bag. “I know you’re not back for long and—” When she made a move to put a bottle in with her textbooks, Alex gently took it from her. “Don’t worry about it. Me and this little booger are going to have loads of fun, aren’t we?” Making a funny face, she laughed in turn when he giggled, his little belly moving with the effort, but she lost that smile when he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. “I won’t get out of class until six, but if you have plans, I can have Mish—” “No,” Alex said, extracting her hair from his vice-like grip. “Totally fine. Just call me whenever you’re home and I’ll bring him by.”

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Sighing, Lauren crossed the room, reaching into the crib to pick up Sacha as she cradled him to her chest. Though she was smiling, she did look tired, making Alex wonder how everything was back here. While she might have spoken to Lauren once every two weeks since she’d left, she hadn’t talked to Mishca once. At first, he seemed perfectly accepting of that, but after the first month, he made it a point to call her and leave voicemails—ones she promptly deleted without listening to them—probably at his wife’s urging. “I know I promised not to get in the middle of this, but don’t you think you’ve punished him enough?” Not even close. “Luka spent years suffering in the very place that Mishca sent him back to and for what? What could his reason have possibly been to do that to someone who cared more about all of us than he did himself?”

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Alex wouldn’t lie. She did miss her brother, more than anything, but her resentment was far stronger. She could still remember begging him to do anything to bring Luka back, how she had even gone to Klaus, then Celt, only to be shut down because they were ordered by Mishca not to help her in any way. How could she ever forgive him? One week later, she’d emptied the last of her savings and fled with the clothes on her back…and Loki. She could never have left him behind. Her pain had only been made worse because of Loki’s reaction to Luka being gone. At night, he whined, sometimes pawing at the door to be let out, but after a while, he would give up, jumping up on the bed beside her and resting his head on her leg. Those nights were the hardest. “I know, and I understand your anger with him, but—”

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Alex knew she meant well, but she just wasn’t ready to have this conversation. “Lauren, please. I love you, you know that, but…I can’t. Not right now. One day, I might be able to speak to him, but it’s too soon for me.” Sighing in defeat, Lauren shook her head. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” “Thanks.” With several kisses to Sacha’s cheeks, she handed him over, smoothing down his hair. Alex had no doubt that Lauren was a great mother. She could not remember a time when Anya had ever looked at her so fondly, and with her compassion, Alex doubted that she would expose Sacha to the life that had caused so much pain in their family. “Go on, I have him.”

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Laughing, she shook her head. “Everything you need is in the bag. You have my cell, obviously, and I wrote—” “I’ve got it. We do this every time.” “Right, right. Sorry. I know you said you don’t want Klaus riding with you, but I would still appreciate it if you let him tail you to your hotel.” “Of course.” She pulled Alex into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Alex.” They went down together, but in the lobby, Lauren headed for the parking deck and Alex went out the front, careful to keep Sacha’s blanket covering his carseat. Outside, she didn’t have to look for Klaus. He was leaning against the side of her rental, arms folded across his chest, feet crossed at the ankles. He’d let his hair grow out some since the last time she had seen him, the dark strands now pulled back into a small bun at the back of his head. Still

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dressed in his customary black, there wasn’t much change to him. Ignoring him for the time being, she pressed the unlock key on the remote, pulling open the rear door to get Sacha situated in the back. “Bit rude not to speak, you know.” Still ignoring him, she hunted through the diaper bag for the small blue pacifier that was Sacha’s favorite, then a toy before she closed the door again. Smiling tightly, she said, “Hi.” “Is that anyway to treat your long-lost brother?” he asked, trailing behind her as she went around to the driver’s side. He opened the door for her before she had the chance to reach for it. Alex spun around so fast that her hair slapped him in the chest. “You’re not my brother, Klaus. Mishca is not my brother. Think of me as more like a distant cousin—the one that only comes around for

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holidays, and even then, it’s only for about an hour.” “Time of the month?” he asked as she climbed in, pulling her seatbelt on. “Fuck you. Go get your ass in your monstrosity of a car and follow me over. The sooner we get to my place, the sooner this meeting is over.” She waited for him to step back to close the door, jamming the key into the ignition as he jogged back to his own car. When the roar of his engine sounded, Alex pulled out, only checking in her rearview mirror once on the way to her hotel. The ride itself was short, and by the time she parked and grabbed Sacha from the backseat, Klaus was walking up. “As you can see, we made it here just fine. And look,” she said pointing toward the entrance, “there’s even a doorman.” “Are you gonna act bitchy all the way up to your room?” he asked candidly as he

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shut the door behind her. “Because bottom line, we need to have a talk.” Gritting her teeth, she glared at him. “I don’t have to let you in.” “Voluntary or involuntary. Either way, I’m coming in. Your choice, sweetheart.” There was no point in arguing it further. He was going to do what he wanted anyway. Hoisting the bag further up her shoulder, she headed inside. Once they were in her room, she set up Sacha’s bouncing chair, carefully laying him on it, making sure the overhanging toys were in reach. It was easy enough keeping him entertained. Going over to the sitting area in the room, Alex sat, folding her legs beneath her as she watched Klaus walk over. She tried not to look at him, focusing on her lap because no matter how different their personalities were, he still looked just like Mishca. “What do you want, Klaus?”

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He got comfortable first, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the chair. “How’s Paris?” “Fine.” “Ballet?” He tried again. “Fine.” “And how are you doing?” “Fine.” Klaus sighed, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. “Not good enough.” “Why do you even care? The last time I checked, the only person you really cared about in this fucked up family of ours is Lauren. Tell me, Klaus, do you get those twin urges? Can you feel them when they’re fucking?” While he didn’t lose the smile, Klaus’ eyes grew hard. “I’ve heard that before. Guess the Albanian rubbed off on you.” Anger flushed through her. “You don’t get to talk about him. Ever.”

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“No? Seems fair since he went to work on me, and though the only thing I wanted to do was make him pay for this, I kept this secret from the Russian. You should be thanking me.” Alex scoffed. “Let me make sure I have this right. You show up out of nowhere threatening everybody, acting like a complete dick, at least until your brother’s wife bats her eyes at you, and then you have a change of heart? Oh, but wait, you lure that fucking Albanian here and what does he do? He buries me alive, and the only reason I’m here is because of Luka. So fuck whatever you’re—” “Listen.” He’d never been anything but polite to her, so the sharpness of his voice caught her off guard. “The Albanian you know, he wasn’t that guy years ago.” He visibly tried to rein in his anger, though whether it was aimed at

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her, she wasn’t sure. “I understand your loyalty. Believe me. I did what I could, but there are—” “Is this the part where I thank you?” Alex asked, and then thought better of it. “Thank you, Klaus. For everything that you’ve done. But that doesn’t change anything because Luka isn’t here.” Alex dropped her feet to the ground. “I watched all of you do everything in your power to make Lauren safe. No one was safe. I never doubted for a second that when I needed you, you would be there. Not a single one of you lifted a finger to do anything to help Luka. So, honestly? Save your lecture or whatever you’re here to give. I don’t want to hear it.” “Do you honestly think I wanted you to get hurt, Alex?” he asked, rising to his feet. “I don’t think any of you cared what happened to me, as long as Luka suffered for who he was before.” She gestured to the

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door. “Please. Just save your hypocrisy and just get out.”

44 ____ Home Away from Home As soon as she touched down in Paris, the plane rolling to a stop on the runway, it felt like a weight lifted off Alex’s shoulders. She hailed a cab back to her place, happy to see her building coming into view. Paying, she stepped out, typing in the code to get in the gate, heading toward the back of the courtyard where the elevator was located. She made a stop at one of the ground floor apartments first, knocking gently, smiling when she heard the whines coming from the other side. It took about a minute, but once the door opened, Loki came flying out,

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his big body barreling into hers as he licked at her face, his tail wagging. She laughed, pushing him away as she rubbed his head, smiling up at Cadessa who was leaning in the door with an apron around her waist, a kitchen towel in her hand. “He’s missed you.” “Only because I take him to the dog park every other day.” “You should come over for dinner tonight, Aleksandria. We would love to have you.” Cadessa and her husband, Gabriel, were the only couple in the entire building near Alex’s age, though still a number of years older. When she’d moved in, Cadessa had instantly welcomed her in, introducing her to Gabriel a few days later. Alex couldn’t count the number of times she had been over to their place for dinner, at least twice a week.

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They knew about Loki since Alex needed them to watch him, they knew she traveled back to New York when she could—even showed them the picture she carried of Sacha—and that she was dancing with the Francis Ballet Company. For once, since she was younger, she had friends, and though they knew nothing about the family she came from—she went out of her way to avoid talking about them—she was glad for it. “Sure. Need me to pick up anything from the market? I was going anyway.” “No, no. We have everything.” Smiling, Alex waved goodbye, Loki at her heels as they made the short journey up to her apartment. Shifting her luggage to her other shoulder, she unlocked the door, pushing it open, letting Loki trot in first before she followed behind, closing it back and sliding the lock into place. Turning back around,

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she dropped her keys in the bowl on her way in, dropping her bags along the way. She went through the place, opening curtains, letting in the sunlight to bathe the rooms in a warm glow. The floors were made of blonde timber, finished in a light gray that complemented the white walls. She spent a small fortune buying furniture and decorating the eighteen-hundred square feet apartment, but it was well worth the investment, especially when she wasn’t planning to go back to New York anytime soon. Her bedroom was on the east side of the apartment with a connected balcony that overlooked the Seine River. It was for that view alone that this place was so expensive. It followed the same color scheme as the apartment, but with shades of sky blue throughout. She threw her hair up, changing out of her clothes into shorts and a tank top. Heading to the kitchen, Loki following closely

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behind, she reached for his bag of treats, laughing when he immediately sat at attention. Tossing him one, she went looking through the refrigerator for something for herself. There was nothing much left, and since she wouldn’t be eating at home tonight anyway, she figured heading to the market to pick up other supplies—along with grabbing something small to eat—would bring her out of the funk she’d been under. A part of her knew that it was unlikely, but she liked to hope all the same. Shopping in Paris, for Alex at least, was always a leisurely affair as she made her way around the smaller shops, picking up little things that she needed. She’d already gone by the market, picking up fresh bread and a bottle of wine to take over to dinner later—even if Cadessa had said they had everything, she wanted to be polite—but as she was heading back home, she stopped at a stationary store. She slipped through the

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aisles as she looked through the stands, waiting until she found the perfect postcard, one she hadn’t already picked up prior. Right at the end, there was one with a sunset across the front, reminding her of waking up at a house in the middle of nowhere back in New York. She ran her finger along the front, smiling wistfully before going to the register and purchasing it. She headed home after. Back there, she left her bags in the kitchen to put away later, heading back to her bedroom as she rooted through a drawer next to it for a pen. Normally, she waited until there was something substantial to write on these, making sure the notes were all good. Even now, as she lay on her stomach and wrote out the short message in careful strokes, she savored this moment, wanting to put every bit of her emotions into it as she could.

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It began, as it always did, Dear Luka, and as she finished, having run out of room toward the end, she ended it with, Love always, Alex. She kissed the front of it, her lipstick leaving an imprint on the front, but unlike most people who bought these, she didn’t add any postage to it, instead placing it in a decorative box she kept under her bed, already filled with at least a dozen more messages she had transcribed over the last six months. He would never see them, would never read them, but they gave her hope, and at the very least, it kept his memory alive. ____ Dinner with Cadessa and her husband was as good as she’d expected, the food divine, and the conversation was good as well. She’d learned to enjoy the calmness of her everyday life now that she was far away from the Bratva.

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After another long day of practice, Alex went over to a corner of the studio, gingerly removing her pointe shoes. She pulled on a pair of loose boots, wincing when the fabric rubbed against sensitive skin. Packing everything else away in her duffel, she headed for the door, but not before she was intercepted by the few friends she had in the company. With so many different dancers, there were dozens of different personalities. When it came time for auditions for a lead spot, it brought the worst out in some. But there were at least a few who Alex had become close with. “Are you up for company?” Robbie asked with a sweet smile, his ruddy cheeks more flushed after their practice. He was nice, and if not for his consistent need to hit on any new girl who joined the company, he would have definitely been

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the guy you brought home to meet your parents. Except Alex wasn’t interested and doubted she ever would. Forcing a smile though, she nodded. “Sure. I think Jordan, Raj, and Amerie are coming, too.” It was clear that he thought it would just be the pair of them alone, but she wanted to put an end to that early. Catching sight of Amerie across the room, she said a quick goodbye to Robbie, linking her arm with her friend. “I hope you’re not too busy tonight to hang out for a couple of hours,” she whispered as they left the studio. “I might have mentioned to Robbie that you, Raj, and Jordan were coming over.” “Are you still avoiding telling him that you’re not interested?” “No, I did tell him I wasn’t interested. He just thinks I’m playing hard to get.”

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____ While her friends enjoyed their impromptu get-together, Alex sat right in the middle of it but could not have felt more detached. A new bottle of vintage wine had been opened and glasses poured, but Alex had quietly refused, drinking sparkling grape juice instead. As everyone became more inebriated, it felt different being the only sober one for a change. Quietly excusing herself, Alex went to the kitchen and poured another glass, happily chugging it down like it was the real thing. No one else had to know that she wasn’t much of a drinker. Despite the melancholy she’d been living under for the last six months, she wasn’t even tempted to take a drink. Even though it currently surrounded her. The urge to drink was always at the back of her mind because it would be so easy

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just to let it take the pain away…but instead, she fell into something more productive, something that she could be proud of rather than feel guilty about. “Who was he?” Glancing over her shoulder at Amerie, there was no point in her trying to act like nothing was wrong. “His name was Luka.” Resting her glass on the counter beside her, she regarded Alex quizzically. “Did the two of you break up…or was it because of your family?” “You know about my family?” “I don’t think there’s anybody who doesn’t know about your family.” Laughing, Alex shook her head. “It was a little bit of everything, to be honest.” “I’m sure you can’t really tell me anything, but here’s my advice. If it was meant to be, it can still happen…no matter the odds.”

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She knew her friend meant well, but no matter how desperately she wanted to believe those words, she wouldn’t give herself false hope. “Thanks.” “Well, it’s getting late. I should probably get going. All of us really.” When they returned to the living room, though, Robbie was already passed out on the floor. When he had gotten down there, Alex didn’t know. Raj offered to grab him, but Alex waved her hand. “Let him sleep it off here.” “You sure?” Amerie asked. “Yeah, no worries. My guard dog will protect me if anything happens.” They might have laughed at that remark because Loki was mostly docile, but they didn’t know what Loki was capable of. Seeing them out, Alex straightened up, pouring out the remaining wine in the bottle before tossing it. Grabbing a spare

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blanket from the closet, she covered up Robbie, and then let Loki out of the bedroom. The moment he spotted Robbie on the couch, his ears perked up, his lips pulling back from his teeth. “Easy there, killer. We need him for the show tomorrow night. You can’t make him into your chew toy.” She stepped out on the balcony, her glass in hand, taking a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs, curling her legs up beneath her. It was a particularly starry night out, no clouds obscuring the sky. Loki had padded out after her, resting at her feet, but he perked up suddenly, his head canting to the side, pained whines making her frown down at him. “What’s wrong?” Alex reached to pet him, wanting to soothe whatever bothered him, but his attention focused solely on the street below. She tried to peer down and see what was

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upsetting him, but the street was mostly deserted besides the occasional person walking by. She had almost dismissed it, thinking it might have just been a bird he saw. Then, just out of sight, she saw someone standing below, smoke wafting out into the air around him. Alex stood, walking over to the edge, trying to get a closer look, but in those few seconds, the person had gone. …only the dwindling smoke an indication that someone had been standing there at all.

45 ____ Slave Seven months ago… Handcuffed to the wall of the van, and his legs restrained with cuffs bolted into the floor, Luka leaned his head back against the thin metal paneling, keeping perfectly still despite the jostling on the uneven road. Two men sat on either side of him, guns in hands and fingers just against the triggers. Sitting alone across from them was Fatos, who whistled a haunting melody beneath his breath, but he too had his gun in his lap.

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He might have been unable to move, and they quite clearly outnumbered and outgunned him, but they were still afraid of what he was capable of doing. Maybe not Fatos, though. Despite everything, he knew that because Alex was still in harm’s way unless he conceded to what Fatos wanted, Luka wasn’t going anywhere. Unlike the van they had used to grab Klaus off the street, this one had windows, a luxury for which Luka was actually happy. He didn’t know if there would be a time when he saw the sky again, so he wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible. Gazing out, he noticed that despite the years, so much had changed since the last time he was in Berat, even more than he had expected. The home he had once shared with his mother, that old crumbling apartment building, was no more. Burned from

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the inside out, just a hulking mess of soldered brick and mortar. It was strange…He had seen things burned before—sometimes up close and personal—but they had never filled him with such peace before. It might have once held special memories, but it also reminded him of a time that he would much rather forget. A time when his life had changed in ways that had shaped the very path he was on. Now, at least, there was one less thing to haunt him. They rode on further, children skirting out of the way as the van sped past, looking after them for several seconds before losing interest. Soon, they were passing Bastian’s house of horrors, and unlike his apartment, the house was still standing, and just behind it, the barn stood tall. But this place that he often looked back on with such disdain…it

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was not nearly as foreboding as he remembered. God, he could still remember the day when he’d first arrive, how haunting the place had seemed from a distance…even if it had looked normal by anyone else’s standards. But maybe even in his youth, he knew the horrors that awaited him. To Luka’s surprise, they rode on past, at least another hour down the road before they reached another place that looked like it could stand the test of time. There was a gate, even dogs that walked the perimeter, and enough security cameras that let Luka know that this was where they conducted at least some of the business. When they rolled to a stop, Fatos barked orders and the exterior doors opened, sunlight spilling in, temporarily blinding Luka in its brightness. He didn’t resist as two men grabbed hold of him, dragging him out and onto the dirt.

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He could feel the eyes on him as he was led from one prison to another, the conditions worsening. While the front property looked to be in pristine condition, the building behind it was older and didn’t look to be maintained. If Luka were in a better mood, he might have laughed at the absurdity of being led back to another shitty building, just as he had when he’d first come to Bastian. On that cold dirt floor of Bastian’s old barn, Luka had hoped many a night that he would become more. How far he had fallen… There was a chair waiting for him, a coil of rope resting beside it. Only Fatos would enjoy the indignity Luka would feel at being strapped to a chair. It was starting to seem as though his entire goal was to make Luka relive those years leading up to the moment that he had chosen to join the Bratva.

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But there was also the reminder of what Luka was capable of. It might have been a while since he’d stepped foot in the Pit, but he was still capable of doing damage with his fists…and that was nothing compared to when he was inspired. They had to keep him as restrained as possible. Shoved into the chair, Luka refused to give them the reaction they sought, staying silent as they began tying him down. But before they did, they removed his shirt. Fatos eventually came into view, his gaze sweeping around the room before landing on Luka once more. He thought again of why he hadn’t pulled the trigger when he had the opportunity…why he had hesitated. He should have. He should have ended it before Fatos had managed to rip his world apart. Again.

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His ink was appraised with a critical eye and whatever he saw made Fatos frown, circling the chair until he was behind Luka. Fatos reached out with a gentle hand, sweeping his fingers over the length of Luka’s back, effortlessly finding the scarred lines that were buried beneath different hues of ink. Unlike Alex, he didn’t mistakenly fall upon them, but actively sought them out with a reverence that made Luka’s skin crawl. He was quiet for some time, and then tapped Luka on the shoulder before stepping into view, shaking his head as though disappointed. “I’m hurt that you covered these. I thought you more than anyone else would wear them like a badge of honor.” Luka thought about remaining silent, focusing on one of the multitude of water stains that complemented the wall, wanting to distance himself from the inevitable pain that this night would bring. Even with the

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time that had passed, as Fatos’ hand drifted over the marks that he had left there, Luka could vividly remember the pain of the heated blade gliding along his flesh, how his skin felt once it was sliced open. He might have learned to channel his pain in a different manner, but that didn’t mean he wanted it. Just imagining what Fatos would do to him later made his fingers clench. His distaste for being helpless was nothing compared to how he felt as he watched one of Fatos’ men approach him with a pair of cutting shears. More than anybody, Fatos knew how much Luka hated having a shaved head. He didn’t keep his hair long as a fashion statement, but as another way to rid himself of the life he had before this place took him away and destroyed what little humanity he had clung onto. Not only that, but there was something hidden beneath the coiling

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strands of blond hair, a gift Bastian had called it, so Luka would never forget his place. Like many things, it was one of his greatest shames. Along the back of his head, as more and more hair fell to the ground, the beginning of a word appeared, and not until nearly every strand was gone could it be read clearly. From the way Fatos grinned, as if he had known it would still be there, he was enjoying the shame that was probably clear on Luka’s face. After Luka had helped Elena get free, Bastian had wanted to remind Luka of his place…remind him that no matter how he pleased him with the sheer amount of money he brought in, he would never be more than he was then… In thick, black letters, inked when Luka fought with every fiber of his being to get free, was a single word, written in English for anyone to read.

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Slave.

46 ____ Wake Up Venturing out onto the balcony the next morning, her gaze sweeping over the street below, Alex wondered if she’d just been imagining things last night, and maybe there hadn’t been a person staring up at her. It was surely possible. With the hours she worked and the sheer amount of time she put into practice, most days she was exhausted, and last night had been no different. And yet…just because she was thousands of miles away from the Bratva, that didn’t mean she was very far from danger.

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Their family had enough enemies stateside that she had never given much thought to how many there were abroad. For all she knew, that could have been a tracker sent by someone who was trying to get to her brother. It wasn’t like she was under constant guard, and now that L…well, now that she didn’t have anyone around who was formidable in his own right, they could think she was the weak link. For a second, she could remember the smell of the earth, pungent and rich, and Fatos’ smile when he saw her fear. Even if she were still angry, she would rather be safe and angry than buried alive again. Grabbing her cup of tea, she walked back inside, grabbing her phone from where it was charging next to the bed and punching in the number she knew from memory. There was no guarantee he would answer, or even be of any help with the way she had

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treated him when she had seen him last, but at least she could try. Klaus was already finicky by nature. There was no telling how he would react. The line rang for so long that she feared he wouldn’t answer, but as she was about to hang up, he finally picked up. “Speak.” Alex rolled her eyes as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear as she packed her bag for rehearsals. “You should really learn proper phone etiquette.” Klaus was silent for a beat, the smile clear in his voice as he said, “Didn’t think I’d be getting a call from you.” “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting to make this call, but I think I’m being followed.” “You call the Russian?” She sighed, long and hard. That had been her first instinct because that was what she would have done, but she was stubborn and refused to bend. Mishca would be the

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last person she would call if there was a need. “No, I called you.” “I feel honored, really.” “Don’t you want to do something about it, or do I need to handle it on my own?” she asked, nearly ripping the zipper as she closed the bag. “Oh, calm your shit. Tell me what you know.” “I don’t know. Some guy was outside my place last night. I didn’t really see him, but it was kind of obvious he was there. Then, I got flowers after my performance the other night.” “That’s nice. I wish I got flowers after I did my job. Only thing I ever get is more death threats,” Klaus said, sounding like he was talking to himself. What the hell? “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

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“Trust me. If I thought you were in danger, I would. To me, this just sounds like you have a stalker. I could take care of that too, you know, for a price.” Frustrated, Alex thought about hanging up on him. “I can’t believe there was a time when I actually thought you were a decent person.” “If you didn’t still think that, you wouldn’t have called me.” She hung up on him and once again found herself staring down at the screen, her finger hovering over the ‘contacts’ icon. Once, she had contemplated deleting Mishca’s numbers from her phone but realized that was pointless considering she had committed all of them to memory. But…she still wasn’t ready to call him. Pocketing her phone, she walked back into the living room, closing and locking the balcony doors behind her. Robbie was finally awake, groaning as he nearly rolled off the

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sofa as he turned over. He might have drunken himself into a stupor last night, but he was still up early. He looked around wide-eyed, trying to get his bearings, only relaxing when he caught sight of Alex as she walked by him. “Did I sleep here?” “Yeah.” She smiled. “I don’t think it would have been good for anybody to carry you home in your condition. Do you want some coffee?” He mumbled an affirmative, carefully rising to his feet as though he thought he would tip over at any moment. “Where’s your bathroom again?” “Down the hall to your left.” Alex was busy pulling down two mugs from the cabinets, grabbing creamer and sugar, when she heard Robbie’s exclamation and the sound of Loki’s low growling. Hurrying after him, she did her best to hold in her laughter when she caught sight of him.

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Robbie had his hands up, his arms shaking, but that did nothing to appease Loki as he remained alert and in place, just a second from springing forward and latching onto Robbie’s neck. “Loki, behave.” Alex stepped around Robbie, patting Loki on the head. “You know better. Don’t worry about him, Robbie. He’s just not used to new people.” Or he just didn’t like Robbie, but she didn’t want to tell him that. As he went on, she led Loki back into her bedroom, giving him a treat before closing the door after she left. Back in the kitchen, she waited for Robbie to rejoin her before she poured them both a cup, fixing hers the way she liked before passing him the creamer and sugar. He looked less dead now, but she didn’t doubt that by tonight’s show, he would look relatively normal.

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“I think your dog hates me,” Robbie said as he took a sip of his coffee. “Every time I come over here, he’s always waiting to take a bite out of me.” Alex shrugged, not bothering to make any excuses. “What time is it anyway?” he asked looking around them for a clock. “Not too early. We still have a few hours before rehearsal.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile, but it didn’t do anything for her. She almost wished it would… “Want to go out to the market with me?” Before she could answer, he amended that. “We’ll have to stop by my flat first…if that’s okay.” Alex wasn’t really in the mood to spend the next four hours alone in her apartment before she was meant to go to the studio, so even if it wasn’t with Robbie that she

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wanted to spend time with, she found herself agreeing anyway.

47 ____ The End is Nigh Drip. Drip. Drip. The constant plop of water on his head had once been a nuisance, then a slow agony, and finally, it had to be the only thing keeping him sane—if that was what he wanted to call it. Luka didn’t know how long he had been left in the hole, not even able to see his own hands in the unwavering darkness that surrounded him. He’d tried to think of everything to keep the insanity at bay, thinking of his former life back in New York, his friends, his family—though he had never

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called them that—and Alex. Those first few nights, she had been the only thing that got him through it. Remembering the way she smiled, how happy she was as long as they were together, but the more he thought of her, the more the reality of his current situation sunk in. He wouldn’t say he was optimistic by nature, but he had hoped that he would get out of this and get back home to the one person he needed in his life. But with each day that passed, that hope began to dwindle until now there was nothing left. He had long since accepted that this was his fate, and after everything he had done in his life, this was what he deserved. Luka had tried to get as comfortable as possible in his new cell, stretching out on the floor, adjusting as much as the chain would let him, but anytime he’d even got a modicum of comfort, his tormentors came back to resume what they’d started.

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How long he had been left alone escaped him, but he wasn’t granted a reprieve for long. The door was shoved open again, and Fatos was back with his minions. Luka lost track of how long Fatos toyed with him, alternating between torturing him and professing how much he had been missed. The first night had been easy. He wasn’t a stranger to the techniques that Fatos utilized, especially since he’d been the one to show him how. No, that hadn’t bothered him. Nor the next night, or the following one. Three straight days of physical pain, then nothing. Fatos left him to bleed on the straw, pain, his old friend, the only thing to keep him company. The silence was the real torture. It was deafening, like a physical force suffocating him. He’d always hated it. Then, the torture resumed.

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In the middle of his next session, Fatos had stopped in the middle, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat that had beaded there, only managing to smear Luka’s blood over his face. “Don’t you remember the fun we used to have?” Fatos asked, looking at Luka with wide eyes. “We were a team, you and I. There’s no reason we can’t have that now.” Despite the agony in his chest from the repeated hits he’d sustained and the blood in his mouth, Luka still laughed, coughing some up as he tried to clear his airway. “We were never a team, you delusional fuck.” Fatos looked hurt. “I love you like a brother, Valon. What—” In Albanian, he asked, “What did you want from me, Fatos? Did you want a partner, or did you think me a whore like my mother and thought I would be yours?”

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Fatos’ face colored in rage at what Luka was insinuating, but seeing his reaction only made him laugh. This wasn’t the first time his interests had been questioned, especially when it came to Luka, and just like now, he always grew enraged at the suggestion. But as quickly as that rage had manifested, it vanished as he forced a laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve always been fond of your whores, Valon. Tell me, what do they do for you exactly? Smile coyly when you’re near? Hang onto your every word?” “You don’t care about the whores,” Luka said calmly, spitting out another mouthful of blood. “If you did, Natasha would be dead. Yet you left her alone because you knew she meant shit to me.” Fatos frowned, looking at Luka like he was the one who was insane. “They’re all whores, Valon. Have you learned nothing?” “Only that we’ll both die here.”

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That seemed to, at least momentarily, shut him up but not for long. “I wanted—no, I expected more from you. Yet, you continue to disappoint me.” “This is getting tedious. If you’re going to use that”—he gestured to the whip Fatos held loosely in one hand—“get on with it.” Fire flashed in Fatos’ eyes as he struck out, landing a solid blow to Luka’s face that made him laugh despite himself. No one liked to be laughed at, especially when they were trying to be taken seriously. “You’re not going to goad me into killing you,” Fatos said evenly, making sure he had Luka’s attention as he said this. But he realized too late that he had gotten too close. With a sharp jerk of his head, Luka head butted him, feeling the cartilage of Fatos’ nose give under the pressure. Fatos stumbled back, nearly slipping on the glass

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that littered the floor, but as he righted himself, blood dripping from his nose, Luka saw what he’d been waiting for. Rage. At least now he had actual torture to look forward to and not the sound of Fatos’ voice. Only one of them had helped him get through his time here, but he didn’t know for how much longer. ____ Klaus pulled the last strap of his bullet-proof vest into place, reaching for the guns next. Celt, who stood stoically on the opposite side of the weapons’ room, had his arms folded across his chest He was aware of it, could practically feel the Irishman’s gaze on him as he got ready, but he hadn’t bothered to ask about it until now. “What?” Pushing off the wall, Celt asked, “You sure you can handle this?”

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Glancing over at him, Klaus checked the chamber of his Glock before holstering it. “Why wouldn’t I?” “Even I know this isn’t a normal job for you.” It wasn’t, but Klaus wasn’t going to confirm his words, not when he was using every bit of energy he possessed to keep from acting out. He wouldn’t pretend that over the last six months he hadn’t thought of Luka and what had happened to him, but he hadn’t had the resources to find him. The Albanians had changed their location for operation and were practically working off the grid. Then, the moment he’d gone to Winter for assistance—a hacker who did work for them occasionally—the new handler had called in their team for a job. Klaus hadn’t thought much of it at the time. They were good at what they did individually, but together they were nearly

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unstoppable, but he hadn’t been expecting the specifics of the job they’d been given. The client, Mishca Volkov. The assignment, track and retrieval, and a burn-out. When given a burn-out, they were to kill anyone on sight and leave no evidence that a team had ever been there. It was rare that they did a burn-out, just because it was so hard to ensure that everyone was gone and finished, but with the deaths of Brahim and Jetmir, the two heads of the Organization, it was far easier to destroy an already crumbling infrastructure. No, Klaus’ problem was the fact that he hadn’t known Mishca was going to his handler to make it an official job. He could have just as easily come to Klaus and let him handle it personally. Even if he’d thought the job would have been too much for him, Klaus was fully capable of calling up his team.

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This was another reason Klaus wasn’t sure he could trust Mishca, not completely. This, everything that dealt with these particular Albanians should have been left for them to handle. This was practically all he had lived for. Just another thing Mishca had taken away from him. Klaus glanced back to his friend. “Let’s get this done.” They were not the only two going on this mission. There was also Calavera, the only female mercenary on their team. Her specialty was knives—something Luka would have enjoyed—but she was just as good with a gun. When she wasn’t being pulled off an assignment for special jobs like this one, she stayed over on the East Coast, living on The Strip in Las Vegas. Then there was Payne, a name they all collectively hated, but he’d accepted it. After

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all, he was good at dishing it out. Out of all of them, he looked the most like a criminal, in part because of the raven tattooed on the side of his head, his mohawk sometimes covering it, and then because his canines were capped in silver for reasons only he knew. And finally, offsite, there was Winter, comfortably seated safely behind a desk, already hacking into the Albanians’ mainframe to take control of their security system. She wasn’t officially part of the team, but if a job called for it, Payne called on her for help because otherwise, he feared she would get herself in trouble if he wasn’t watching out for her 24/7. It didn’t help that she was a hacker by trade. Fighting in person was one thing, fighting virtually was something Klaus couldn’t comprehend. There were others who made up their little den of mercenaries, but for this, only a few were needed.

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Chartering a jet from the U.S. to Russia, and then taking a smaller one into Albania, the trip was longer than Klaus would have liked, but he was working hard to quell his anxiousness. After Fatos, there would be no one left. Every person who had contributed to the worst day of his life would be dead…everyone except Luka, but somehow, he had let all of the festering anger toward him go. He still didn’t know why. From the jet, they loaded into a Jeep, Klaus and Celt in the front, Payne and Calavera in the back. Transmitters were placed in their ears. Their gear was checked again, just to make sure nothing was forgotten. As they rounded the bend of the hill, Klaus pulled his mask free of his bag, staring at it for a few moments before pulling it on. It was time. ____

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The pain had finally faded to a dull ache, one that kept Luka on the fringe of consciousness. He’d long since wanted to pass out, to finally get a few seconds of peace from the endless agony, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t slip away. About a foot away from him was large pieces of broken glass from the window Fatos had broken. One was long and jagged enough to have held Luka’s attention for the better part of the night. He wasn’t broken. That was something he had to remind himself of constantly the longer he remained in this place. But…what else did he have to live for? Escaping the Albanians once when they were unaware was one thing, but trying it again, especially without having any weapons and the sheer amount of men Fatos had here…and he would die trying. It wasn’t as if he could return to the life he’d left behind. The Russians would want him dead,

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and he didn’t for a second think that Mishca would stand at his side, not when he’d so happily offered him up. At this point, what more did he had to live for? Despite his shackled hand, Luka stretched as far as he could, ultimately using his foot to drag the piece of glass closer until he could grab it with his hand. It was thick and sturdy, and sharp enough that he knew once he dug it across his flesh, his skin would split. Words couldn’t describe the way he felt at the thought of his blood spilling onto the dirty cement floor beneath him. He longed for that freedom. He longed for this to finally be over. Alex’s smiling face flashed in his mind, just a fleeting moment, one of doubt for what he was about to do. But what could he offer her here?

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She could have so much more without him in her life. Even if by some chance he did get free of this place, Mishca would never accept them together, not now, not after the truth had been revealed. He would never force her to choose between them because he knew she would choose him and he would want her to choose her brother. This was the easy way out, Luka realized as he pressed the glass to his skin. For everybody. He applied pressure. Just enough that the sharp bite of pain made him blink, looking to his own arm where blood was welling. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. But the moment he’d readied to pull his weapon along his skin was the same moment he heard muffled gunshots. There was no reason for Fatos to be shooting at one of his own men, which could only mean that

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someone was here…an enemy who Luka didn’t know about. The Albanian Syndicate had plenty of enemies of their own without factoring in the Bratva, probably more since Luka had left this place. It was one thing to be tortured by people he knew, he could at least account for what they were going to do to him, but something else to face an unknown threat. Luka couldn’t go through this again. Gripping the glass harder, he’d resolved himself to the decision he made. Just a second away from ending this, the door was kicked open and an assault rifle was the first thing his eyes focused on besides the light pouring in. He knew, even with the mask, that he was looking at Klaus. Who the other person was coming in behind him was still a mystery. Luka didn’t release his hold on his weapon, not even when Klaus shoved the

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mask up, revealing his face. He should have felt relief at seeing him there, but the only thing he felt was confusion. He didn’t know if what he was seeing was reality or if this was all just a dream. But if this were the latter and there were no consequences to what he was going to do, he would accept it happily. Maybe he had passed out or else was suffering under an intense delusion because there was no other way that Klaus could be here. “He’s gone ‘round the bend then?” A man, the one he didn’t recognize, was standing over him with a machine gun in hand. “I got him, Payne. Just make sure the others are dead.” The Englishman looked at Klaus, shrugging once before heading off. Klaus took a hesitant step forward, and instead of his usual arrogance, he looked thoughtful. He crouched in front of him, his forearms

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resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together in front of him. It was the most vulnerable he had ever allowed himself to be, especially around Luka. “I think I’m dying,” Luka whispered brokenly, the sound of his own voice sounding foreign to him. “I didn’t think you would be the last person I see before I go, though.” He looked away. “Do I need your forgiveness before I finally stop breathing? Would you even offer it?” Klaus shook his head, reaching a hand out for Luka’s, his hold firm. He didn’t understand why at first or even how his touch felt so real. “This is real,” he said quietly. “I’m here, right now. But I need you to put this down so I can help you,” he said with a nod of his head to the glass that Luka was gripping so tightly, his hand was bleeding.

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Luka, who was realizing this wasn’t a delusion, let his hand fall open, watching the glass clatter to the floor. He looked up at Klaus with haunted eyes and asked the only question he could. “I’m not dead.” “Not today,” he answered as he withdrew a handgun from a holster at his back, shooting at the chain that bound Luka to the wall. Dragging his arm over his shoulders, Klaus helped him to his feet, supporting most of his weight since he could barely stand. He made a concentrated effort to walk on his own, but whenever his step faltered, Klaus was there, wordlessly righting him. Luka was good at pretending. Pretending that everything was okay now. Pretending that he wasn’t stepping over multiple bodies as Klaus walked him out of his own personal hell.

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They ventured out the front door of the house, sunshine making Luka’s pupils contract painfully. He didn’t know where they were going, and he didn’t care, as long as it was far away from here. “You got the package?” Luka forced his head up at the voice, looking at a girl who was a small thing but looked like she could handle herself pretty well since she was armed like the rest of them. Had Klaus gotten his team to break him out? If Klaus gave a response to her question, Luka didn’t hear it. “Celt’s waiting for you with the other one.” Other one? Was there another person Fatos had kept here as a prisoner? It would make sense since he enjoyed hurting others, but Luka didn’t think he had heard anyone else’s screams but his own.

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The girl, whatever her name was, swooped down beneath Luka’s other arm, helping them move faster across the lot. Laughing humorlessly though his ribs ached, Luka said, “Sorry, I’m spoken for.” “I just bet you are,” she responded wryly, her Spanish accent warm and friendly. As they ventured closer to Celt—one mercenary Luka actually did know—he felt a chill run down his spine at the sheer amount of bodies around the place. He had never doubted the efficiency in which Klaus worked, but seeing it up close and personal, especially with how calm everyone was, was kind of terrifying to witness. Fatos was on his knees, his lip split, his eye swelling rapidly. And even after all he had done, he still looked at Luka with reverence in his eyes. Celt took a step back, his gaze flickering from Luka to Klaus. “Your call.”

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The girl stepped out from under Luka, moving away so that she was out of range, but more surprising, Klaus moved too, but Luka knew this needed to happen. After all they had taken from him, it was no surprise that he wanted Fatos dead. He had told him as much when he’d first suspected that he was in New York. But, this time he wouldn’t stand in the way. If Klaus wanted him dead, it was only a matter of time… Someone place a gun in Luka’s hand and the sight of it did nothing to change the way he felt inside. He couldn’t help but look at Klaus, the question clear in his eyes. He merely nodded, not offering an answer, but Luka could guess. This was for him as much as it was for Klaus. As he looked over at his former friend, someone he had known for far too long, he finally began to feel something other than

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the emptiness that had taken hold of him since he’d been here. Staring down at him, Luka didn’t doubt the bond between them, one that probably could never be broken, even in death. He knew that Fatos cared about him in his own way and had always wanted his love and approval. But Luka had learned the hard way that Fatos was a bit obsessive, and no matter what Luka did, it wasn’t enough. Luka should have put him down years ago before it had come to this, but in a way, Luka had loved him too much to see his life ended. “You won’t do it,” Fatos taunted from his position on the ground. “You never could.” But that was the thing about love. While it could never completely disappear, his love for someone else gave him the strength to do what he should have a long time ago.

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“You shouldn’t have come for me,” Luka said beneath his breath. “And you should have never touched her.” Fatos was losing his smile, aware that there was something different about this time than the last. Before Luka could talk himself out of this, and before Fatos could plead for mercy that he wouldn’t get, Luka pulled the trigger. Only once, but it was enough, the bullet ripping through the middle of his forehead, leaving him slumped in the dirt, his eyes still open, his mouth frozen in a semismile. A life of sordid hell, all over within seconds. Luka dropped the gun, almost like the weight of it was too much for him. He swayed on his feet as what little energy he had left drained away. The last thing he had seen before unconsciousness took him was Klaus reaching to break his fall.

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____ Klaus took a swig of his beer, gaze still trained on the bed where the giant lump had yet to move since he’d been deposited there several hours ago. They had worked Luka over pretty well, and from the look of him—from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his dirty feet—he hadn’t had a decent meal in all that time. He was noticeably thinner, and he looked like he was circling the drain. All the times Klaus had seen him, he’d always looked so hardened, the killing machine that he’d been turned into. But now, Klaus was seeing him at his lowest, or at least he had. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get the image of Luka ready to slash his own wrists out of his head. Remembering that, how he’d had to physically stop him from doing it…that was one thing he wished he could forget.

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Groaning, Luka came awake slowly, then all at once as he shot upright. He immediately regretted the decision as he touched a hand to his side, feeling the bandages that had been wrapped around his torso. “At least tell me we made it out of the fucking country,” he grumbled, turning bloodshot, watery eyes to Klaus. Nodding, Klaus said, “We did.” “And Fatos…he’s really dead.” “Burned his body just to be sure.” Luka lay back, his eyes already drifting closed again. “Must’ve been nice.” Klaus smirked. “Take it easy. Get some sleep. You probably need it.” But he had already passed out again.

48 ____ Goodbye Pain was the one thing, the one physical entity that Luka could count on. Despite waking up in a bed of soft down, the agony throughout his entire body was so great that it didn’t matter the comfort. Disoriented, he tried to get his bearings, turning over as carefully as possible. His arm went around his torso so he could feel the bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs. Luka didn’t have the luxury of not remembering his time with Fatos and the others. He remembered the torture, every single time Fatos entered that room, his ensuing

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rescue, and even putting a bullet in Fatos’ forehead. But everything after that was a blur. Looking around the barren space, there was only the bed he was on, a small table to his right that held a couple of bottles of unopened water and another that was empty. It reminded him of his own home…at least before Alex had turned it into something worth living in. Shifting to the side of the bed, he dropped his feet to the ground, groaning at the sharp stab of pain that shot through him at the movement. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he fought past it, trying to get to his feet, but the sound of a metal door sliding open gave him pause. “Good. You’re awake. I thought you were dead.”

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Luka turned watery eyes to Klaus as he came into the room, wiping grease off his hands with a small hand towel. “Where am I?” His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, scratchy and hoarse from sleep. “Safe house.” “Right.” Struggling to his feet, Luka slowly made his way over to the stained windows, glancing out. He knew New York like the back of his hand, so he could tell with one look that they weren’t in the state. “How ya feeling?” Like he’d been tortured relentlessly for months on end. “Fine.” Klaus took a seat on the bed, laying his hands on his knees. “Look, I know you’re in shit shape, and the last thing you want to talk about is Fatos, but we need—” “What were you doing in Berat? Why do all of this?” he asked with a wave of his

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hand, encompassing the entirety of their situation. “An assignment.” “An assignment?” Luka didn’t know why that bothered him so much. …Or at least he didn’t want to acknowledge why. Maybe a part of him had hoped that someone, whether it was Klaus or Mishca, had helped him because they cared…not because he was an assignment. “Look, Luka—” “It’s Valon, remember?” Whatever kindness had been in Klaus’ face disappeared as a mask slipped over his features. “How could I forget? But you spent the better part of six years trying to erase that past, no? In fact, you made it a point to avoid or kill anyone who might have blown that past up.” Luka ground his teeth, wishing he could block out his words.

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If his past could have been buried with the least amount of casualties, Luka would have taken up that offer years ago. But he had let fear, along with misplaced loyalty, cloud his thoughts. To the point that if he acted like they didn’t exist, that none of it had ever happened, then it wouldn’t ultimately affect what he had in his new life. He should have known better. No, he knew better, but he just hadn’t acted on his impulses. Now, here he was thousands of miles away from the piece of life he’d built for himself and even further from the one person he burned to be with. But what did any of that matter now? “You got your revenge, no? Everyone from that day is dead. Unless you’re planning to kill me, too? If so, I think this assignment was a lot of working for nothing.”

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“Like I told you before, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. Besides, I think we’ve come to an understanding since then, yeah?” “So what was the plan? What was the assignment exactly?” “Extract one ungrateful ass Albanian and kill anyone else.” Klaus tapped his leg with his fist. “And when I say that, I mean everyone.” Luka looked back at him in disbelief. “There’s no guarantee that you got to every single person in the Organization. It isn’t possible.” “No? You seriously underestimate what my team is capable of.” “Your team?” “Don’t tell me you don’t remember the others? They’d be offended.” Luka started to respond, but caught himself, realizing a little late that they were bantering. “What are we doing here?”

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“I figured you wanted some time to yourself before we got back.” “I’m not going back.” Klaus frowned. “Come again?” “You heard me.” “Yeah, I heard you, but considering that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard you say—and trust me there’s a lot—I needed to make sure.” “There’s nothing left for me in New York.” “No? There’s your Bratva? Lauren? And Ale—” Luka laughed bitterly. “Right. I know Mishca practically gift-wrapped me for Fatos. How am I supposed to work with someone I can’t trust?” “We got on just fine, I thought.” Ignoring his comment, Luka said, “Don’t tell them.”

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Klaus looked confused, readjusting the beanie covering his hair. “Do you actually hear yourself right now?” “After the first week in the hole, I thought maybe I was still wrong, that there was a plan in place, some shit I didn’t know. Three weeks, I started to doubt everything. Then, when I couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of time, I stopped believing in anything. “So, no. When I leave this place, don’t follow me.” Luka had nothing left. He didn’t have any access to money, and he didn’t even have the energy to continue this conversation any longer. So, turning his back to Klaus, he headed for the door. “What about Alex?” He paused, steeling himself. “I’m doing this for her.”

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He would rather her believe him dead than see the betrayal in her eyes.

49 ____ Bargains Eight Months Ago… Following the hostess to a table in the center of the room, away from the other diners seated nearby, Mishca pulled his Blackberry from his pocket and saw his wife’s smiling face staring back at him from the vibrating device. Before it could ring too long, he switched it off. For this meeting, he didn’t need any interruptions, nor did he need any distractions. And then there was the fact that the man he was meeting had insisted on it.

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He declined the menu offered to him but did order two fingers of Scotch, needing something to take the edge off. It wasn’t making it to the top that was hard, it was remaining there that the work came in. Mishca had never thought it’d be easy taking over where Mikhail had left it. There was the constant monitoring of accounts, ensuring everything ran smoothly, not to mention the sheer amount of people he had to account for. And with the men Mikhail had under them, Mishca had spent the better part of the last year rebuilding and bringing in people he trusted. But the last person he’d thought to doubt was Luka. Before he’d left for Italy, there was no reason for him to think that once his guy finished digging into everyone’s pasts, there wouldn’t be anything about Luka that he didn’t already know. Maybe the body count was far higher than he’d anticipated, but that

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was just the price of working with someone like him. Except the night he got the call, the last night of his honeymoon, in fact, he didn’t believe it. But no matter how it was repeated to him, no matter how he’d asked for the facts to be reevaluated, the answer was still the same. Six years ago, when he’d gone to that house in the middle of nowhere and found the brother he hadn’t known existed—the torture he’d been through was Luka’s work. Of course, he’d never thought the two were related. It wasn’t as if Luka had appeared immediately after Klaus had gone off, and after all, Luka had worked under Mikhail for more than a year before he’d come to Mishca. Of course, now he could see it. No one Mishca knew was as good with a blade as Luka was. Even stranger was the fact that Klaus hadn’t spoken a word about it, and while

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there was always that animosity between him and Luka, Mishca had just thought it was because of Luka’s personality. He might have felt betrayed by what Luka had done, but in the end, he couldn’t be any angrier than Klaus was, and more than that, he had only been a pawn in the grand scheme of things. Mikhail had truly been behind it. And if anyone was going to beat the shit out of Luka for what he’d done, it would be Mishca. But word had gotten around that Fatos and his minions were on the hunt for Luka, and Mishca knew it wasn’t just because of Bastian’s death. There was too much history there. Too much left unfinished. Bastian was the excuse. Maybe, in a perfect world, if Luka hadn’t butchered Bastian, the Albanians might not be plotting to take him, but Mishca knew that it was all a waiting game.

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So long as Luka lived, they would be waiting to take him out. The only way they could prevent a war was to use the excuse of Luka killing Bastian to take him back to their homeland. He didn’t think any of them would bring up what Luka had done to Klaus all those years ago— that was what deals were for—but there was one other thing that Mishca didn’t understand about Fatos. Why he was so determined to get Luka. But whatever the reason, Mishca had always hated making deals with the Albanians. And he wouldn’t have to now that he was in charge. There was only so much Mishca could do without this turning into an all-out war. He’d weighed the odds and agonized over them, but if he wanted Luka to make it out of that—not to mention his wife, his sister, and his organization—then he had to play this the only way he knew how.

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That was why Mishca called the only person capable of what he needed done. From what Mishca had learned about the Albanian Fatos, his strange obsession with Luka might be beneficial. As the waitress returned with his drink, she wasn’t alone. The man Mishca was meeting was as much a mystery as he was a legend in the black market. Unlike Mishca, who still had a very public profile, as he owned a couple of nightclubs and other businesses, this man practically lived and thrived in solitude. The only thing Mishca knew about him was that he owned The Den, the organization in which Klaus worked. In fact, this man was Klaus’ handler, at least the new one from what Mishca understood. He was the only person who had enough power that he was able to retain a team of mercenaries that were only loyal to them, especially when

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mercenaries tended to follow the highest dollar. Oh, and the name he went by. The Kingmaker. Mishca stood out of respect, accepting the extended hand before he reclaimed his chair. He thanked the girl for his drink before she hurried off. The man sat, his gaze rapt on Mishca. While intense, there was still something his gaze that seemed bored by this. “Volkov. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” “We haven’t…” he trailed off, not knowing what to call him. He smiled. “Names have power, Volkov. I won’t give you mine. Tell me, how can I help your predicament. If I were in your place, I think I would have handed over Valon Ahmeti to the men who want him. Just to save myself the trouble.” Mishca blinked, hoping his surprise didn’t reflect on his face. He shouldn’t have

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been—not when this man was in the business of information—but having someone know the particulars about something that had been an ongoing secret for the better part of six years, especially when there were so few people left who actually had first-hand knowledge of that day…well, Mishca wasn’t prepared. “In all due respect, how I conduct my business is for me to worry about.” Men could be fickle, and some might have still taken offense to Mishca’s words, but the Kingmaker was no such man. “Fair enough. Here’s how I can help you, Mr. Volkov. I know Fatos has an unhealthy infatuation with your Albanian underling, and for that reason, we know that he will not kill him immediately. If anything, he would rather keep him alive and torture him for a bit, just because he enjoys it. When the heat of your incursion has worn down, my

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men will go in, retrieve him, and destroy anything within a mile of the compound.” “Destroy?” Mishca asked. He needed to be sure that the sheer amount of money he was putting into this operation was worth it. “By the time they finish, there will be nothing left. Your Albanian problem will cease to exist.” Mishca nodded, finishing the last of his drink. “And how long after he’s taken will the mission begin?” “Twelve weeks.” His fingers tightened around the glass as he brought it back down onto the table, meeting the eyes of the man across from him. “You want me to allow one of my men to be tortured for twelve weeks?” “This is not a simple smash-and-grab as you Russians are so fond of. It takes patience, skill, and a knowledge of the complex organization that you want destroyed, all of which you do not possess. Either you accept

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the deal as it stands or leave him there, but remember that after those six months, either he will die or you save his life. Make your choice.” Now, Mishca understood why Klaus disliked his new handler. The man was an asshole. A powerful one and nearly untouchable, but an asshole nonetheless. And regretfully, he was Mishca’s only choice. Nodding once, Mishca agreed. “Pleasure doing business with you, Volkov.” He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Word of advice.” He didn’t speak until Mishca was looking at him. “Sometimes the men you get back after torture are not the same as they went in. Be careful that you don’t bring something back that you can’t control.” ____ Staring down at his son’s sleeping form, Mishca hoped for peace. He longed for

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it after the strain he’d been under over the last six months, but it didn’t come. Just for a moment, when Lauren had delivered the baby, sending a sweaty and tired smile his way once the baby was in her arms did he feel the lone emotion that had eluded him. Happiness. But it was fleeting, and while he did his best to ignore that longing he felt, it was hard. Not once in the twenty years Alex had been alive had she ever truly been angry with him enough to sever all contact. Upset? Occasionally, and there had even been that one time when they hadn’t spoken for a couple of days, her giving him the silent treatment, but she had come around as she always did. Now? He wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t expected her to understand his reasoning. He only expected her to respect that he had made the decision. Mishca wasn’t used to explaining his every action, even with Lauren. They had been together

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for nearly four years, married for almost a year, and she still forced information out of him that he might not have shared initially. The only person who hadn’t seemed angry with him was Klaus, but that wasn’t saying much. Truthfully, he hadn’t expressed any clear feelings about the entire matter. Reaching a hand out, Mishca trailed his fingers over Sacha's hair, softly so as not to wake him. His lips were slightly parted, his little breaths soft, chest rising and falling with each lungful. Sacha was perfect in every sense of the word. “Mish…” He turned, smiling softly at the sight of his wife in the doorway. She looked tired, rightfully so, as they had a four-month-old, but her eyes held an alertness to them that told Mishca she had something to say to him. Walking to her, he spared one last glance to Sacha, heading out of the nursery

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behind her, pulling the door closed behind them. She sat on the couch, curling her legs up beneath her, arms folded across her chest. Mishca sat across from her, arms open. She looked tempted, but her shoulders tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. He couldn’t win her over that easily apparently. “You fucked up, Mish,” she began softly, her eyes going from determined to anguished in seconds. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand down his face, tearing his gaze away from her. “Am I going to need a drink for this?” “Maybe, but I want you to actually hear me. Alcohol will only dull that.” He frowned, turning so she had his full attention. “I always hear you, Lauren. Always.” “But not about Luka.” He should have known she wanted to talk about this. It seemed he wasn’t the only

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person still hung up on that day six months ago. Truthfully, no one knew how hard that decision had been for him or the thought that had gone into it. It wasn’t until much later did he even think he’d made a mistake. “His name is Valon.” That fire was back in her eyes, even if his answer had been lacking its former vehemence. “The only business that I let you be involved in is legitimate. I’ve tried not to let anything to do with the Bratva touch you. I’m not going to change that now.” She smirked, pulling the collar of her blouse to the right, revealing one of the two stars he’d inked onto her chest. A symbol of both the life he revered and the lengths he would go to to protect her. “Too late.” “Lauren—” “Explain it to me, Mish,” she interrupted. “If Klaus wasn’t upset—and it wasn’t like

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he was in the dark about it all—then why were you so angry?” “Don’t forget that it was supposed to be me in that chair. Had Niklaus never come to New York that weekend, circumstances would be completely different now.” “You keep thinking of it that way, but the way I see it, Luka helped you in a way that you’re not seeing. Yes, he did reprehensible acts against Klaus—I’m not excusing that—but ultimately, he’d been the one to free him. He called you and told you where to find him. Without him, you would have never known that you had a brother. Since then, Luka has done so much, even more for you. I like to think he was making up for the past.” It wasn’t like the Albanians’ appearance here had come as a surprise. It wasn’t even a surprise when they asked for him to hand over Luka, knowing that it would have been an act of war if they’d just taken him.

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For months, ever since the last day of their honeymoon, Mishca had agonized over the truth that he had learned through a single phone call about the one person who he thought he could trust in the Bratva. He had contemplated over and over again what he would do because, despite his personal feelings, an example had to be made. People in their circles had a terrible habit of gossiping, even if the majority of them were grown men. If word had gotten around that Mishca had accepted someone who had tried so boldly to slight him in the past, especially with what the Albanians had planned to do to him, then that would have made him look weak. He already had one—now two— glaring weaknesses. He didn’t want them to continue to pile up. But even then, he’d grown to love Luka like a brother, an annoying younger brother actually, and hadn’t wanted to see Luka suffer the way he knew he would.

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Ultimately, he’d made the only decision he could. One that would preserve face in the view of their organization, and one that he believed would ultimately help Luka in the long-term. He knew all too well the danger of having a past that was bearing down on you. “He should have come to me,” Mishca said finally as he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being. Her knowing smile was sad as she asked, “And would your reaction have been any different?” That, too, was something he’d thought about constantly. Would he have done anything differently had Luka told him as opposed to an outside source? He went with the truth, or at least what felt like it. “I don’t know. The point is moot.” “But it’s not. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Alex is angry with you. More

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angry than she was when she found out about Anya and Viktor.” She hadn’t been angry at first, Mishca remembered. She’d looked broken, hurt in a way that had made his heart clench. “That’s never who I wanted for Alex anyway.” Scoffing, Lauren rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m sure Ross was overjoyed the first time he met you.” Smiling slightly, Mishca shrugged one shoulder. “Different times.” “Luka loves her and she loves him. You can’t fight that any more than Ross could have fought you and me. Right now, the only thing Alex is thinking about is how it’s your fault Luka isn’t here.” Mishca shook his head, as stubborn as he’d always been. “They would have come for him regardless.” “But you made a choice to hand him over. She watched you willingly let them

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drag him out. Hell, if I didn’t love you as much as I do, I would be more angry with you than I am.” “If I recall, you didn’t let me sleep in our bedroom for a week…” “True, and probably would have been longer if the baby didn’t act like having your hand resting on my stomach was the only thing that helped him sleep at night.” She waved her hand in the air. “That’s besides the point. If you want your sister to come home, and I mean actually come back to stay instead of going out of her way to avoid you every time she’s in New York, then you need to make this right.” He sighed. “What would you have me do?” “Go get him.” “You would have me go to war against the Albanians?” “If it were you over there, I would have done worse, and you know it. You’re

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only lucky that Klaus refused to take the job when I asked him to do it.” His eyes narrowed dangerously, but his displeasure was lost on her—or ignored—as she matched his glare with one of her own. “Fix this,” Lauren said quietly, “or Sacha will have to grow up without his auntie and uncle because Daddy’s being a dick.” “Uncle?” Now she smiled, a genuine one. “They’re inevitable, Mish. Always have been.” Sighing, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her lightly. “I’ve already taken care of it.” _____ Six months later… Klaus turned his collar up to the wind as he headed back to his hotel. He’d spent most of his night standing outside a tavern in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen staring through

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the large windows to the girl behind the bar. She wore a small black apron around her waist, that familiar burnished red hair pulled into a messy bun and stabbed through with a pencil. Though he stood there for a little more than an hour, she’d been oblivious to his presence. She was lost in the life, whatever life he had left her to after he’d left New York City. Ever since his return, he’d contemplated going to her, sparking up the conversation they should have had long ago, but he hadn’t been the same person he was now. Still bitter, he still harbored anger toward the world, but at some point, that red film of rage had lifted and he was no longer a slave to it. He didn’t know if he had her to thank for showing him kindness at a time when he needed it. Klaus never liked being wrong. He hated it, in fact, and more than that, he disliked making mistakes. And now, as he

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headed home after a long night and time spent wishing for other things—things he had no business wishing for considering the life he led—he might have made a mistake five years ago when he’d left New York City and the girl, Reagan. Somehow, despite all the people he had met and the sheer volume of information he processed daily, he still remembered her name. That told him all he needed to know. Reaching his motel soon after, he dug the key out of his pocket. Before he’d received the brand on his neck, Klaus hadn’t cared what hotel he stayed at as long as it was clean. Now, his stipulations were different. While it still had to be clean, he preferred motels since the managers usually looked the other way and accepted cash only. He also preferred places where an actual key was needed to get into the room. It was all too easy to duplicate an electronic key.

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Celt had driven that point home since he was a freak about security. Disengaging the lock, Klaus turned the knob and pushed, walking through and slamming the door behind him. It was dark in the room, all the lights turned out, but there was just enough moonlight streaking through the blinds for him to see Mishca sitting at the small dining table, turning a cigarette over between his fingers. While he might have felt surprise at seeing him there, especially since he hadn’t noticed anything off about the door, Klaus didn’t let it show. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossing it on the bed, pulling a chair up so he could start unlacing his boots and taking them off. “Are you going to continue and sit in the darkness or get the fuck on with whatever you came here to say?” Since the Albanians took Luka, Mishca and he hadn’t seen much of each other, and the few times they had was because

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of Lauren. Klaus didn’t doubt that there would always be this tension between them for the sins of others. But they had come a long way since Klaus had stared at him through the scope of a rifle, contemplating taking his life. Tossing his boots to an empty corner of the room, Klaus sat back in his chair, laying his arms on the armrests and studying the man across from him. He knew all too well how singular events could change everything. While Mishca had always seemed so cold, except when it came to his wife who he let his guard down around, there was something almost weary about his expression tonight, one that sparked a shred of pity in Klaus. He might have led a life that was mostly death and darkness, but Mishca was burdened with a legacy that he wasn’t. He still wore his usual blank expression, never wanting to reveal his thoughts even for a

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moment, but Klaus was finding it easier to read him. …Or maybe it was because it was easy to read his own reflection. One eyebrow raised, Klaus decided to break the silence Mishca was seemingly determined to keep. “What do you want, Russian?” “Where is he?” Klaus didn’t have to ask who he meant because they both already knew. There was only one person who Mishca would come to him, specifically, about. But the real question was, why now? What had changed that made him track Klaus down in the wee hours of the night? He tried to reason out the answer on his own, but not coming up with an answer, he decided to ask. “Even if I knew, why would you want to know?” “My reasons are my own.”

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Typical vague Russian bullshit. “Then I can’t help you.” The muscle in Mishca’s jaw jumped as he ground his teeth, probably in an effort not to give a retort. “Whatever your reason for keeping Valon’s history to yourself is your business. I won’t pry. But on this, I need answers.” “Why?” Klaus asked, genuinely wanting to know. “I thought he was dead to you.” Mishca frowned. “You know that’s not true.” “You wanna know what I don’t understand about you, Russian? You claimed you wanted to hash this shit out, to put the past behind us, but you went to my handler directly.” Klaus shook his head in disgust. “I could have handled that shit on my own.” “Could you?” Mishca asked in the infuriatingly condescending tone of his. “Do you know the sheer number of people involved in that mission?”

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“Obviously. I think I was there, Russian.” “Then you know about the team who raided the Besnik compound in London? And the other that infiltrated a meeting on a yacht in the middle of the Bering Sea?” Actually…that was news to Klaus, but he was careful not to let his surprise show. But Mishca knew the truth. “What everyone fails to realize is that I didn’t make this decision lightly. When Fatos came to me for Luka, I didn’t want to see him cast out, even if I wanted to strangle the life out of him.” Klaus could see it, the residual anger lying dormant inside of him, but it was clearly ready to come out. “Those Albanians were like fucking roaches. Even when one was dead, others took its place. This wasn’t just about getting Luka out of a fucked-up situation, but also about preventing another one from

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happening. Fatos wasn’t the only person that I wanted taken out. I got rid of their entire network. Because neither you nor him would ever be able to move on with your fucking lives until it ended. So you’re welcome. Now, if the lot of you would get off my fucking back for what you think you know, it would be appreciated.” Climbing to his feet, Mishca shoved a hand through his hair, getting his temper under control. “You know where he is, and at present, I really don’t care. You tell that little shit that if he wants any future with this Bratva or with my sister, then he better be in my office within seventy-two hours.” Klaus could only blink as he watched Mishca leave—he didn’t even have the nerve to slam the door as Klaus would have done if the positions were reversed. Asshole. Now…it looked like he had to catch a flight.

50 _____ It’s Time “Are you just going to continue to stalk her,” Klaus began as he came up beside the former enforcer, not surprised in the slightest to find him there, “Or no?” He’d been honest when he told Mishca that he hadn’t known where Luka was, but he had had an idea. They were only a few blocks from Alex’s apartment, sitting at a small café near the market where Alex, oblivious to their presence, was busy shopping about a block down, speaking candidly to a boy who trailed beside her. She looked less angry than the

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last time he’d seen her, but there was a sadness radiating from her. Maybe, if she looked up, just once, and caught them sitting there watching her, maybe that sadness would go away. Luka looked better, his bruises having faded, and he looked to have put on a little weight though not as much as he probably needed. His hair was still cut short, though it was obvious he was growing it out. Tapping his fingers against the table to a cadence only he knew, Luka stiffened at Klaus’ unwelcome intrusion even though he kept his gaze on Alex. Klaus would never admit it, but he missed that sardonic smirk and crude humor of the Albanian sitting across from him. If not for looking at him, he might not have recognized him. He was just there, as though all the life had been taken from him, and he was now merely a shell.

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The same way he looked when they had first met. “She’s free.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Klaus asked, frowning. “I needed to know,” he went on as though Klaus hadn’t spoken at all. “I needed to know she would be okay without me.” Luka stood without warning. Alex was on the move, heading in the opposite direction with her male friend. Klaus tossed a bill down on the table, keeping in stride with Luka though it was clear that he wasn’t wanted. “Listen, you’re needed back in New York.” “I’m not going back.” At least he was acknowledging Klaus’ presence. That was progress. “Just because you had a little scuffle doesn’t excuse you from your duties.”

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Luka paused, turning to glare at Klaus who merely raised his brows. “Too soon?” “Fuck off, Klaus.” He mumbled something Klaus couldn’t hear, digging into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he had there. Pulling one free, he lit it and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke as they easily moved through the crowd. After a moment, Klaus realized that they were still following Alex, who was now on the move. “Are you content doing this?” Klaus asked, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Following her around like a lost puppy when you could be with her. I mean, who’s left to stand in your way. Last I remember, you shot Fatos at point-blank range. Or maybe I imagined that?” “How could I? After everything I’ve done.” “She doesn’t care about that.”

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“But I do.” “So, what? Are you just going to walk away?” Luka took one last drag from the cigarette he was smoking before tossing it down and grinding it out. “Did I ever have a choice?” Klaus couldn’t explain it, but anger filled him, and as they were crossing the street, he shoved him into the alley. He might not have realized it until that moment, but he had been treating Luka with kid gloves ever since Berat. Knowing firsthand what torture could do to a person, he’d chosen to give Luka his freedom, giving him time to cope with what he had suffered. But not once had he ever thought that Luka would give up everything. This life of theirs…this was all he knew. It was clear that Luka was still wallowing in whatever guilt he might have

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carried, but Klaus wasn’t going to let him remain there, not anymore. Balling his fist, Klaus swung, landing a solid punch to Luka’s face, grabbing his shirt with his free hand to keep him upright. When he didn’t react quick enough, Klaus swung again, only this time, he finally got a reaction. “Hit me again and you’ll lose your hand.” Klaus didn’t doubt he meant it. “You’re acting like a little bitch,” he said now that he was sure he had Luka’s attention. “Two years from now, let’s say she’s happy with whoever the fuck that little shit was. When the Russian’s enemies come for her, who will be here to protect her? ‘Cause that poor bastard won’t know his own asshole when guys show up with fucking sigs ready to blow a hole in him to get to her. And by the time the Russian even realizes what’s happening, she’ll be long gone.

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“In the time that you’ve spent watching her, how many times have you heard her talk to him? To Lauren? Maybe twice on the latter, but the Russian? She wants nothing to do with him because of what she thinks he did to you.” “Thinks?” Luka spat back, barely contained fury radiating from him. “He fucking handed me over!” “Believe it or not, the Russian had his reasons. And whether you like it or not, those reasons are the only thing that got you out alive.” Luka scoffed. “Yeah? Could have sworn it was your face I was staring at that day.” “Were you so quick to forget who else was there that day? It wasn’t just me, but my entire team. The Russian may have a lot of pull, but he doesn’t have that much.” “What are you trying to say?” “Go. See. The. Russian.”

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But Luka was still being stubborn. “I promised her I’d always be there, that I’d never let any bad shit touch her. Because of me, she was buried alive. She had to sleep with the lights on for a week after that.” Luka shook his head, the self-hatred in his eyes clear. “What the fuck can I give her that doesn’t end with her getting hurt?” “You and that Russian are annoying as shit,” Klaus said, agitated. “All you do is bitch. ‘Oh, I can’t protect her. She’s better off without me.’ Stop being a pussy and go fix it. Own up to your shit. Bottom line, the only thing keeping her from you is you.” Luka didn’t respond, but he blew out a breath, the tension leaving him. Reaching into his back pocket, Klaus pulled out an envelope. “Your plane to New York leaves in an hour. Don’t ever say I never did anything for you.”

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Only when Luka snatched it from him, bumping into his shoulder as he left the alley without a word did Klaus smile. His work was done.

51 ____ Bleeding Stars Walking out of the airport, it was an entirely different experience from the last time he’d done the same. Sliding into one of several yellow cabs that lined the entrance, he sat back in the cracked leather seat and gave the driver his address. He watched as the concrete turned to lush green, and finally, he was traveling down that familiar road that he had found by chance years ago. He hadn’t been gone for very long, but when he arrived back at his house, it felt like he was seeing it with new eyes.

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Tipping the cabbie an extra forty dollars, Luka headed inside, dropping his duffel in the entryway. Going through each room, he took his time, breathing in the familiar air of a place that hadn’t been touched by his former life in Albania. For once, there was nothing around that brought back bad memories…it was the opposite actually. The only thing he could think of as he ventured through was Alex and the memories they shared here. And more… Hopefully. Taking a shower, Luka scrubbed the day away, then got dressed, and was back out of the house and heading for his Jeep. He smiled at the mud-caked monstrosity, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting it up, the roar of the engine like music to his ears. Things almost felt normal, like he had been on a job for a long time and was now

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back, but there was one vital person—and Loki—who he was more than ready to see. And for her, he would do the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t… Thirty minutes later, he found himself outside of Club 221, watching people move in and out as they prepared for the night’s events. Heading inside, Luka ignored the few double-takes he got from some of the employees. Of course, they wouldn’t have know why he had gone, only that he wasn’t around anymore…which could have meant a number of things. It wasn’t until he neared that back hallway that he raised his guard, eyeing the two men who stood watch there. He didn’t remember either of them, so they had to be new, but both obviously had opinions of him as they frowned as he came closer.

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One was bolder than his friend, however, holding out a hand to stop Luka in his tracks. “Do you have an appointment?” Luka glanced down at the hand that was mere inches from his chest. When he looked back up, he relaxed his stance, a smile curling his lips. Full circle, indeed. With a shrug, he answered, “No.” It was all too clear that they would deny him access to Mishca’s office, and while he might have toyed with them before, Luka was working on a short fuse. In the time it took for him to reach behind him to grab the knife he had sheathed there, he thought of how quickly it would be to end their lives…feel the life drain out of them just as their blood did. “I’m really not in the mood to find someone to clean blood off this floor,” Mishca announced as he stepped out of his

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office, glaring at the three of them. “Let him through before you really piss him off.” The shorter of the two followed orders obediently, stepping off to the side though he didn’t look happy about it. The other, he laid the flat of his hand against Luka’s sternum and gave him a shove. Before he even acknowledged that he would hurt him, Luka’s fist shot out, connecting with his nose. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage. Dropping like a sack of potatoes, Luka stepped over him, digging his hands into his pockets as he entered Mishca’s office. Luka remained standing until Mishca joined him, shutting the office door behind him. His former boss gestured for him to take a seat as he went back behind his desk and reclaimed his own seat.

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They sat in silence for some time until Luka finally broke it. “How long had you known?” Tapping his thumb against his desk, Mishca met his gaze head on. “Since my honeymoon. You knew better than anyone that after Vlad, I had to verify everyone. That included you. Of course, I didn’t expect to find anything, but when it comes to you…I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.” Shaking his head, Mishca looked thoughtful. “I never doubted your loyalty, even after I learned the truth. Even Klaus was reluctant to confess to it when I confronted him about it.” But none of that made sense, and no matter how he tried to rationalize it over the last six months, he was no closer to an answer. “If you knew…why didn’t you ever say anything.” “I wanted you come to me.”

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Luka felt his temper spark. “All of this could have been avoided.” Mishca arched a brow, the challenge in his eyes clear. “How long have you been a part of the Bratva? And in that time, how many of your former Organization have come looking for you? Even when Jetmir came—which I now understand the animosity there—he never mentioned your involvement. Fatos’ appearance here…who the fuck could have known that he was so intent on dragging you back to Berat?” “You let them take me. Practically handed me over.” Sighing, Misha looked just over Luka’s shoulder. “It seems I’ve needed to repeat myself more times that I care to. Listen closely because I won’t say this again. You more than anyone else knew that what they did to Alex was only the beginning. They wouldn’t have stopped until they got what they wanted. Should I have stood aside and

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handed over my sister? My wife? My unborn son? You understand that there was much at stake. Before you decided to go on your little suicide mission, there was a plan in place, one that had taken me weeks to set up and a significant amount of money.” Mishca ran a hand through his hair. “The contract was fulfilled, you’re alive, and the Organization is no more.” “Yeah,” Luka said, remembering suddenly all he had gone through at that compound. “But at what cost?” They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, one that had them both looking in that direction. “Mishca,” Lauren called as she opened the door. “Sacha has been acting fussy today. Can you—” Lauren had been too busy trying to console her squirming baby to notice Luka’s presence, but when she did, the utter relief on her face almost made him smile.

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Raising his hand, he gave her a salute, one that had never failed to make her laugh, but neither of them found the humor in it now. He could see in her eyes what he must look like, and he wished, as he did a lot lately, that he didn’t care about her either. That way, he wouldn’t care that there was pity in her eyes. “Lauren—” Despite Mishca calling her name, she simply handed him his son and walked over to Luka. When she was close enough to touch him, she threw her arms around him, holding on like she was afraid to let go. His entire body stiffened, not used to a gentle touch after the months he’d spent with the Albanians. Even now, he still expected anyone who came near him to hurt him in some way. She pulled back, tears simmering in her eyes. “Are you okay? You look like you lost a little weight, but we can fix that, right?

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I can cook something for you. I’m better at it now—not a lot though. Do you need something? Is there anything that I can get you?” She was speaking rapidly and even Luka could tell that she was close to breaking down. Despite what he knew, it still baffled him that she cared about him this much. Lauren was kind by nature, but that was no guarantee that he meant something to her. “Careful. I thought we were keeping our relationship a secret? Mish is sitting right over there.” His words might have lacked the edge of humor that he always added, but they made her laugh nonetheless, and this time, he did manage a small smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Lauren, let him breathe.” “But he just got here.” Mishca, ever patient, said, “Yes, but we have a meeting.”

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“Seriously, Mish? He just got here. After everything he’s been through, he deserves a break.” “Lauren…” Rolling her eyes, she let her arms fall to her sides as she took a step away from Luka. “I’m glad you’re home, Luka. Once you’re finished with whatever meeting Mishca has for you, you should come by and see Sacha…after you see Alex, of course.” It was like nothing had changed. Luka knew without a doubt that Lauren had heard every word he’d said back during that fateful day, and yet she stood in front of him and acted like it didn’t matter. He didn’t know what he had expected otherwise. Anger, maybe? Disgust? But there was none of that. “Later.” His first promise of the day, and as she smiled in response, he knew he had made the right choice. ____

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He hadn’t been sure what the meeting Mishca had been referring to was for, but as they arrived at the familiar brownstone that was the home of Clorick, the only person sanctioned by the Bratva to administer tattoos, Luka knew. “You do know what this means, yes?” Mishca asked him as he climbed out of his car, buttoning his jacket as he went. “You can wear…that,” he said gesturing to Luka’s jeans and T-shirt, “on your own time. But on mine, put on a damn suit.” As they were allowed in by a large man who looked like he had done nothing more in his life than lift weights, Luka couldn’t help but think that before now, this was everything that he had never wanted. He was happy as an enforcer. He thrived in it. But now that he was being appointed a Captain…he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

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Clorick had been around for a few generations, longer than most, and was beginning to look it, but everyone, even Luka, treated him with the utmost respect. Luka entered the room, climbing up onto the table as Clorick entered, that familiar black kit tucked beneath his arm. “Never expected to see you on my table,” Clorick said casually as he unlocked his case, pulling his tools free before going back in for a pair of black latex gloves. Luka smirked but didn’t respond immediately as he glanced at the tattoo machine that looked nearly as ancient as Clorick did. While he wouldn’t say he was necessarily a tattoo snob, those that covered the majority of his body were quality work. He didn’t want shoddy stars, even if they held a different meaning. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked, grateful that the old man did at least pull a clean needle out.

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There was probably no one else in the history of the Bratva who would question Clorick who, despite his rather modest life now, had been revered for his viciousness many years ago—not to mention that anyone who was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his talents were happy to just be there. Clorick, who’d heard rumors of Luka, took it in stride, ignoring the question entirely. It was Mishca who, as Pakhan, stood watch with his arms folded across his chest. “Careful. He may put a dick on your knees. I, for one, do not want to have to explain that to anyone.” As the buzz of the machine filled the room, Luka looked back at Mishca, a man he had both grown to respect and care for. Noticing the look, Mishca frowned, pushing off the wall. “Don’t get sentimental on me. Those aren’t just for your protection.”

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No matter how contained Luka’s past had been before, all of his secrets were out now. He knew that while those closest to him could look past what he had done in the past, there would be others who weren’t so accepting. Some would be bold enough to mention it in passing since they could do no more now that he had his stars…but they wouldn’t be as careful around Alex. These stars not only represented his position but also meant exactly what he could do to someone who dared speak against him. And that kind of power…it made him happy. Despite his words, Mishca looked thoughtful for a moment. “She told me, you know. About how you helped her. I’m in your debt.” “Poor choice of words,” Luka said with a smile, still staring up at the ceiling as

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Clorick moved on from his chest to his knees. These would be the worst. “Yes, well…I won’t be regretting them for some time, and while it pains me to say this—you have no fucking idea—I’m sure you’re going to busy for a while.” “Oh?” As Klaus had, Mishca pulled free an envelope, setting it on a chair nearby. “Alex called Lauren and told her she got her first lead role. I figured at least one of us should be there to see it. You have two weeks to do as you please. After, you report to me. The only thing I ask…” Mishca looked surprisingly vulnerable as he got to his feet. “…Bring her home, if only for a while.” When he turned to leave, Luka asked, “Is it true you haven’t spoken to her since that day?” “Two months after she left for Paris, she came back to visit Lauren, only because she begged. I happened to come home early.

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It didn’t matter that I was happy to see her, she wouldn’t even look at me.”

52 ____ Welcome Home Having stared at that board for more than ten minutes in shock, Alex had been too elated to remember that she was still angry with her brother. The first thing she’d done when she had seen her name next to ‘principle’ and her role was to call Lauren. Seconds after her sister-in-law had answered the phone, her excitement had spilled over and she’d shared the good news. Only after she had ended the call did she consider the fact that Lauren would share this news with Mishca.

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Back when she was just a little girl dreaming of making it onto the big stage, he’d promised that he would watch her perform, no matter where she was. She didn’t doubt that. No matter that he knew she wouldn’t want him there, he would be exactly where he said he would, Lauren and Sacha as well. It was too bad that the one person she wanted to see more than anyone else wouldn’t. But that had been two days ago, and since then, she had let her anger go, finally—if only a little—accepting that she couldn’t change anything. Sitting at her vanity, she finished applying the smoky black shadow across her lids, making sure her makeup was as perfect as could be before the start of the show. This was one of the most important days of her life, and while there was plenty of

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nervousness and excitement that came with it, a shred of fear and sadness remained. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that. It was time to perform. But before she did, she reached for her clutch, pulling out the wrapped bundle. Carefully unwrapping the combs inside, she let her fingers drift over the metal teeth a moment before she lifted one, securing it in her hair. At least a part of him would be there with her. Leaving her dressing room, she headed toward the stage, searching for Madame Toulles for her final check. There was a buzz in the air as the other dancers backstage went over last-minute changes, but Alex forced herself to ignore everything around her, centering in on her own heartbeat as she made her way into position.

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As the curtains parted, she took one last calming breath and readied to present herself to the audience. ____ Only after the final number, when she’d finished the last of her spins and she’d carefully landed on her feet with a sweeping bow, did Alex finally register that she was no longer lost in her own world. The applause started immediately, the sound of it making her smile despite herself. The glare of the spotlights made it hard for her to make out anyone in the crowd, just vague shapes and clapping hands. As the curtains were closing, she looked at the front row, squinting, trying to make out as much as she could, but there wasn’t much. At least…she thought she might have saw a flash of blond as someone moved into the aisle.

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More cheering and celebrating awaited her as she headed back toward her dressing room, ready to change into something more comfortable. She smiled graciously, allowing herself this moment of happiness. After a brief chat with Madame Toulles about her costume and the alterations that would need to be made before her next performance, Alex was finally able to slip into her dressing room, breathing a sigh of relief…at least until she caught sight of who was waiting for her. “Should I even ask how you were allowed back here?” she asked as her gaze skipped over her brother to the arrangements of flowers that now littered her vanity. She knew at least one was from him and Lauren, another from her friends, and maybe one from the company, but the other two, she was clueless.

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Mishca got to his feet, smoothing a hand over the front of his suit jacket. “I’m sure you know the answer to that. Besides, you wouldn’t have seen me otherwise.” “Really?” Alex asked dryly. “And why is that?” “You know…I specifically remember asking you to trust me one night, and you promised you would.” “Yeah, well that was before you turned your back on someone I cared about.” Mishca looked thoughtful. “Did I?” Narrowing her eyes on him, Alex asked, “What are you really doing here, Mish? I know you. There’s some ulterior motive.” “Sometimes I hurt the people I love because that’s what’s needed at the time. If—” “When the hell did you start speaking in code, Mish? Just spit it out so I can get

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back to my life and you can get back to being the boss.” “One day you’ll understand that what I did…it wasn’t just for you, but for him too. Maybe you’ll actually forgive me for the pain I caused you, but until then…congratulations. I never doubted that you would be anything less than amazing.” Even with the way she felt toward him, she couldn’t help the small smile that spread on her face. “Thanks, Mish.” He crossed the room, pulling her into a tight hug that she was helpless not to return. She had missed him dearly. Kissing the top of her head, he released her after a moment, his gaze straying to the flowers. “I’ll see you in two weeks.” Frowning as he headed for the door, Alex asked, “What happens in two weeks?” But he merely smiled and slipped out the room.

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Between Mishca and Klaus, she wasn’t sure who was rubbing off on who. For the time being, however, she decided to put their conversation, or lack thereof, to the back of her mind as she undressed, pulling on a pair of loose sweats and a tank top. Her feet practically cried in relief as she unlaced her pointe shoes and gingerly pulled them off, carefully replacing them with shoes that were little more than socks with a hard sole. Packing up her bag, she swung it over her shoulder, but before she exited, she headed over to the flowers, inhaling the delicate perfume that wafted from them. One in particular stole her attention, mainly because it was not a bouquet at all. It was a single flower, an orchid she believed, that had twine carefully wrapped around its stem to a stick that kept it standing tall. The petals were white and satiny, beautiful in its simplicity, but as she peered

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closer, past the delicate folds to the very heart of it, her heart skipped a beat at what she thought she might have seen inside. But…that had to have been a coincidence. What were the odds? Even so, she blinked to make sure that she was seeing properly because, within the sea of white was bursts of yellow and stripes of orange and burnished red, she could have sworn that within the orchid was the face of a tiger. ____ The others she left in her dressing room, but the orchid she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind. The journey back home was far different from how it was normally. Usually, she took the time to reflect and think about her day, but now she couldn’t help but think of everything Mishca had said and what this orchid meant.

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Alex didn’t believe in coincidences, not since she was a little girl, but she just couldn’t bring herself to believe in hope. Hope that Luka was coming back. Whether that was back to New York or back to her, she didn’t know, but she desperately hoped for the latter. Loki whined when she unlocked and opened the door, waiting on the other side, his tail wagging furiously. She scratched behind his ears, dropping her bag on the way as she headed for the kitchen, opening the freezer to grab the small bag of ice she’d stashed there. With another performance just around the corner, it was best she doctored her feet and took an ice bath to keep from pulling anything. It was an hour-long process, and by the time she was finished, she was ready for bed.

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Alex wasn’t sure when she had dozed off, but Loki's whining woke her up. Then his sharp barks got her out of bed. He was sitting at the door, his attention solely on it. Not even when she called his name did he turn to acknowledge her. Then someone knocked. Just two short raps that made her entire body lock up. She knew, without having to see, who was on the other side. Even without the way Loki was acting, she knew. Each step she took closer felt impossibly long as time seemed to slow. She wanted to mentally prepare herself, wanted to think of what her first words were going to be, but rational thought fled her mind. Finally, with a shaking hand, she gripped the door handle, only hesitating a second before pulling the door open wide.

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And there he stood, with one hand in his pocket, the other raised as though prepared to knock again. It felt like her throat was closing up as her eyes scanned over every inch of him, trying to drink in as much as possible. She wanted to verify with her own eyes that it was actually Luka standing in front of her. His hair was cut shorter, his cheekbones were more pronounced as though he had lost some weight, but there was no mistaking the blue eyes and the colorful tattoos. Or the way his gaze softened and his lips turned up into a gentle smile. “Alex.” Hearing her name from his lips after so long… She choked back a sob, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Loki darted past her, launching himself at Luka with all the joy in the world. He nearly knocked him over in the process, but even as he reached to pet

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his most beloved friend, his eyes never left her. He seemed to realize, almost belatedly, that she was too frozen to move, so he came to her instead. He didn’t stop until his scent was surrounding her. He was so close that if she reached out, she could touch him, feel him, and then she thought she would know for sure that this was real. But he took the choice away from her, his hand sliding around the curve of her shoulder until he was cupping her neck, applying slight pressure to propel her forward. And a second later, his lips were on hers, coaxing hers to part, an unspoken promise that made her heart sing. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in this, in him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Breaking away, she took a calming breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

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He cradled her face in his hands, swiping the tears away with his thumbs as he smiled down at her. Once, she had thought she’d experienced the worse kind of pain there was, but seeing him now, this was a different kind of pain. It still didn’t feel good, that pain in her chest, but she didn’t think she had ever been happier. “But…how? I don’t understand. I thought you were—” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the statement. “Klaus.” She jerked in his hold, surprise clouding her face. “He never said anything, not even when I… When was this?” Since the moment he had stepped into the apartment, he’d looked sure of himself, at least until now. “Two months ago.” She pulled away. “Two months? Where have you…wait. You were here, weren’t you?” “Alex—”

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“Was I the only one who didn’t know? I don’t understand.” “There’s a lot you don’t know, and things you don’t understand, some of which only your brother can explain. No, don’t pull away from me,” he added as he grabbed hold of her wrists, preventing her from retreating further. “After Klaus got me out, I left. I told him not to follow me and not even to tell any of you that he had found me. At the time, I hadn’t known everything myself. I didn’t know how you would feel about me after everything, after what I told you. I was afraid of how you would react.” “Luka—” “No, let me finish. As I’ve said before, I wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn’t with me. You’ve found happiness here. You’re living your dream. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze drifting over her face. “But someone—or a few people—helped me

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see that only you could tell me if you didn’t want me in your life. So here I am, hoping that I’m still what you want. And if I am, I promise not to hurt you again. And I promise that there is nothing, nothing, that could make me leave your side again, ever.” Alex was quiet. Her heart swelling so much that she could hardly breathe. She thought about the last six months, the heartache that she felt at Luka being gone …the resentment she felt at Mishca for being the one behind it. Now that he was here, she finally understood what Mishca had been eluding to earlier. And she knew that there was a conversation that needed to be had, but first… “I want you, Luka. I’ve always wanted you.” He laid one of her hands on his chest, right over his heart. “I’m yours.”

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She pulled free of his hold, wrapping her arms around him and held tight. There was still so much to figure out about their lives. Her being here in Paris. His obligations to the Bratva, if he was even still a part of it. But there was one thing she was sure of. They would figure it out together. Looking up at him, she gave him a smile. “I’m never letting you go again, Luka.” “Të dua, Alex.—I love you, Alex.” It was the first time he had ever said the words aloud and she felt them all the way down to her bones. But it wouldn’t be the last. “Je t’aime, Luka—I love you, Luka.”

Epilogue _________ Six months later… “I’ve always been a fan of the jeans, Luka, but this works for you.” From her position on the bed, Alex stared over at Luka as he finished getting dressed, buttoning the last of the six buttons that lined the front of his vest. Unlike her brother, Mishca, who’d worn a three-piece suit since the time he’d turned eighteen, Luka had just traded in his T-shirts and jeans for attire that better suited his new spot in the Volkov Bratva. Six months ago, he’d gone from Bratva enforcer to Captain. It hadn’t been a

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job he’d necessarily wanted, but one he had accepted all the same after he’d returned from Albania, leaving behind a life he had escaped from once before. Since then, he hadn’t spoken much of what had happened to him back there, but that wasn’t very surprising considering Luka wasn’t much of a talker. Finished with his vest, he glanced over his shoulder at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Enjoy it while you can. This won’t last long.” Laughing, she climbed out of the bed, Loki jumping down after her. “Of course, it won’t.” She straightened his tie, smoothing her hands over his front. “You know, it used to scare me, the emptiness I saw in your eyes. I only ever wanted to make you happy, bring you peace no matter what was troubling you.”

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“And you do. More than anyone ever could.” She smiled, touching his cheek. “Thank you for letting me.” His smile was blinding a second before he kissed her. “Is this the part where you say I’m too much to handle?” Laughing, she pushed him away. “Why would I say that?” “You’d be shit out of luck if you did. You’re stuck with me.” She caught his hand, bringing it up to her own chest, laying it over her heart. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Tiger.”

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