Chapter 6 – Karik
The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and whiskey as I sat at my desk, cradling a half-empty glass in my hand. The two men across my table couldn’t look me in the eyes. They just stood there, heads bowed in shame.
One had a bandage on his nose, with fresh blood visible beneath. The other was balanced on one foot, his right leg dangling inches above the floor. From what I gathered, the girl had driven a kitchen knife into his boot, pinning his foot to her wooden floor.
The looks on their faces were a mix of embarrassment and anger. If they had the chance right now, they’d rip her to shreds for what she’d done to them. Jaws were locked, and eyes blazed with murderous intent.
I sat there in the quiet of my study, sipping from my glass while admiring her handiwork. These were trained men—murderers, each at least twice her size. Yet she somehow managed to leave permanent marks on their bodies and almost got away.
Interesting.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was some kind of secret government agent, trained in combat. But that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t a trained fighter. She didn’t have any combat skills. The girl acted on sheer survival instinct. She did whatever it took to stay alive.
For that, she’d earned a fraction of my respect. This was the second time she’d proven she wasn’t crippled by fear. Clearly, I’d underestimated her. She was more dangerous than she looked.
“You mean to tell me that she did this to you two,” I began, my gaze shifting between them, “with her bare hands, alone?”
Vlad, the one with the broken nose, swallowed hard and locked his jaw. “We didn’t expect that kind of resistance from her.” He raised his head and finally met my gaze. “You said you wanted her alive. So we held back our punches.”
That’s a reasonable enough explanation.
The door opened, and Sergei walked in, his boots heavy on the floor. “Boss.”
My eyes fell on him.
“It’s done,” he said. “She’s secured in the guest room as you requested.”
Good.
I didn’t want her in a cell or in my basement. Not sure why I thought she deserved better than those places. But perhaps it had something to do with this newfound respect for her fiery spirit.
I looked at the two injured before me and said casually, “You’re dismissed.”
They dematerialized immediately, leaving my lieutenant and me behind.
As the door closed behind them, Sergei met my gaze, his expression blank as usual. “Permission to speak about the girl.”
I reclined in my chair, swirling the glass in my hand. “Go ahead.”
“I think you should tread carefully with this one, boss,” he said. “Something about her feels—”
“Different?” I cut him off.
He paused. “I was going to say dangerous.”
I didn’t respond immediately; instead, I curled my lips into a mischievous smirk.
“Five minutes ago, she raked her fingernails across a man’s face, almost taking out his eye,” he added, a hint of displeasure lacing his tone.
“It’s either she’s tougher than we give her credit for.
Or she’s figured out that we don’t hit women, and she’s weaponizing that fact. Either way, that makes her dangerous.”
“Which of the guest rooms did you lock her up in?” I asked.
“The smallest one. Upstairs. Third door on your left.”
Without another word, I got out of my chair, downed the rest of my whiskey, and headed out. My measured footsteps echoed off the walls as I made my way to her room, one hand in my pocket.
I stood outside her door for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside. She stopped pacing when she spotted me. Her expression darkened, masking the fear flickering behind her gaze.
She was still in her white nightgown, the silk fabric accentuating her soft curves. Her pale skin glowed under the chandelier’s warm light, her eyes shining with a mix of defiance and fear.
She stood on the other side of the bed, fists clenched at her sides as she watched me approach. Her chest rose and fell subtly, her gaze unwavering.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice a bit shaky. “I know you’re the man from the restaurant the other night. But if you’re gonna kidnap me and lock me up here, you might as well tell me who you are.”
I halted at least a foot away from her, intrigued by her spunk. “You’re in no position to ask me questions…Miss Hendy.”
“This is about the Vetrov case, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Tell me….” I paused, watching her lock her jaw. “Who gave you the file?”
“No one.”
“Don’t play games with me, girl.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “It was a publicly available case. I accessed it through the university’s legal reform archives.”
A pause.
“That answers how. Not who.”
“I told you,” she insisted, her voice steady. “No one gave it to me. I chose it because the sentencing pattern matched three other cases I’d cross-referenced. Besides, I know in my gut that Daniel Vetrov is innocent.”
I stared at her for a moment, and she looked right at me without blinking. From her file, I already learned that she was working on the case alone. No external influence whatsoever. However, this interrogation was just to confirm.
“Sit,” I said, my tone low and even.
“I’d rather stand.”
My expression remained neutral. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Her jaw tightened, and after a beat, she sank into the sofa behind her.
I couldn’t care less whether she sat or stood. Making her sit down was a reminder of who called the shots around here. I was in charge, not her. She needed to understand that.
She kept her back straight and her hands in her lap. Her expression was dark, her brows knitted to accentuate the scowl on her face.
“What makes you think Daniel Vetrov is innocent?” I asked her.
“If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
Her sharp tongue was as disturbing as it was interesting. I hadn’t had someone challenge me like this in a while. And it was rather refreshing.
“In your presentation, you mentioned mobile tower discrepancy,” I said. “How did you obtain that data?”
She exhaled softly. “Freedom of information request. Filed eight months ago.”
“You’ve been working on this for eight months?” I asked.
“Ten,” she corrected. “I filed the request at two months.”
The room fell silent for a moment until she broke it.
“It’s just a student presentation. What’s the big deal?”
“If it’s ‘just a student presentation,’ why did you request the case be reopened?”
“Because an innocent man is in jail while the real culprit behind the bombing—that claimed a dozen lives—still walks the streets of Chicago.” The words burst out in a rush, her tone laced with resentment. “How are you okay with that?”
I didn’t respond.
“Would you be so chill if it were your brother behind bars for a crime he did not commit?” she asked, attempting to question my morality.
Her ignorance and na?veté almost made me laugh. Almost. She thought she’d found a thin thread in my conscience to tug at. She was wrong.
She looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Who are you protecting?”
I didn’t blink.
“I mean, that’s the only logical explanation,” she continued, her voice dripping with conviction. “You kidnapped me because you know I’m on to something, something that would prove Vetrov was framed.”
Silence.
She leaned in, her gaze unwavering. “If I prove his innocence, the authorities would have no choice but to investigate the real culprit.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “You don’t want that. That’s why you’re trying to silence me—to protect the mastermind behind the bombing.”
“Trust me,” I said, “if I wanted to silence you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She rose to her feet, daring to close the distance between us. “Then what do you want with me? Why am I here?”
I didn’t answer.
She glared at me with a strange fire in her eyes that triggered something alien inside me. The room shifted to something darker, something I had yet to name. And when my eyes fell on the peaks poking from underneath her dress, something lit up in my chest.
I returned my gaze to her face, trying to resist the temptation of her erect nipples. A shiver shot down my spine as the space between us narrowed. Her warm hazel eyes, flashing with defiance, bore into mine, making my blood run cold.
Her scent invaded my senses in such close proximity. Intoxicating. Primal. My eyes traced the perfect curve of her lips, then darted down to her bosom. In an instant, I looked back at her face, wondering why I was distracted by her body.
Without another word, I turned around and began walking toward the door. I couldn’t risk the tension shifting further. I thought she’d make a remark about why I was leaving so suddenly. But she didn’t. She just stood there in silence, watching me walk away.
Once outside, I locked the door behind me and combed my fingers through my hair.
What the fuck was that?