Chapter 28 Aniyah #2
What? My brain stuttered. This had to be a setup. For years, Alic resisted me with his ever-persistent and stoic no’s, making sure I knew it was impossible. We were oil and fire, always sparking, never blending.
What changed? Was it the sex? It couldn’t have been that. Right?
Maybe I finally broke through that stone armor of his. Maybe I finally wore the stone beast down. Maybe… Maybe he’s my….
A flicker of panic tried to rise in my chest, but I shoved it back down.
“I would’ve given in to you much sooner if I knew it was going to make you this quiet,” he said with a smirk.
I punched his arm. It was a knee-jerk reaction. The split-second my fist flew through the air, I saw his skin shimmer into stone. Too late for me to pull back, I braced myself for the pain that would shoot up my arms… but it never came.
I looked down. My hand was still resting on his arm, but the stone had melted away beneath my touch. Right there, in that small patch of contact, his armor had given way to skin.
Real. Warm. Flesh.
I looked up at him, heart stuttering, and his expression made my chest tighten. No shock. No fear. No confusion.
Just soft eyes and relaxed shoulders.
Like… this was normal for him. For us.
Are we—
A loud bang echoed from inside the container. The sound snapped me back to reality like a whip crack, dragging me out of the softness and into the steel-edged role I had to play.
I let my arm drop and turned away, sucking in a breath to gather my scattered pieces.
No time to feel. No time for anything but answers and vengeance.
Focus.
“I’m doing this,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I’m not some fragile princess. I’m a Syndicate boss through and through. Got it?”
He held my gaze for a few seconds, searching for more than I wanted to show. Then, jaw tight, he gave a clipped nod and stepped back. It wasn't an agreement. It was a show of respect, the kind that came from knowing I wasn’t going to back down and trusting me to make the right choice.
The door creaked again. Maso had opened it wider, his silent message clear as day. Ready?
I gave Alic one last look before stepping past Maso and into the container, letting the cold darkness swallow me whole. The door shut behind us with a metallic thud, and a single light flickered on overhead.
The space was tight and cold, the air thick with metal and sweat.
Chained in the center, like a captured beast, was a man on his knees. Both arms shackled to the floor, an iron muzzle locked tight over his face. A collar was wrapped around his throat, its taut leash hooked to the ceiling above.
He didn’t flinch when the light hit him. Just raised his head slowly, his dark eyes locking on mine with pure burning hatred.
By scent alone, I would’ve guessed werewolf, but something was off. My magic wasn’t picking up the usual shifter energy. It was muted, like someone had rearranged his natural power until it was somehow less than and also not.
Looking around at the setup, I had to admit that crazy bear girl was good.
“Itak, tsvetochnaya sterva zdes.”
The wolf's voice rasped like gravel under metal, cold and rough. Then, without flinching, he spat blood at my feet, glaring up at me like he was daring me to react.
The sight of him, not cowering, not trembling, defiant the whole way, irked me.
No, it infuriated me. Everything about him set my nerves on edge.
From those sharp, hate-filled eyes to the military-grade boots that reeked of backers with money and danger.
My instincts screamed something was wrong here. Unnatural.
*But the second I let myself remember what his crew tried to do, how they attempted to infiltrate my club, take out my people, and gut my sanctuary from the inside, nothing else mattered.
Not the warning bells, not the mystery. Only the pounding bloodlust in my veins, begging to be unleashed, was important now.
“Russian… I think,” Maso said beside me, his voice thoughtful.
Yeah. That was what I thought, too.
I shrugged off my jacket. Wordlessly, Maso stepped forward, holding out his arms, and I handed it over. I rummaged through the inside pocket with practiced ease. A few familiar clinks, then I found exactly what I needed.
“I’m going to ask you this only a few times,” I said, my tone laced with sugar and steel. “And the longer you hold out, the better for me. So, don’t assume I’ll get bored just because I’m a girl. This used to be one of my favorite subjects.”
I opened my palm. A full set of ten rings gleamed back at me, each one adorned with diamonds and rare stones cut sharp enough to shred skin on contact.
“These are more than accessories,” I murmured, slipping them on one by one. “Each one has a story. A memory. This one,” I tapped the rose-gold diamond, “was made by my brother. Said he couldn’t craft anything flashy enough to match my style, but he was wrong.”
The LED light caught the edges just right, and they glittered like fire and ice.
I stepped closer, crouching down to his level and unclasping the muzzle strapped to his head. He blinked up at me as I lifted my hands near his face, fingers spread wide.
“See?” I whispered, wiggling them in front of his eyes. “Look how they shine.”
He opened his mouth, probably to say something smug, but I didn’t give him the chance. I backhanded him, hard. His head snapped sideways. The diamonds did their job, slicing across his cheek in glinting arcs. Blood bloomed, dripping freely.
I grabbed him by the throat before he could react, holding him steady. My voice was honeyed, dangerous. “So. Tell me. Who’s behind all this, pumpkin?”
I let go, then hit him from the other side—had to balance the damage after all.
“And don’t you dare try speaking in Russian again,” I warned. In the video, he’d spoken to Glen, which meant he knew English. Glen wasn't the type to know anything outside his bubble.
He let out a ragged breath and tilted his head back, blood stringing from his lips as he rasped, “Ya tebya ne boyus.”
As soon as he said those words, the rage came—cool, blistering. Not fire, but ice. Sharp and blinding.
I gripped his hair and yanked his head back so hard his spine protested. My lips brushed the stubble along his jaw.
“Thank you,” I whispered, “and please… keep it up.” I gave him a soft peck on his neck, smiling when I felt a tremble run down his body. I slapped him again, working the back of my hand in a diagonal so the cuts crisscrossed.
“Fight me. Disobey me. Be obstinate. Difficult. Make me work for it.”
I cupped his face in my hands, my nails digging into the already split skin and peeling it back slowly, millimeter by agonizing millimeter. I leaned in, my breath brushing his blood-slick cheek like a lover’s whisper.
“I want to hear you scream.”
I gave a hard tug, lifting away a strip of skin. He hissed through his teeth, fresh blood spilling from his lips. He was biting down on something inside his mouth so hard that it had definitely torn. That filled me with a different kind of pleasure, one that called for more blood.
“I want this to last,” I whispered into his ear. “So, do us both a favor and don’t beg too soon. Don’t break too fast.”
His head dropped forward, and I let it hang like dead weight. Then I stepped back and slammed my knee into his chest.
He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth so hard I thought they might crack. No sound. So, I did it again. Then again.
His body sagged against the chains, and I could already see the first signs of his supernatural skin knitting itself back together. Panic pricked my skin. Not now. Not yet.
Dropping to my knees in front of him, I slapped his cheek lightly. “No, no, no, my precious. We can’t have you healing just yet. I need you to feel everything.”
I lifted his chin with one hand and gently blew into his face. His eyes fluttered open, and I smiled, all fake sweetness and syrup. “Hi there. I’ve got a present for you.”
His eyes still held a flicker of defiance. Typical. I ran my fingers down, trailing along the curve of my throat to the edge of my breast, his eyes following the path I made. Even under torture, male instincts still reigned supreme.
Behind me, I felt Maso’s tense, hot gaze on my back. Looking over my shoulder, I met his eyes, a quiet warning directed his way, and he backed off.
I reached down into my cleavage, making a little show of it before I pulled out a small vial. “Ta-da!”
The wolf’s eyes widened. He yanked against the chains, trying to retreat, and I laughed. He knew exactly what it was.
“Oh, so you do know,” I said, grabbing his chin and shaking it side to side like I was scolding a pet. “Suppressant serum. Keeps you from healing. Keeps you from shifting. Keeps you right here, in the moment, with me.”
He jerked again, his panic in full throttle, but Maso, moving quicker than I could ask, held him steady.
“It won’t hurt,” I said. “Scout’s honor.” I made a horned hand gesture, pointed downward. Flicking my head to him, then to my hands, I grinned. “Oops. Wrong crew.”
Uncorking the vial with my thumb, I poured the glittering liquid over his head. It slid down, soaking into his scalp, his skin, every wound. The healing stopped instantly, and blood began to ooze fresh again.
I stepped on his hand, pressing my heel into the bones until I heard a crack.
He cried out this time, and the sound was music to my ears. The pitch was loud and desperate, the kind first screams were made of, but I wanted a symphony, and that meant putting in the work.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” I murmured.
I eyed Maso, intrigued by the hilt of a knife sticking out of his boot. Pointing at it, I batted my eyes and smiled. “Can I use that?”
He let go of the chains and handed it over without hesitation. That did something to me. Loyalty always did.
Turning back to my playmate, I crouched, knife in hand. “Now, are you going to tell me who ordered this?”
Nothing. He kept his head down and lips shut, but his muscles trembled. I was getting closer.