Emilia
By midnight, I've drained four of Troskoy's seven accounts.
One hundred and forty-three million dollars, redistributed so thoroughly that even the best forensic accountants won't be able to track it.
My eyes are burning from staring at the small laptop screen, my hands are cramping, and I'm running on coffee and sheer determination.
But I'm winning.
"You need to sleep," Konstantin says from behind me.
"I need to finish this."
"Emilia." His hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs digging into the tense muscles. "You're exhausted. If you make a mistake now, it could compromise everything."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
"Fine." I save my work, close the laptop. "But tomorrow, I finish the last three accounts."
"Tomorrow." He pulls me to my feet, and I sway slightly. "Come on. Bed."
I'm too tired to argue.
He guides me to the bedroom, helps me out of his shirt, and tucks me into bed like I'm something precious.
"Stay," I murmur, already half-asleep.
"I'm not going anywhere."
He climbs in beside me, and I curl into his warmth without thinking about it.
This is dangerous, some distant part of my brain whispers. You're getting attached. You're letting him matter. But I'm too tired to care about danger right now.
I fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hand in my hair.
I dream about my family.
Not the usual nightmare, not the gunfire and blood and my youngest brother's eyes staring at nothing while I gasped for breath on top of his body.
This dream is different.
We're at our old house, the one Troskoy burned down after he killed us. It's summer, and my father is grilling in the backyard while my brothers argue about football. My mother is laughing at something I said.
I'm nineteen, whole, untouched by violence.
Then the scene shifts.
My father is looking at me, his expression serious. "You have to let go, Emilia."
"Let go of what?"
"The anger. The revenge. It's eating you alive."
"He killed you." My voice breaks. "He killed all of you and left me behind. How am I supposed to let that go?"
"By living." My mother steps forward, takes my hands. "You survived for a reason, my darling girl. Not to avenge us. To live the life we couldn't."
"I don't know how."
My youngest brother, Yuri, who was seventeen when he died, grins at me. "You're figuring it out. The scary enforcer guy seems nice."
"Yuri—"
"We're proud of you, sestritsa." My oldest brother, Alex, squeezes my shoulder. "All of us. But you don't have to carry us anymore. We're already gone."
"I'm not ready to let you go."
"You don't have to let us go." My father's voice is gentle. "Just let go of the need to die with us."
I wake with tears on my face and Konstantin's arms around me.
"Bad dream?" he murmurs against my hair.
"No." I turn in his embrace, pressing my face against his chest. "Actually, I think it was a good one."
He doesn't ask for details. Just holds me while I breathe through the emotion lodged in my chest.
When I finally pull back, he's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What?" I ask.
"You're beautiful when you cry."
"That's a very strange compliment."
"It's true." He brushes away the remaining tears with his thumb. "You're beautiful when you're angry too. And when you're hacking. And when you come apart beneath me."
Heat floods through me.
"Konstantin..."
"Tell me what you need."
I don't have to think about the answer. "I need you."
He kisses me slowly, thoroughly, like we have all the time in the world. His hands explore my body with the same focused intensity he brings to everything else, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan.
I surrender to his touch, letting the remnants of the dream fade into the background as Konstantin's lips trail down my neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin there. His hands slide under the sheets, warm and rough against my bare thighs, and I arch into him, craving more.
He knows exactly how to unravel me, his fingers tracing patterns that send shivers racing across my body. I gasp when he finds the heat between my legs, his fingers stroking through my folds before circling my clit with agonizing slowness, building the tension until I'm writhing beneath him.
He shifts his weight, positioning himself between my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
His cock presses against me, hard and insistent, and I reach down to guide him inside, moaning as he fills me inch by inch.
We move together in a rhythm that's both urgent and tender, his thrusts deep and deliberate, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
Sweat slicks our skin as the pace quickens, our breaths mingling in short, desperate pants.
He breaks the kiss to watch my face, his eyes dark with desire, and I feel exposed, seen in a way that terrifies and thrills me.
I clench around him, drawing him deeper, and he responds by grinding harder, his hand slipping between us.
The pleasure builds like a storm, coiling tight in my core until it breaks, crashing over me in waves that leave me trembling and crying out his name.
He follows soon after, his body tensing as he spills inside me with a guttural moan, collapsing against me in a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths. We stay like that, connected and spent, his forehead resting against mine as the aftershocks fade.
In this moment, with him still buried deep, I feel a fragile peace, like maybe revenge isn't the only thing worth fighting for anymore.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and breathing hard.
"I have to tell you something," I say quietly.
"Okay."
"I don't know what happens after we destroy Troskoy. I don't know if the Vasilievs or the Reznikovs will let us walk away. I don't know if we'll survive this."
"I know."
"But I want to try." I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. "Not just the revenge part. The after part. With you."
Konstantin's hand comes up, traces my jaw, my throat, the scar over my heart.
"Then we'll figure it out." His smile is soft, genuine. "Together."
I lean down and kiss him, sealing the promise.
Tomorrow, we'll finish draining Troskoy's accounts. Tomorrow, we'll start phase two of destroying him. But tonight, for just a few more hours, we're just Emilia and Konstantin. Two broken people choosing to heal together.