Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“But he doesn’t own you. You know how the Kopolovs work. Has he married you, lass? Even fucking proposed? No. You’re his kept woman. Disposable. His little ghost, who can vanish into vapor.”
“He threatened her with bombs. Here! Right on our estate,” Polina says. Rafail goes still.
Vadka shakes his head. I let him go with a parting glare. “We need to find those before we do anything.”
“I have to find her.”
“You’ve got a tracker on her?” Vadka asks. He narrows his eyes on me.
I nod, watching Polina, and whip out my phone.
“Not on her, but her phone’s location tracking. She probably shut it off.”
But when I pull up the app and watch her location, it’s right there. A blinking light.
“She’s headed southwest.”
Yana storms back in. “Zoya’s alright. Shaken but okay. They’re dead, Rafail. Bullets straight through the temples, propped up to look like they’re still there, guarding. Freaked her the fuck out.”
“Motherfucker.”
Vadka meets my stare. “Maybe she wanted to see what you’d do. Left the record button on. Tracker still active.”
“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Rafail says.
I drag my eyes back to the monitor and watch the last frame again—Cillian’s hand on her shoulder. Familiar.
I will find her.
And when I do?
She’s not fucking walking away again.
Vadka stares at the tracker. “Wait. I know exactly where they are.”
Chapter 32
ANISSA
“Son of a bitch,” Cillian growls, slamming his phone down hard.
I flinch. I need that phone. It’s the only thing keeping his leverage alive, the one threat he’s still clutching to use against the Kopolovs. And if he touches that fucking detonate button…
His jaw tightens, teeth grinding like he’s chewing through bone. Hands strangle the steering wheel.
I wonder if Matvei’s noticed I’m gone yet. I saw the guards’ bodies—slumped and still at the gates—and I wondered how long it would take before someone realized they were dead. Until they realize I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
As I stare at Cillian, I can’t help but wonder… What would’ve happened if I’d stayed with the Irish?
There was a time I would’ve gladly become his. Molded myself into his perfect weapon. But back then, I didn’t know what I needed. Didn’t know who I was. Back then, I just wanted someone to care… to choose me.
My heart aches.
Cillian doesn’t care about me. He never did. He just wants what he was denied.
But I’m going to play along. The more he thinks I’m his soft, compliant little puppet, the easier it’ll be to make him drop his guard.
“What’s the matter?” I ask lightly, all sweet curiosity.
He eyes me sideways, suspicious, and doesn’t answer. But I know exactly what that call was. One of his men inside the Irish ranks. Something went wrong. I just need to guess the right pressure point and twist.
“Something go sideways?” I ask casually. “Wasn’t this supposed to be seamless?”
“You don’t know fuck all about my plan.”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “I knew it had something to do with fucking over the Kopolovs. And I figure you’re trying to find a place where you can stash me without anyone finding us.”
Still nothing, but the silence is telling.
I look out the window, trying to track landmarks. I don’t know this area well, but some of it is vaguely familiar. We haven’t driven far. We’re still within Bratva reach.
That means I have time. That means I have hope.
“Give me a weapon,” I lie smoothly. “I know how to use one.”
He snorts, eyes still on the road, and doesn’t respond.
“This rope’s tight,” I add, wriggling my wrists a little. “Starting to cut circulation.”
His jaw twitches, but still—nothing. Just that brooding silence.
“If you let me—”
“I’ll fucking gag you if you don’t shut up.”
I blink at him, all mock-hurt and wounded pride. “Cillian.” I pout. “I thought you liked me. Wanted me.”
“Watch your fucking tongue, woman.”
He pulls into a dark parking lot. Industrial. Quiet. No cameras that I can see.
“We’re staying here for now,” he says, throwing the car into park. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid. You know what I’ll do.”
I drop my eyes and lower my voice. Soften everything about myself.
Then I look up through my lashes and say in a slow, husky purr, “Yes, sir. I understand.”
His eyes flare, just for a split second.
Bingo.
If he tries to kiss me, I’ll bite him.
His hand grips the back of my neck, not possessive like Matvei, not grounding. No. It’s rough. Cold. Controlling. It doesn’t make me feel wanted. It makes me feel used.
He hauls me out of the car and shoves open a side door.
The place smells like aged wood and old whiskey. Voices murmur beyond a closed door. A bar. It’s crowded, familiar, but not enough for me to know where we are.
My eyes lock on Cillian’s phone tucked tight in his back pocket.
I need him to pull it out, just for a second. And then I need to take it. Everything depends on that.