She sleeps like she didn’t just watch me blow a man’s brains out and barely blink.


    Yet she’s breathing steadily beside me. Like I’m not the nightmare people pray they never meet.


    My arms are still wrapped around her, spooning her from behind, her body warm and soft against mine. My palm rests in the center of her chest, and I feel the slight jerk in her fingers, little signs that she’s dreaming.


    I’ve never held a woman like this. Never stayed after. Never wanted to.


    It’s always been about the act. A release. A transaction.


    But this? This is something else.


    And every day, I discover myself through her. It’s more than a gift. It’s cathartic. I don’t think she realizes how much she’s given me in such a short period of time.


    I bury my nose in her hair, letting her scent ground me. She smells like vani and skin and something like peace,ced with ruin. My chest tightens, the weight of her against me almost too much to bear.


    If she knew I was still awake, knew I was holding her like this, she’d shove me off in a heartbeat. So I keep still. Just a man holding a woman in the dark, pretending the world outside doesn’t want to eat us alive. And for a few minutes, it works.


    Until the floor creaks a close distance from outside of our room.


    Someone is inside the penthouse, and I already know my men stationed outside are dead. I curse myself for not hearing theme in.


    That’s what happens in my world. Enemies lurk everywhere, trying to rip every shred of peace I have.


    My instant worry is for her, the beautiful angel in my bed, and how I can best protect her.


    “Tessa.” I shake her. “Wake up.”


    She stirs, but doesn’t open her eyes.


    “Tessa, wake up and grab the gun in the drawer beside you.”


    Hershes sh open. “What?”


    I tilt my head toward the sound. Another thud.


    “Gun. Now,” I whisper. “Can you shoot?”


    “Yeah.” She blinks quickly, grabbing the handle of the drawer. “My brother taught me.”


    That’s a relief. She needs to know how to protect herself.


    I slide out of bed, silent on my feet, while she gets to her feet, gun in hand, her body tense. Grabbing her hand, I kiss her knuckles, staring deep into her eyes like this may be the veryst time I get to look into them, and the thought rips me apart.


    “Get in the closet.” I point to the walk-in. “And stay quiet.”


    “What the hell is going on?” she breathes as another creakes closer.


    “Someone’se for me.” The Glock is already in my hand. “I don’t want them finding you. Get the hell inside and don’te out, no matter what you see or hear.”


    She hesitates, like she wants to argue.


    “Tessa. Go. Now!” I keep my voice low, wanting the element of surprise.


    She scrambles to her feet, disappearing into the closet on the far side of the room. The soft click of the closet closing is thest thing I register before the bedroom door rattles.


    I wait behind the portioned wall, silent, still. The need to rip apart whoever dared to walk in here is overwhelming. Whoever they are, they won’t leave this room alive. And when I have their bodies, I will send bits and pieces to whoever sent them.


    When the door bursts open, three—no, five—men rush in, all in ck. Ski masks. Gloves.


    Is it the DeLuca crew? Have they really be this stupid?


    I will find out soon and make them all pay.


    With a growl, I squeeze the trigger once from behind the wall, dropping the first man before his boot crosses the threshold. Blood sprays across the white carpet.


    Another dives behind the couch. I roll toward the dresser and fire again, hitting his leg, then crouch down and roll again before firing into his skull.


    A third swings his weapon toward me, and I charge him before he can pull the trigger. My shoulder smashes into his chest, and we hit the floor. He struggles. But he doesn’t stand a chance. I snap his neck and shove him off me, panting through my nose.


    Two more left. Two more bodies standing in the way of me keeping her safe.


    My adrenaline pumps through me, her face appearing before my eyes.


    No one is going to hurt you again.


    One of the guys charges, swinging a de, and we collide. I grapple with him, mming him into the edge of the dresser. My fist connects with his jaw, and he kicks my leg out before we go down together.


    I can’t see thest man.


    Where the fuck is he? The bastard was just here.


    All I can think is that Tessa better still be in that fucking closet.


    Because if she isn’t, I’ll tear apart this entire hotel and everyone in it to find her.


    And I won’t stop there.<hr>


    EMILIA


    My breaths are shallow, though not out of fear. This isn’t my first rodeo, and it won’t be myst.


    Yet here I am, trapped in a closet, sidelined like some helpless kid, while he gets to have all the fun.


    If he knew who I really was, who trained me, what I’ve done…maybe he’d stop treating me like something breakable. But of course that’s not possible.


    Through the thick ts of the door, I catch glimpses of the chaos. Konstantin moves like he was built for war. Outnumbered, but far from outmatched.


    He fights with precision, power, like the odds don’t even matter. Like a man who’s had to w his way out of hell before.


    I’m almost impressed.


    Whoever these men are, they came to take him out, and I need to know why and who they are. Maybe this is that DeLuca crew Gerardo mentioned.


    I don’t care what happens to Konstantin. If he dies, I won’t cry, not that I ever do. But he is entertaining in a maddening, overbearing sort of way. And I do need him alive…at least long enough to get the evidence that can clear Nate.


    Sure, Riley could probably dig it up on her own, even if Konstantin was six feet under. But keeping him alive? That’s just better for my n.


    When one of the men moves behind him, raising a gun, he doesn’t see it. He’s too busy choking the one in front of him.


    Shit.


    Before I can think, I slip out of the closet, gun raised. My feet hit the floor with barely a sound, and I shoot the jackass and the man Konstantin is close to murdering.


    Not bad at all, Emilia.


    Konstantin spins, his eyes wide, and the silence that follows is louder than the chaos.


    Blood is everywhere, the stench of gunpowder hanging thick in the air, but all he sees is me.


    I lower the weapon, my heart pounding from the adrenaline while he stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Like I’ve just grown horns or wings.


    Maybe I should’ve pretended I’m not a good shot, but it’s toote now.


    He walks toward me, that lethal, hungry look in his eyes.


    “You saved my life.” There’s shock in the timbre of his deep, husky voice, like he can’t imagine little old me saving the life of the big, powerful man the rest of the world fears.


    “Seems like I did.” I smirk, trying to brush it off. “I’d ask for a promotion, but you already pay me too damn much.”


    But he’s not smiling. Just keepsing closer until he’s right in front of me. His hand slides into my hair, yanking my head back. And with a growl, he crashes his mouth with mine. No warning or permission. Nothing but primal thirst and hunger. Everything that is Konstantin.


    I should push him away. Remind him of the rule.


    No kissing. No falling for the enemy.


    But I don’t. I kiss him harder, my free hand yanking at his shirt, needing his skin on mine, needing to forget why I should hate him. Because right now, all I want is this. Him. The taste of him. The way his body pushes into mine like a storm I can’t stop.


    The gun slips from my fingers, his falling beside mine with a louder nk, until we are just two bodies, desperate to get lost in each other. My arms wrap around his neck as he lifts me in the air, pressing me into the wall, mouths devouring, teeth shing.


    He groans into our kiss, hands everywhere, tearing at my clothes, shredding the tank top, yanking my shorts down. I fumble with his boxers, shoving them off his hips until I feel him, hot and hard against my stomach.


    Reaching for him, I can barely wrap my fingers around his thick cock, and every inch of me aches to feel all of that inside me.


    He pins me to the wall with the strength of his body while he wraps a hand around my throat, just enough to remind me who’s in control.


    “Moya.” The single possessive word rips out of him as he ms savagely inside me.


    And the world disappears. All that’s left is this. The way he fills me. The way he fucks me like he owns me. Over and over until I don’t recognize myself, until I beg and plead for more. Like I’m his and he’s mine and nothing else matters.


    The blood. The fear. The rules. Gone.


    His eyes lock with mine, his body pounding into me until every sensation within me is because he allows it. Pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave, and my nails w into his shoulders, needing an anchor as my body shudders, my pussy rippling around him like it wants to keep him inside me forever.


    He doesn’t stop. He drives into me harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin pushing me closer, my body winding tight until I’m trembling on the edge again.


    I almost forget he’s not even wearing a condom. A part of me knows I should care, that I should be worried about consequences, but I can’t think of anything I want more right now.


    “Oh God, Konstantin, harder!”


    He gives me everything, unleashing the side of him I knew was there. And I somehowe to envy every woman who has ever had this with him because I want him all to myself.


    His eyes never leave mine as his hips thrust deeper, pounding until the picture on the wall shatters to pieces.


    And as I shatter right along with it, screaming his name, I know this changes everything…yet somehow nothing at all.