The fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead, casting a pale, sterile glow over the small windowless room. The air is thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic, mingling with something metallic.


    My sneakers scuff against the tile as Officer Reyes leads me past a row of empty beds to the farthest one, where my brother lies motionless.


    I inhale sharply. God.


    Nate looks like someone took a bat to his face. His right eye is swollen shut, the skin around it an angry, mottled purple. His cheek is split, stitched haphazardly by whoever worked on him. There’s a cut on his lip, dried blood at the corner of his mouth, and bruises blooming along his exposed arms, creeping beneath the pale blue nket covering his torso. His breathing is shallow, but steady—the only sound in the otherwise silent room.


    He doesn’t see me at first. His good eye is barely open, gazing nkly at the ceiling, while his fingers twitch slightly where they rest on the nket.


    Reyes clears his throat as I move in closer, catching Nate’s attention. His head jerks in our direction, and when he winces, my features twist with his pain.


    As soon as he finds me standing there, his chest rises heavily.


    “Shit,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Emilia?—”


    I should probably tell him to call me Tessa from now on. Then again, if he finds out what I’ve got nned, he’d shoot it down.


    He sighs heavily, grimacing as the movement pulls at whatever pain is throbbing through his body. “You shouldn’t be here.”


    “And you shouldn’t look like someone used you for batting practice, but here we are.”


    “I’ll give you two a few, but make it quick.” Reyes steps out of the room, leaving us alone.


    Nate’s jaw clenches and he looks away, shifting against the pillow as if he can hide from me. As if I haven’t seen every one of his wounds already.


    “I’m fine.”


    I snort. “Yeah, you look great, Nate. Really thriving in here.”


    His fingers flex against the nket, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his expression. Something like shame. It makes my throat tighten because I know my big brother. He hates this. Hates that I’m seeing him like this. That I’m seeing him weak.


    He’s always been my protector, my shield against the world. And now he’s stuck behind bars and I’m the one trying to pull him back to his feet.


    He doesn’t meet my eyes when he speaks. “I told you not toe to the prison.”


    “And when have I ever listened?”


    He’s been refusing to see me thest few times, but I didn’t give him a choice this time around.


    I force my tone to stay light, but it’s a struggle. Because beneath the thin veil of sarcasm I always wear like armor, there’s a deep, gnawing fear that won’t let go—that maybe, just maybe, I won’t be able to set him free.


    “You think I was just gonna sit around and wait for you to get the crap beaten out of you again? This is two times too many.”


    He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Let thew handle this, Em. Don’t do anything stupid.”


    I stiffen. “That’s riching from you. Thew’s what got you here in the first ce.”


    He finally looks at me, his one open eye sharp despite the pain weighing down his features. “You really think I won’t get out of here?”


    His words slice through me.


    No…not without proof.


    But I don’t say that out loud. And it hurts. It physically hurts to see him here.


    I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Of course you will, but I won’t sit around and do nothing to help you.”


    Nate’s a cop. A damn good cop. There’s no way in hell he killed his partner, the man he trusted with his life for over five years, like the prosecutor wants everyone to believe.


    But the evidence says otherwise. And now he’s rotting in a prison cell, waiting for a trial that shouldn’t even be happening.


    “I know you,” I say, softer now. “You would never do something like this. Never.”


    His gaze flickers, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Then let me prove it the right way. Through the system.”


    Iugh, but it’s hollow. Bitter. “The system’s already failed you.”


    His eyes narrow slightly. “Emilia?—”


    “Have you met me?” I cut him off with a smirk. “Don’t waste your breath.”


    His silence is answer enough. A muscle in his jaw tics, but he doesn’t argue. Because we both know I won’t back down. Not from this. Not from him. I owe him too much.


    Being older, Nate was lucky enough to escape the hell we grew up in, running away at seventeen and making a life without me. I was only ten. There was nothing he could do to help me.


    But when I turned fourteen, I called him, afraid that Mom’s dealer was going to hurt me. He came over, beat the bastard half to death, and took me to live with him. He never hesitated. Never looked back.


    And now it’s my turn. I will get him out. No matter what it takes.


    I sink onto the chair beside his bed. “I have a n.”


    Nate exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Do I want to know?”


    “Probably not.”


    His fingers twitch against the nket again, and I see it: that glint of worry in his one good eye. He knows me. Knows what I’m capable of. What I’m willing to do.


    He doesn’t ask for details, but I see the protest on his face anyway. See the way his lips press into a thin line.


    “This isn’t your fight,” he says.


    My chest tightens. “Like hell it isn’t.”


    He sighs, long and slow. “I don’t need your heroics.”


    “Well, tough shit.” A faint smile tugs at my lips. “You’re getting them anyway.”


    His gaze holds mine for a long moment. And maybe it’s the exhaustion or the pain or just the years we’ve spent holding each other up, but he finally nods.


    It’s slight. Barely there. But I see it: a small surrender.


    “Don’t get yourself killed, you hear me? And I swear, whatever n you have, it better not involve the Marinovs.”


    What he doesn’t know won’t kill him…


    I reach for his hand, squeezing lightly. He squeezes back, just as he did when we were kids, hiding in a locked bedroom while our mother raged on the other side of the door.


    “I’ll fix this, Nate,” I whisper. “I swear.”


    His fingers tighten around mine, but he doesn’t say what we’re both thinking.


    I’m in way over my head. I’m about to make a deal with the devil himself.


    But Konstantin is my only way to save him.


    The only problem is…I don’t know who I’ll be once it’s over.


    Or if I’ll even make it out alive.<hr>


    KONSTANTIN


    Veronika drops the stack of applications onto my desk with a dramatic flourish, like she’s just handed me something precious instead of a pile of paperwork I couldn’t give less of a damn about.


    “So, who was that girl leaving your office yesterday?” she asks, sinking into the chair across from me like she owns the ce.


    I don’t look up from the file I’m skimming. “Someone who will never work for me.”


    Sheughs, and my jaw twitches. I flick my gaze up, already irritated.


    “What?” I snap, knowing whatever she’s about to say will make me regret this conversation.


    “Nothing.” She throws her hands in the air, all mock innocence. “It’s just…” Her lips press as she fights back a smirk.


    “Veronika,” I say slowly, voice edged with warning. “I don’t have time for your nonsense. Say what you want to say, then leave.”


    “You’re always so pleasant.” She sighs dramatically, like dealing with me is an insufferable burden. “If you keep up with this moody attitude, you’ll die alone.”


    I finally set the file down and level her with a stare. “That’s the point.”


    Her eyes roll so hard, I half-expect her to tip out of the chair. She’s worked for me long enough to know how far she can push before she steps into dangerous territory. It’s been five years, and somehow she’s still breathing. Impressive.


    “It’s all fun now, being single and fucking withoutmitment, but when you’re pushing seventy, you’re gonna want to cuddle up to a good woman.”


    I let out a stoicugh. “You assume I’ll be alive by then. Even sitting here right now is a miracle, wouldn’t you say?”


    She exhales, shaking her head like I’m some lost cause. “You’re impossible. But that girl, whoever she was, the one Mira said you rejected… I saw the way you acted after she walked out of your office. You wanted her.”


    Of course she already knows all about the girl. She was just asking me to see what I’d say. I sometimes forget how cunning she is.


    My fingers tighten around the pen in my hand. “Veronika, how about you stop talking before I fire you?”


    “Please.” She rises to her feet, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You’re never going to fire me.”


    I arch a brow. “You underestimate me.”


    She winks, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. “Believe me, I never underestimate you. I just know you won’t.”


    With that, she struts out of my office, closing the door behind her. I stare at it for a long moment, willing her words away.


    But they don’t go anywhere. Because she’s right. Tessa has been on my mind since the moment she walked out of my office, and that pisses me off more than anything.


    I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. This isn’t like me. A woman gets under my skin, I fuck her, then she ceases to exist. That’s the natural order of things.


    But Tessa? She’s lingering. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had my fill. Maybe after I take her, this madness will end.


    I pick up my phone, scrolling until I find her social media profile. It’s new, only a few months old. Strange. Most women her age have years’ worth of pictures and overshared moments. But not her. Maybe she’s like me and doesn’t like to have her business sttered everywhere. Smart girl.


    She hasn’t posted anything new for a few days. A handful of pictures of her smiling—bright, warm, genuine.


    That smile does something to me. Something unsettling, something I don’t like.


    My fingers hover over the screen. I could find her right now. See where she is. Who she’s with or who she’s screwing.


    The thought makes something sharp and possessive coil in my chest.


    I could break into her ce. Take a look inside when she’s not home. See how she lives. What she reads, what she drinks, what toys she uses to pleasure herself. Maybe I could wait until she gets home, then fuck her. Maybe then I’d get her out of my system and purge this fascination once and for all.


    But that would be too easy. Too predictable.


    If she really wants the job, if she’s resilient enough, she’lle back. And when she does, I’ll decide what to do with her and how to use her for my own satisfaction.


    This isn’t about love. Veronika doesn’t know me if she thinks I’d ever seek it. I crave control. Discipline.


    But love? Love is a weakness. Love gets you killed. My father taught me that lesson early, and I never forgot it. Love is nothing but a noose, and I have no intention of slipping it around my neck.


    Yet as I sit here, my phone still open to her profile, I can’t help but wonder.


    What the hell is it about her that makes me want to ignore every rule I’ve ever set for myself?