CHAPTER 18
ROSE P.O.V.
My body was a battlefield, humming with the aftershocks of Liam’s brutal, possessive claim.
Every muscle ached, every nerve ending sang a raw, electric song that was both pain and pure, unadulterated pleasure.
My lips still throbbed from the savage force of his kiss, a permanent brand that marked me as his, even in the depths of my sleep.
My mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties, was a blank slate, emptied by the sheer, overwhelming power of his penetration, the violent release that had left me trembling and spent.
The mattress still bore the imprint of our struggle, the sheets tangled around my legs, sticky with sweat and the evidence of our recent coupling.
My injured foot throbbed a dull, insistent rhythm, but even that discomfort was dulled by the lingering burn between my thighs, a constant reminder of the beast who had just fucked me into oblivion.
Liam. My captor, my tormentor, my salvation, and now, my partner in this savage war.
The contradictions were enough to drive a sane woman mad. I was not sane. Not anymore.
I lay there for a long moment, listening to the silence of the safe house, a silence that now felt less like a prison and more like a strategic fortress.
He was gone, of course. He always was, after.
The hum of activity from the comms room, faint but insistent, told me he was already back at it, orchestrating his bloody symphony of vengeance.
There was no time for softness in his world.
No time for lingering embraces, for whispered words of comfort.
Only war. And I, Rose Collins, the art historian, was now right in the thick of it.
Pushing myself up, I stifled a groan as my muscles protested.
My legs felt like jelly, my hips sore, but a thrill, dangerous and exhilarating, coursed through me.
He had fucked me senseless, yes. He had commanded, had taken, had branded me as his property.
But in doing so, he had also acknowledged me.
My mind. My fire. My defiance. He had called me his queen.
And that, in this brutal kingdom, was more than just a title. It was a weapon.
I hobbled towards the small bathroom, the emerald green dress I’d worn to the gallery—now torn and stained from our wild fucking in the SUV—lying in a heap on the floor.
Vance. The slimy, pathetic aide. A shiver went down my spine as I thought of Liam’s cold words: “He disappears. He learns what happens when he plays games he doesn’t understand, with women who belong to other men.
” He was gone. Erased. And a part of me, a dark, primal part I hadn’t known existed, understood.
Even approved. This world was ruthless. And to survive, to fight, I had to be ruthless too.
The shower was hot, the spray stinging my bruised skin, washing away the sweat and grime, but not the memory of his touch.
My mind raced, replaying every detail of the previous night.
The gallery, Vance’s lecherous gaze, my carefully crafted seduction, the name Konstantin hovering on his lips...
and then Liam’s explosive intervention. His fury had been a terrifying thing to behold, but also, disturbingly, arousing.
He had claimed me, openly, violently, in front of a stunned crowd.
A public declaration that I was his, and his alone. The possessive bastard.
Dressing in a clean t-shirt and fresh leggings, I wrapped my damp hair in a towel and made my way to the main living area.
The tactical map, a stark panorama of red and black markings, still dominated the metal table.
Councilman Thorne’s smug face stared up at me from a monitor, now overlaid with red lines, signifying his imminent downfall.
Liam was a man of his word. His empire was already moving, striking hard and fast against Konstantin’s network.
Liam was in the comms room, his deep voice a low rumble. Vasily was there too, I could hear their murmurs, the quick, precise commands. They were talking about the next phase. Markovic. Randall. The "Spider's Web." The legitimate pillars of Konstantin’s power.
I pushed open the door, ignoring the slight wince on Vasily’s face as I entered.
Liam looked up, his steel-gray eyes locking onto mine, a flicker of something unreadable—possessiveness, desire, perhaps even approval—crossing his features.
He was dressed in dark fatigues, his Sig Sauer holstered, already preparing for the next move.
He looked like a god of war, brutal and undeniably compelling.
“Pakhan,” Vasily greeted, his gaze briefly flicking to me before returning to the screens.
Liam simply nodded, his eyes still on me, assessing. “Rose. Your foot?”
“It’s fine,” I lied, favoring it slightly, but refusing to show weakness. I moved towards the tactical map, my gaze sweeping over the projections. “Thorne’s office. You sent a team for physical documents, as I suggested?”
“They’re already in position,” Liam confirmed, his voice rough. “Sergei’s crew. They’ll sweep his office, private residence. Konstantin’s secrets won’t stay hidden for long.”
“Good,” I said, my finger tracing a line on the map, from Thorne’s district to a cluster of buildings in midtown.
Markovic. The corporate lawyer. “Thorne is a public figure, easily discredited. But Markovic is different. He’s a legal weapon.
He legitimizes Konstantin’s illicit dealings, weaves his web through contracts and corporate loopholes.
Taking him down requires more than just exposing his dirty laundry.
It requires dismantling his legal fortress. ”
Liam’s eyes narrowed, a predatory glint appearing in their depths. “And how do you propose we do that, moya roza? Blackmail is our currency.”
“Blackmail works, yes,” I conceded, turning to face him, my hands resting on the edge of the table.
“But lawyers like Markovic are experts at shielding themselves, at burying their own transgressions deep within legal frameworks. What if we don’t just expose his crimes, but use his own skills against him?
Make him compromise Konstantin’s network, legally? ”
Vasily frowned, confused. “How is that possible? He’s loyal to Konstantin, Pakhan.”
“Loyalty can be swayed,” I countered, meeting Liam’s gaze, a challenge in my eyes.
“Especially when faced with ruin. Markovic is a shark. He cares about self-preservation above all else. His loyalty isn’t to Konstantin; it’s to his own power, his own impeccable reputation, his own opulent lifestyle.
We threaten those, and he’ll sing. Not just to us, but to the authorities, making it look like he’s the one cleaning up his act, exposing corruption, while actually dismantling Konstantin’s empire from the inside out. ”
Liam leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze intense, piercing. “You think he’d turn on Konstantin for a cleaner slate?”
“Not for a cleaner slate, Morozov,” I said, pushing back, meeting his intensity with my own.
“For survival. We give him two options: absolute destruction, public humiliation, prison... or a chance to salvage his career, his wealth, by cooperating. He can spin it. Say he was coerced, manipulated. He’s a lawyer; he knows how to manipulate the narrative.
He becomes the ‘hero’ who exposed Konstantin, while secretly working for us. ”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Liam’s lips, a chilling curve that sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and perverse attraction. “You’re suggesting we turn the fucking serpent against itself.”
“Exactly,” I breathed, feeling the thrill of the strategy ignite a fire in my blood.
“We don’t just cut off the head; we poison the body from within.
Markovic knows every legal loophole, every hidden clause, every shell corporation Konstantin uses.
He can unravel the entire web, legally, making it impossible for Konstantin to recover. ”
Liam straightened, his eyes still burning into mine. “And how do we make him believe we can offer him that escape? That we can protect him from Konstantin’s wrath, and from the authorities once he cooperates?”
“That’s where you come in, Pakhan,” I said, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper.
My hands, emboldened, reached out, flattening against the hard plane of his chest. His muscles flexed under my touch, a silent acknowledgment of my proximity.
“You offer him the deal. You show him the proof of his downfall, the evidence we’ll get from Thorne’s office, the leverage we already have on his own dealings.
You make him see that you are the only one who can offer him a way out, that Konstantin is already a sinking ship.
You promise him a future, albeit one where he works for you, silently, in the shadows. ”
His gaze dropped to my lips, his breath hitching slightly.
The air between us crackled with a dangerous energy, a thick, palpable tension that had nothing to do with war strategies and everything to do with raw, untamed desire.
Vasily, sensing the shift, cleared his throat and discreetly excused himself, leaving us alone in the comms room, bathed in the eerie glow of the tactical map.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, moya roza,” Liam growled, his hands coming up, gripping my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body.
My hips instinctively arched, pressing against the growing ridge in his fatigues.
“You’re asking me to trust a viper. And you’re pushing your fucking luck with me. ”