Chapter 47
DROGO
The car hums through London's underbelly, rain-slick streets blurring into gray nothing as Alexei drives in silence.
The quiet gives me space to think, to process Klaus's voice still echoing in my head from that phone call—proud of you, become what I knew you could be.
Proud, like a father praising a son for his first kill, like this is something to celebrate rather than mourn.
I flex my hand on the leather seat, feeling my knuckles throb where the skin has split raw and red.
Dried blood flakes off when I curl my fingers, evidence of what I had to do to Mikhail, the accountant who thought he could steal from Klaus and get away with it.
He wasn't talking at first—stubborn prick tied to that warehouse chair with his lips sealed tighter than a vault—but one punch cracked his jaw, two more loosened his teeth, and by the fifth he was spilling everything.
Hidden accounts, laundered routes, the five million he'd skimmed thinking Klaus was too sick to notice.
He talked eventually. They always do.
My phone buzzes with a text from Viktor: Shipments secured.
All three crates accounted for. Estonian guns clean.
Good—collected without a hitch, no customs snags, no rival intercepts.
One less fire to stamp out today. But time is bleeding away fast, and Klaus is stronger now, his remission buying him months or maybe years.
If I don't climb these ranks soon, get close enough to drive a blade through his heart, he'll sniff out my play and turn the tables, and then he'll come for her.
Alena. Her face flashes in my mind—pale skin, dark hair, that fire in her eyes when she slapped me last night. You left me. I did leave her, but only to become this, to become the monster with red knuckles and blood under his nails who can protect her from worse monsters.
To kill Klaus, I need loyalty—not the surface kind that cracks under pressure, but the bone-deep shit that holds when everything goes to hell.
The men around me like Konstantin, Alexei, and Viktor are Klaus's first, but I need to know who bends, who breaks, who might flip to me when the time comes.
I need to test them carefully without tipping my hand.
I stare out the window as city lights smear in the rain, my mind already planning the tests I'll run, the loyalty I'll forge or break. Alena is waiting at home, safe for now, but Klaus's pride in me is my window, my opportunity. I text Konstantin: Meet me at the docks. Alone. We need to talk.
The climb starts now, one test at a time.
· · ·
The house is dark when I slip inside, silent in the way I like it.
The new couch sits in the living room—deep charcoal velvet, exactly the one she'd been eyeing in that catalogue for months—and the dining table is sleek black oak with no trace of where that prick Oliver once sat.
Good. No reminders of him, no ghosts of his presence to haunt this space.
I climb the stairs slowly, unbuttoning my shirt as I go, blood still under my nails from Mikhail's face though the knuckles have stopped bleeding.
The shirt hits the floor outside the bedroom door, and I push it open quietly to find her there—Alena, curled in the middle of the bed with her hair spilled across my pillow like ink on snow, breathing soft and steady, peaceful in a way the world never lets her be when she's awake.
I stand over her for a long moment just watching, and this—this right here is the life I want. Coming home to her every single night, no more cameras from three houses down, no more pretending I'm somewhere else while she breaks alone. Just this. Just us.
I strip off my trousers and head to the bathroom where hot water hits my skin, washing away warehouse grime and gun oil and the faint metallic scent of someone else's blood.
I close my eyes under the spray and let myself imagine it—every day ending like this, her waiting, me crawling into bed beside her, no ghosts and no Klaus, just us building a life together.
I step out with a towel low on my hips, water still dripping down my chest, and sit on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flutter open slowly, finding me in the darkness.
"You're here," she whispers, voice thick with sleep.
"Yes, babe." I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, soft and lingering. "It's late. Sleep."
But her hand slides under the towel without warning, fingers wrapping around my cock like they belong there, and I'm instantly hard under her touch.
"Damn…" I groan as she starts stroking me slowly and surely, her thumb sweeping over the head in a way that makes my hips jerk involuntarily.
"I loved the couch," she whispers, and I can hear the smile in her voice even in the darkness.
I smile and tug her old t-shirt—my old t-shirt, actually—up and off in one smooth motion, watching her bare breasts spill free. "Oh, so you like it?" I murmur, leaning down to take one nipple in my mouth and sucking hard enough to make her gasp. "Had no idea you were paying attention."
She arches into my mouth with a soft moan, then pushes me back just enough to slide down the bed. Before I can process what she's doing, her mouth closes over the head of my cock and I gasp sharply, my hand flying to her hair.
"Fuck!" The word tears out of me as pure heaven crashes through every nerve.
She takes me deeper—half my length is all that will fit, it never has fit all the way—but the heat and the wet and the way her tongue swirls around the head makes my vision blur.
My hand fists in her hair, not guiding or controlling, just holding on for dear life while she works me with her mouth.
She takes her time, sucking and licking with deliberate slowness, her hand stroking what won't fit in her mouth, and I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine. "I'm close, babe," I warn, my voice coming out rough and strained. "If you don't want me to—"
She stops, pulling off slowly with her lips glistening, and I open my eyes in shock to see her smirking at me.
She slides her panties down her legs in one fluid motion, climbs over me, and straddles my hips.
Then she lowers herself onto my cock in one smooth, torturous slide that makes my head fall back against the pillow.
"Then come," she whispers when she's fully seated with her walls clenching around me.
I lose whatever control I had left. My hand slides into her hair while the other wraps around her throat—firm and possessive but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to hold her exactly where I want her. I thrust up hard and deep, setting a relentless rhythm that makes her cry out.
"Drogo—" she gasps, and I thrust harder.
"I want you ruined tomorrow," I growl against her neck. "Legs shaking. Unable to walk straight. Marked inside and out as mine."
She rides me frantically, her hips rolling and grinding, taking me deeper with every movement. I can feel her getting wetter, can hear the obscene sound of our bodies meeting, can see the way her face contorts with pleasure as she gets closer to the edge.
I thrust up to meet her movements, changing the angle slightly until she screams and her nails rake down my back hard enough to draw blood. "There!" she cries. "Right there—don't stop—"
I don't stop. I keep hitting that spot over and over, my hands gripping her hips now to guide her movements, to control the pace, to drive her higher until she's trembling and gasping and right on the edge.
"Come for me," I command, and she does—her whole body locking as she comes hard, pulsing around my cock so tight it's almost painful. She screams my name, and the sound of it sends pleasure shooting down my spine.
"I'm not done," I growl, and before she can catch her breath I roll her onto her back and lift one of her legs over my shoulder. The new angle lets me drive even deeper, and she gasps at the intensity of it.
I watch her face as I pound into her—eyes half-lidded, mouth open in silent cries, completely lost in the sensation. She's so beautiful like this, wrecked and wanting, giving herself over to me completely.
"Come for me again," I demand, reaching between us to circle her clit with my thumb.
She shatters, clenching around me so tight I see stars, her body arching off the bed as another orgasm rips through her. Before she's even finished, I flip her over and pull her on top of me again, slamming up into her with renewed intensity.
She's soaked—absolutely drenched—and I can feel the wetness spreading beneath us, making the mattress cold and wet. The sound of me sliding into her is loud and obscene, filling the room along with her gasps and my groans.
My cock barely fits even now, still a fight to push all the way in, still perfect in every way. Her eyes flutter shut and her body goes limp for just a heartbeat—almost unconscious from the overwhelming intensity—and panic slices through the pleasure haze.
"Alena!" I freeze completely, cupping her face with both hands.
Her eyes snap open immediately. "Damn, don't stop!"
"You almost—"
"Harder!" she demands, and I see the wildness in her eyes, the need that matches my own.
Beast. My beautiful beast. I give her exactly what she's asking for—harder, deeper, faster, until she's screaming and I'm groaning and we're both completely lost in it.
She comes again and this time she's squirting, soaking my thighs and the sheets beneath us. I pull out just long enough to feel it hit me, then slam back in and keep going.
My hand wraps around her throat again—tight enough that I can feel her pulse racing frantically under my fingers. She pulls me deeper with her legs wrapped around my waist, and I go balls deep, as far as I can possibly get, claiming every inch of her.
And then I come—hard and endless, filling her completely, marking her inside as mine while I groan her name against her neck. "Damn, babe…"
I collapse forward with my head on her chest, feeling her heart thundering against her ribs, matching the frantic pace of my own. We lie there for long moments while our breathing slowly returns to normal, neither of us willing or able to move.
She kisses the top of my head softly, her fingers running through my damp hair. "I love you," she whispers.
My heart skips, stutters, stops completely for a beat. I lift my head to meet her eyes, seeing everything I feel reflected back at me in her gaze.
"I love you more," I whisper back.
She smiles—small and real and absolutely devastating. "You are my oxygen," I add, meaning every word with everything I am.
She pulls me down and kisses me slow and deep, pouring everything she can't say into the kiss. We fall sideways onto the bed, still connected, and I wrap around her completely with my arms tight and our legs tangled together.
· · ·
We lie there in the aftermath, our breathing finally settling into something resembling normal, and a thought occurs to me that makes me smile against her hair.
"You're not on any pills, babe," I say, letting the words hang between us.
She laughs—a beautiful sound that rumbles through her chest against mine. "Do you think it's that easy?" she asks, amusement clear in her voice.
I smile wider and press a kiss to her belly, right where a baby might grow someday. "Then I'll try harder," I murmur against her skin.
She laughs again, the sound softer this time, more tender. I move back up and take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking slowly and gently, just because I can, just because she's here and she's mine and I never want to stop touching her.
Her hand comes up to hold my head there, fingers threading through my hair as her eyes drift closed. I can feel her body relaxing beneath me, sleep starting to pull her under, but she keeps me exactly where I am with that gentle pressure of her hand.
Minutes pass in comfortable silence while I continue sucking lazily at her breast, and I feel my own eyes growing heavy.
The exhaustion of the day finally catches up with me—Mikhail's interrogation, the shipments, the constant vigilance required to stay alive in Klaus's world—and it all fades away into nothing compared to this moment.
Alena's breathing deepens and evens out as she drifts into sleep, but her hand remains in my hair, holding me close even in unconsciousness. I close my eyes and let myself sink into the warmth and safety of her embrace, my mouth still on her breast, her arms wrapped around me protectively.
This is where I belong. Not in warehouses with bloodied knuckles, not on docks counting illegal shipments, not climbing ranks in a criminal empire I never wanted to be part of. Here. With her. Always with her.
Sleep takes me gently while she holds me, and for the first time in two years, I feel completely at peace.