Chapter 6 — Nial
All she had to do was ask for help, but she didn’t. Instead, she chose pride, and it almost got her killed. Even in the face of death, this woman refused to yield to my authority. She knew one word from me would have saved her, yet she chose death.
Interesting.
I sat on a wooden chair in the room, eyes fixed on her motionless body sprawled across the floor. My legs were crossed, my fingers tapping quietly against the armrest. Blood pooled beneath her, staining her dress and her golden-brown hair.
A small smirk played on my lips as I watched, waiting in silence for the moment of truth. As time passed, my gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail. The faint freckles on her nose, the curves on her chest, and the delicate shape of her lips.
She looked so innocent, harmless, and quite fragile. There was nothing tough about this motionless body; all I saw was vulnerability at its peak. Although a part of me wished she’d asked for help, I was glad she didn’t. If she had, I wouldn’t have been so entertained by this sight.
I glanced at my watch, muttering, “Any minute now.”
That’s when it happened—she finally came to with a sharp gasp, jolting upright. She met my eyes, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“There you are,” I said, my voice smooth and gentle. “I was beginning to think you’d transcended to the other side.”
She stared at me, puzzled, eyes wide with bewilderment. It was as though her brain had yet to process what had happened. She glanced around, shaking as she saw the blood on the floor and stains on her hands.
Her lips trembled as she spotted the body on the ground behind her, drowning in the pool of his blood. It was her attacker’s corpse with a hole in the head.
That’s when it clicked, and her eyes widened at the realization. She tilted her head toward me, anger flickering in her gaze. “You son of a bitch.”
“Whoa, language,” I said calmly, retaining my crooked smirk. “That’s no way to speak to the man who saved your life.”
“Oh, please!” She struggled to her feet, fuming as blood dropped from her palms. “You shot him only after he almost choked me to death!” The fury in her tone was palpable.
I liked it.
“I never said I shot him.”
“It doesn’t matter who did!” she snapped. “You stood there and did nothing while that maniac tried to kill me!”
“What’re you so pissed about? I thought you were the hero and I was the villain.”
Her scowl deepened, infuriated by my calmness and the smirk on my lips. “I could’ve died,” she said.
“And whose fault would that have been?” I asked, my eyes never leaving her. “You interfered in something you didn’t understand, and it almost got you killed.” I paused for a second. “Just like you interfered in my business, and it landed you here.”
She locked her jaw, seething in silence.
“It appears you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble.”
She hesitated, her chest heaving as she glared at me. “You’re a monster.”
My lips twisted into an even more crooked smirk. “That’s not news, little lawyer.” I glanced at the corpse behind her. “He knew that, and that’s why he chose to kill himself rather than get captured again.”
Her breath hitched when I rose from my chair and began walking toward her with slow, measured steps.
“That was a smart move,” I continued. “I intended to skin the bastard alive before sending him to hell. He chose suicide because he was aware of what fate awaited him if I got hold of him again. One worse than death. One so cruel the devil would weep.”
She struggled to mask her fear as I halted before her with a hand in my pocket. Her eyes were glassy, and in their depths was a flicker of horror. She tried hiding it behind a frown, but I could see right through her mask.
The girl was afraid.
At last, I saw what I’d been looking for this whole time, and it was fuckin’ satisfying.
“Don’t forget.” I leaned in, whispering in her face, “The only reason you’re still breathing is because I allow it.”
She swallowed hard and said nothing.
“You’re my prisoner,” I added, wearing a blank expression. “Remember that next time you’re running your mouth.”
The air was thick with tension, a mix of my superiority and her terror. She knew I was too dangerous to mess with. And although she was terrified of me at the moment, a part of me couldn’t help but think her fear was fleeting.
She wasn’t the kind to cower at anyone’s feet; her stubbornness and defiance wouldn’t let her. That said, it was only a matter of time before she spoke out of line again.
Without a word, she turned around and left the room, her shirt soaked in another man’s blood. Her feet pounded against the floor as she headed back to her cell, cursing under her breath.
I’d asked the men not to lock her cell so she could wander the premises and get some fresh air. Boris thought it was a bad idea, that she might try something silly. But I knew she wouldn’t, because the place was a fortress and escape was impossible.
I stood there, towering over the corpse with a small grin tugging at my mouth. That conversation, no matter how short, stirred up something in me. Something beyond fascination and intrigue.
Boris walked inside and halted before me. “That girl is trouble, Boss,” he said, his voice low and deep.
I paused, recalling how the frown on her face did little to mar her beauty. “I know,” I replied. With that, I walked out of the room. “Clean up this mess, will you?”
He nodded, his eyes darting to the corpse sprawled across the floor.
***
I sat at the head of the table that dominated the room, its polished surface reflecting the low amber light above. The air was thick with smoke and expensive liquor as serious-faced men sat along both sides of the table.
These were some of the Bratva elites: lieutenants, strategists, financiers, and logisticians. We were discussing territorial disputes with the Italians and how to solve them.
Each one of these men was actively involved—raising suggestions, agreeing, and disagreeing with opinions that didn’t sit well with them. Some suggested we go to war with our enemies, and others thought a more diplomatic approach was better.
I, on the other hand, was lost. I stopped listening about ten minutes ago and had given in to the thoughts that flooded my mind. Images of my little prisoner occupied my head, keeping me distracted from the task at hand.
No matter how hard I tried to focus, I simply couldn’t. And that infuriated me as much as it intrigued me. No woman had ever occupied so much space in my mind for more than ten minutes. Yet this crazy devil had exceeded the record.
Her face seemed etched into my brain. The sound of her voice wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. I almost smiled just recalling how she confronted me for not saving her from that maniac. Almost.
In her little time with me, she’d crossed lines that no one dared to, broken rules punishable by death. Yet she was still breathing. Considering the gravity of her situation, she was supposed to be dead already.
Knowing the Bratva, it was only a matter of time before they asked for her head on a plate.
“Nial….” A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
It was Demyen, one of the oldest men in the council of elders. Short. Portly. Gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard.
“Are you still with us, son?” He met my gaze, his expression as blank as always.
I paused, looking right at him before giving a subtle nod.
“I was asking about the girl,” he added, “the reporter you captured.”
“Lawyer,” I corrected him.
“She can be the Queen of England for all I care,” Ivan chipped in, his voice thick with a Russian accent. “She was caught investigating our business. Why is she still alive?”
I frowned at his tone. “Because I allowed it.”
His brows furrowed together, displeased by my response.
Ivan had always liked to challenge my authority because he believed he was better than me. However, I was in no competition with anyone, and I never backed down from a fight.
“Tell me, Ivan.” I met his gaze. “Do you have a problem with the girl breathing God’s air?”
“I have a problem with a man who knows what to do and refuses to do it.”
Silence.
The tension in the air was growing heavier by the second. It was as though the walls held their breath in anticipation of what might happen next.
“Knock it off, you two,” Demyen said, his intervention calming the rising storm. He turned to me and asked, “How much does she know about the operation?”
I looked at him. “She’s a contained asset. Not an active threat.”
“It still doesn’t change the fact that she stuck her fuckin’ nose into our business,” Ivan added, his tone laced with disdain. “We shouldn’t even be having this conversation because she should’ve been dead already.”
“If you’re so keen on killing her, why don’t you invade my compound and get it over with? See what happens,” I replied, leaning back in my chair.
He locked his jaw. “Are you threatening me, Tarasov?” His hand shifted toward the pistol in his holster.
“I’m merely challenging you to man up and spring into action,” I said, staring right at him. “Boris, as soon as his hand touches that gun, puts a bullet in his head.”
Standing behind me, Boris’s response was a low growl.
The room fell silent, and Ivan couldn’t speak another word. Everyone knew how fast and deadly the One-Eyed Demon was—and not even Ivan’s lieutenant was stupid enough to react. One wrong move and he’d be waking up in hell. He and his boss.
“That, my friend,” I said to the prick, “is a threat.”
He swallowed hard, both hands slowly sliding onto the table.
Now that I had their attention, I sat up, my gaze sweeping across their faces. “Killing the girl is wasteful and unnecessary. Letting her go is not an option either.”
Silence.
I continued, “Therefore, starting now, she’s officially my business. I’ll handle her myself.”
My decision didn’t sit well with them, and I could see the irritation in their faces. But they knew better than to oppose me.
“Does anyone have a problem with that?”
They exchanged glances and murmured amongst themselves for a moment.
Then Demyon turned me. “I trust you know what you’re doing. So, carry on.”
I leaned back in my chair, a smirk tugging at my lips.