Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He only lets himself go when my walls tighten around him and my body starts to shudder involuntarily. His release crashes over him violently, like he’s lost all power. Like he’s surrendering it all to me.
As soon as he’s done, I push him off of me. I don’t look at him as I quickly grab my clothes and dress. What the hell was I thinking? I’ve given him exactly what he wanted.
I don’t look at him as I go to the stairs.
9
VIKTOR
Idon’t try to follow her. Honestly, I’m so shocked in the aftermath of what’s just happened, I physically can’t make myself follow her. I stand there, breathing hard, staring at the spot where, moments before, I had her writhing underneath me.
Fucking hell.
I wasn’t going to let myself go there with her. I knew what would happen if I did, and standing here is just clarifying that truth. I can’t let her go now. Even if I want to. Even if I think it would be safer for her. I never want her out of my sight. I never want a world where she isn’t a moment’s touch away from me again.
I fucked up and I know it. This complicates everything. There’s no coming back from this now that I know how it feels to be inside her, what she sounds like when she’s screaming out in pleasure. It’s a sound that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.
I return to the control room and review the exterior feeds. I turn my phone back on and see that I have at least a dozen calls from Sergei in the last ten minutes. Shit. I shouldn’t have turned my phone off just to prove a point. I hit his contact and wait. He picks up on the first ring.
“Mikhail’s made his move,” he tells me darkly.
“What has he done?” I ask, feeling a sinking feeling in my gut.
“He left the body of one of our men at the docks.”
Damn it.
“Who?” I ask.
“Anton,” he answers. “He handled inventory on the east side for us.”
“Who found the body?”
“One of the foremen. His hands were bound, and his throat was cut. It was a quick and clean kill, but his body was left where someone would easily find it. It was a message.”
“Do something for me,” I say. “Ask around. See if there have been any other murders in Brighton Beach.”
“How did you know?” Sergei asks. “Every family received one. The Moretti family found one of their guys near their warehouse in Red Hook. The body was left exactly the same. And the Kosovs received one outside a club in Williamsburg.”
“Mikhail doesn’t know anything,” I say, relaxing a bit in my chair. “He’s grasping at straws, so he’s retaliating against everyone.”
“You shouldn’t see that as a victory,” he responds almost sternly. “Things are getting bad out here, Viktor. Mikhail is willing to threaten every single family to get his girl back. That display of power is unheard of. He thinks that he can take on the whole borough and win if he has to.”
“Only if we let him,” I say sagely.
“You didn’t want to get involved,” Sergei reminds me. “You said, and I quote, ‘It isn’t our war to fight.’ Now you’ve made it your war and forced all of Brooklyn into this. I don’t want to question your authority—”
“Then don’t,” I cut him off. “I have a lot of respect for you, Sergei, but don’t forget your place. I’m still your pakhan.”
“You are,” Sergei answers tightly. I know he wants to argue with me. I know he wants to berate me, but he won’t.
“Has Mikhail publicly claimed the murders?”
“He has.” Sergei sighs. “They were all left with a note. ‘Return the Bride.’ It’s as clear of a message as any of us will get.”
Bride. The word washes over me like a bucket of ice-cold water. After what just happened in my kitchen, I’d almost forgotten how all of this started. She doesn’t belong to him. She never did, but she especially doesn’t belong to him now. She’s mine.
“How are the smaller families reacting?” I ask, trying to focus on anything else.
“They’re just waiting,” he answers. “Some are pulling back, going underground. There’s a lot of confusion and fear right now. No one knows what happened to Anya Malenkova and they’re obviously not going to claim something they didn’t do. No one is willing to escalate this with Mikhail. They’re waiting for someone to claim the kidnapping so they’ll know what to do next.”
“And if no one does?” I ask.
“You know what Mikhail is capable of,” he answers gruffly. “Should all of Brooklyn be burned down for this girl?”
“I want to increase our security at the docks. Whatever it takes.”
“We already increased before the attack,” he reminds me.
“Then double it,” I say firmly. “Clearly, we didn’t have enough. We’re dealing with an all-out declaration of war here. We can’t be too careful.”