Chapter 27
EMBER
I know it now, with every cell of my body, this isn’t Rodion. He plays games, dangerous ones, but they’re just that— games. He teases and torments me and leans into making those fantasies come to life.
But he doesn’t hurt me. He loves to tease me, to play around a bit with the element of fear. But this? This is next level.
This is not a game.
I have to keep my head on straight. I have to stay the course. I can’t lose my shit, not now.
Someone shifts in the front seat. Then his voice, the same one that’s plagued me for years.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Ember.”
Shawn.
My worst fears are confirmed.
His tone is soft, almost coaxing. “I know what you really want, Ember. It’s alright that you’re playing hard to get. I know you really want me; you just haven’t admitted it even to yourself yet.”
My heart thuds painfully. He’s delusional, a fucking psychopath, and I hate him.
“You say you only like these mafia men and dangerous situations in your books,” he continues. The car turns sharply. “But I know the truth. You crave danger. You’re not afraid of it, not at all.” He chuckles. “You kinky little girl.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as bile burns the back of my throat.
“I know you better than he does. He’s not like us.” His voice drops to a dangerous register. I want to scream at him, but I’m gagged and incapable. “He’s playing at being protective. Pretending he didn’t use you to build status when that’s exactly what he did.”
What?
“I see you, Ember. The real you. And you know I love you, even if you’ve disappointed me.”
Tears burn my blindfold. I fight a sob that threatens to break free as I twist my hands and try to find a weak spot.
Does Rodion know I’m gone?
Is he tracking me?
Shawn’s words press on me like the cold, steel edge of a blade to my neck. “You can fight me, but I know the truth. I’m the one who deserves you. Not him.”
My breathing hitches.
No.
My body might tremble, but my heart steadies.
I think back to Rodion’s smirk, the way he’d lift my chin when I got riled up. He let me fight him. He let me push back, gave me agency and free will. He knows how much that matters to me.
Maybe that’s why I love him. I love him.
Here, in the back of Shawn’s car, I see so clearly now it makes my heart ache.
I trust him.
Maybe my book boyfriends offer safety in danger, a place where I can explore but stay in control. The fantasy was never about submission but about trust.
I’m not going to lose him.
I want him to protect me. I want that fierce, sometimes irrational, unapologetic dedication to keeping me safe. Owning me.
I want all of it.
Shawn won’t win. I’ll be sure of it. He won’t.
An engine roars behind us, growing louder.
Oh god, oh please, please be Rodion.
I can still see the lethal flicker of his eyes as he promises brutal retribution to anyone who tries to hurt me.
I’d tie him to a chair and make him watch me ruin you, slow and raw, before I cut out his eyes…
Rodion doesn’t bluff. He gives me all of who he is, the brutal and the beautiful, every ounce of morally gray that I crave in my books right here, in all his Bratva glory, tats and weapons, and the fierce, undying protection of a man who loves me.
You don’t want a gentleman, little queen.
I don’t now, and I never did.
“He’s too late,” Shawn growls in the driver seat. “He can’t have you.”
I twist my wrists harder, feeling my skin burn under the ropes.
Come on. Come on…
The car swerves violently as Shawn tries to lose whoever’s trailing us. I stifle a whimper, completely unable to stop myself from crashing headfirst into the door. Pain radiates along my skull with these stupid restraints holding me tight.
Gunfire explodes behind us. Shawn screams and curses, the car tilting dangerously to the right.
Shawn seems to be fighting for control, but whoever it is, is gaining on us. Something bumps the back of the car.
Has he caught us?
I can imagine exactly what he’s going through right now because I know him. Rodion wants to catch us and punish Shawn, but he doesn’t want to hurt me.
The way Shawn is driving, he might get his wish sooner than later. I’m straining against my wrists when I feel something hit my palm. Is it—I trace it with my fingers and realize it’s the tail end of the restraints he sloppily tied.
I work at the knot and feel a shift of movement. I can do this.
Rodion slipped a knife into a sheath on my thigh. If I can get to it?—
I have to keep my head in the game, have to stay on task here. He won’t notice if I undo my restraints. I shift the fabric of my dress, cursing the layers, when I feel the cold, hard metal of the knife at my thigh.
I swallow hard. Yes. Yes.
Who the fuck am I?
Maybe I am cut out for mafia life.
I’m the wife of a hero.
Slowly, carefully, I move the knife out. It scrapes against my thigh as I pull it out and palm it. Shawn’s swerving and cursing. He hits something hard, and I stifle a scream when I prick my own damn leg with the blade.
He never would suspect I had my own weapon.
With trembling fingers, I slide the knife into my palm and shave at the restraints. I can feel it yielding even as I can’t see. Finally, my wrists swing free. I grab the blindfold at the back of my head and yank it off.
Shawn’s face is a mask of fury as another gunshot rings out. I contemplate stabbing him, actually tearing into someone’s flesh with a weapon, and the thought makes me want to vomit. But I have to get away. Does it make sense to hurt him while he’s driving though? My thoughts go crazy, and I can’t reel them in, no matter how hard I try.
Shawn curses, swerving dangerously close to a guardrail. The SUV scrapes alongside it, sparks flying. Another shot rings out. I hear a pop, and the side of the car immediately swerves. Another gunshot followed by another pop.
He’s here, and he’s shooting out the tires.
The SUV screeches to a stop because he can’t drive it another foot. It slams against the guardrail with a sickening crush.
My ears ring.
Silence .
I sit still, not sure where I can go next, what to do?—
Heavy footsteps.
Measured. Unhurried.
He’s here, and he’s going to enact brutal justice. I tremble and breathe a little more easily even as my belly clenches.
The driver’s side door wrenches open as Shawn tries to flatten himself against the other side of the car. Rodion reaches in and, with his massive, tatted hand, grabs Shawn by the neck. But he doesn’t move him, doesn’t drag him out like I suspect. Instead, he turns to me, eyes blazing into mine.
“Are you hurt, baby?”
I do a quick mental tally and shake my head. “No,” I whisper.
Shawn tries to take advantage of the opportunity and wriggle out of Rodion’s grip, but that is not going to happen.
“Get out.” Rodion’s voice is cold. Lethal.
I’d bury his body and sleep like a fucking baby.
Shawn shifts, reaching for something—a gun, maybe a knife. But Rodion doesn’t hesitate. Two hands on Shawn’s shirt, and he drags him out of the SUV like he’s a rag doll. The sound of bone cracking echoes like thunder.
Shawn’s body crumples against the pavement.
I look wildly about me. We’re on a vacant road at night, illuminated by bright overhead lights. No one’s here. Behind the guardrail is a row of tall pines, a natural barrier.
I can hardly breathe as I see Rodion’s sure, deadly aim. I can’t hear him from here but can gather a mix of Russian and Shawn’s pleas for mercy before Rodion takes one of Shawn’s hands in his and breaks it. I cringe but can’t look away. Shawn screams, writhing, as Rodion pins him to the ground beneath his foot and reaches for his second hand. He yanks it back with brutal efficiency, and Shawn’s cries of terror and pain echo in the night.
Rodion looks to me. I stare at him through cracked glass. Dark. Dangerous. Blazing with a ferocity that calls to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul.
I reach for the handle of the door and try to open it, but the metal’s crumpled, and the door won’t budge. Rodion sees me struggling, takes a look at Shawn, then heads over to me, his gun poised at Shawn. Shawn wriggles away, and in one quick movement, Rodion points his gun at him and pulls the trigger. His kneecap explodes.
I watch. I can’t look away. Shawn screams, a mess of broken bones and blood, but Rodion just pulls the trigger again. His second kneecap explodes.
As he nears me, he calls over his shoulder, “You’d better not fucking die. I am not done with you yet.”
Rodion reaches me, grabs the door, and yanks it hard, but it doesn’t budge. Behind him, Shawn cries like a baby, trying to move his broken body on the ground, blood dripping from his open wounds, but he doesn’t get far.
I climb over the console, fall into the passenger seat, and Rodion pries the door open. I fall into his arms.
“I should kill him now,” he mutters. “But not yet. I want him to suffer, Ember.” His eyes flick back to mine, and he does that thing that I love. His finger under my chin, he holds my gaze. It’s never felt more poignant. I shiver, looking at raw brutality and undying devotion wrapped into one. “Tell me you want this, Ember. Say the word, and this ends.”
My breath caches. I swallow hard, my eyes locked onto his.
“Yes, please.” My voice shakes. “He won’t stop. It will be another woman next. He’s insane, Rodion. A predator. I can’t let him go on.”
Rodion’s smirk is razor-sharp. Terrifying.
Rodion, in real life, makes every book boyfriend I’ve ever met pale in comparison.
Leaning in, his lips brush over my ear.
“He’ll watch first,” he murmurs, his hand already tugging at my hips. “ Then he dies.”
My pulse races, and the blood roars in my veins, adrenaline thrumming. I didn’t know until I was here—until I truly felt this—that I’ve never felt more owned in my life.
His mouth claims mine, bruised and unforgiving. The knife I still hold slips from my hand as his fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. I melt into him, my body arching as heat surges through me.
“Need one minute.” He breathes into my ear. “That son of a bitch is trying to get away. I want him to watch. Come with me, Ember.”
My skin crawls as my pulse ratchets higher. I nod and walk with him, the cold night air biting at my skin. Shawn screams and begs as Rodion yanks him around and ties him with the same restraints he used on me.
“I don’t want to hear your fucking voice,” Rodion says before he gags him and slaps Shawn’s cheek. “There ya go, asshole.”
God, I love him so fucking much. I don’t know what that says about me, but I don’t care.
I want him.
I want him to burn the memory of every painful touch I’ve ever felt from my mind. I want him to sear himself into my memory, to break down every wall I’ve constructed and show me what it means to be well and truly loved. I want him. I want us.
I want it all.
Rodion stalks over to me, and just like that first time I saw him, he’s dripping with lethal Bratva energy. My body sings. My heart soars. When he reaches me, his mouth burns mine with a ferocity that takes my breath away. He grips my ass, and I shift the miles of fabric to hitch my leg up. I love the feel of his hot, strong hand on my thigh.
He lifts me in his arms and carries me to the clearing sheltered beneath the pines. His hot skin on mine warms me despite the cold. Moonlight filters through the trees.
Rodion’s grip tightens around my waist. When his mouth meets mine, everything else false away. His kiss is feral and bruising, the kind that leaves marks.
I feel the rough scrape of his stubble against my skin as his hands grip my ass, pulling me closer.
I lift my leg, sliding the fabric of my dress up, giving him full access to the bare skin of my thigh. He wastes no time, fingers searing into me, teasing until I don’t feel the cold anymore, and I feel the brush of his rough knuckles against the heat between my legs.
I break the kiss, gasping against his lips.
“ Rodion .”
His growl vibrates against my throat as he lifts me effortlessly, cradling me in his arms as if I weigh nothing.
The rough bark of a pine scrapes against my back as he pins me there, his body pressing into mine, his breath hot against my neck. His hands roam, dragging down the straps of my dress until the cool night air hardens my nipples.
He steps back, eyes burning into me as he drinks me in.
“I’ll burn everything before us from your memory,” he rasps, reaching for his belt buckle in one fluid motion. He tugs it from his pants in one pull. “Do you understand me?”
I nod, breathless and aching.
His mouth trails down my collarbone, teeth grazing, biting, sucking until I’m dizzy with need and panting for him. His fingers push aside the fabric pooling at my hips, where I’m already wet and waiting.
“You’re so fucking ready for me,” he whispers, voice thick with approval. His thumb circles my clit slowly, torturing me.
“Rodion.” I moan.
He gives me a wicked grin full of promises.
“Beg for me, little queen.”
I can’t stop the moan that slips free as his fingers slide inside me, curling just right. His other hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me into another fierce kiss.
I come apart for him, trembling, gasping his name, but he doesn’t stop. I feel the hot, hard press of his cock against my legs.
“Tell me you want this.” His voice is rough, barely hanging onto control.
“I want this, Rodion. I want you. All of you.”
Pulling back, his eyes meet mine with surprise. He knows as well as I do what that means. Every bit of him, the hardened criminal and wise guy, protector and husband. All of him.
He drives into me in one hard thrust. I arch into him, legs wrapping around his waist as he fills me. I love the way he stretches me to the edge of pleasure and pain.
Rodion doesn’t hold back—he pounds into me, wild and relentless, each thrust pushing me harder against the tree. I’m begging and pleading, wild with need, as we hold each other so tightly we’ll leave marks.
“You’re mine, Ember. My wife. No one else touches you.”
I cling to him, shattered and whole.
“Yours.”
He drives deeper, his hand fisting my hair to tilt my head back so he can kiss the tender skin at my neck.
“I love you,” I whisper. The world and everyone in it has ceased to exist. All that matters is us.
Pleasure explodes in my veins, hot and relentless, as he comes inside me. I gasp for air, gripping him, everything around narrowed to just the two of us.
“I love you,” I repeat as his hot seed spills into me, and I pant through the aftershocks of bliss. “I love you.”
Rodion growls against my skin, his lips tracing down my neck as if committing me to memory. I hold onto him, the heat of his body against mine a shield. The cool night air barely touches us.
His thumb brushes along my cheek, tender in a way only I ever see.
“Say it again,” he whispers, his voice raw.
I cup his face, stubble scraping my hand. “I love you.”
Rodion closes his eyes for a brief second, exhaling like the words loosen something inside him.
“You’re mine now, Ember. No running.”
I smile at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
His lips quirk in the boyish smirk I’ve come to crave before he looks behind him.
He tightens his arms around me, shielding me from the sight. But I can’t turn away.
This is me. This is us.
“You know what I have to do.”
I swallow hard and whisper, “Yeah, I do. Bury his body and sleep like a fucking baby.”
He kisses me, hard and passionate, a silent declaration of solidarity.
Rodion presses a kiss to my forehead before slipping his jacket over my shoulders. “Shh, baby. This is almost over.”
He steps back toward Shawn, who groans to himself.
“I told you once,” Rodion says in a low growl. Deadly. “You’d regret laying hands on her, didn’t I? I told you to leave her alone. I told you I never wanted to see you near her again. Didn’t I?”
Shawn begs, his eyes wide with terror, but Rodion doesn’t care.
Neither do I.
Rodion’s gun presses to Shawn’s temple before he looks my way. I meet his gaze, steady and sure. This isn’t just vengeance. It’s cleansing. It’s retribution. It’s ensuring no one—not me, not another innocent girl—ever gets hurt by this monster again.
Rodion pulls the trigger.
The shot echoes through the night.
I don’t scream. I don’t look away. I need to see that he won’t hurt me or anyone else ever again. I watch Shawn’s body fall to the ground with a thud, his blood saturating the earth around him.
When Rodion finally stands, it’s with the slow deliberation of a man who’s made peace with his choices.
I love him for that.
I pull his jacket tighter around myself. It’s warm, and it smells like him. It feels like a symbol of Rodion as my shield.
He makes phone calls before he returns to me and gathers me in his arms.
“Are you ready to go back to the gala?”
I stare at him in surprise but think it over. I swallow hard.
“Let me change into something a bit more comfortable?”
He smirks in the darkness.