Chapter 6 - Katya
The drive home is supposed to help clear my head, but it doesn’t. Not while he keeps creeping back in like a parasite I can’t rid myself of.
Sergey.
He stood in my garage like he owned the place, as if he was anything but intrusive. His arrogance was off the charts, yet he remained calm and collected, as if every word was intentional, and he had no problem with it.
Worst of all, I couldn’t stop noticing everything about him. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way he smiled like it was second nature for him, and he knew he was in control of a game I didn’t agree to play.
I don’t even want to think about him or his annoying tendencies. I sure as hell don’t want to think about his features any longer than I need to.
Luckily, he isn’t my problem anymore. I finished with his bike, and since it’s now gone, I can officially consider him out of my hair.
That means no more Sergey popping up and trying his hardest to break through my indifferent exterior. No more fighting to stand my ground and not crumble.
I hate that I’m even thinking about him after the fact. But he lingers, and I need to shake him off completely.
After making my way through the building, I reach my door and pull out my keys with a heavy sense of unease in my gut. I don’t know why, but since the moment I saw Sergey today, something felt off. And now, it’s gotten worse.
In an attempt to calm myself, I pull in a deep breath and slot my key into place before turning it, but I don’t feel the usual resistance of the lock sliding out. Instead, it’s like nothing was there at all.
I stop cold while I stare down at the key in the lock. I twist it the opposite way, locking it, then turning back to simulate how it usually feels. That resistance is noticeable.
Standing there with rigid shoulders, I can’t make sense of it.
I know I locked the door before I left. I’ve always been careful about things like this, given how I live alone in a big city. Even with the building staff downstairs or the cameras throughout the place, I don’t trust that to be enough.
Not moving a muscle for a long moment, I feel my pulse quicken and my heart goes right into my throat.
I want to think I’m just being paranoid and overreacting.
But then again, my instincts have never failed me before.
Slowly, I turn the knob and push it open before I even set foot inside. The condo is silent and dark as I expect it to be, but something still feels off. Something I can’t put my finger on yet.
“Yuri?” I ask, not ruling out the possibility that my brother might do something as cryptic as entering my place when I’m not home. But the lights being off still doesn’t add up.
I receive no response.
Stepping inside cautiously, I glance around, only hearing the soft sound of my boots against the hardwood floor. The door eventually clicks shut behind me, and I scan the shadows for anything out of place.
My entire body thrums with uneasiness as I move over to the light switch, flick it on, and illuminate the living room.
Then I see him.
Sitting right in the center of the room on the middle cushion of my sofa, Sergey has a leg lazily crossed over the other while his hands are clasped loosely in his lap like he has all the time in the world.
A scream catches in my throat, and my stomach drops.
Immediately, so many things I could say to him fill my head, pushing me to unleash on him. But it seems almost surreal.
How…how did he get into my place? Why is he here?
As much as my blood boils at the sight of him on my couch like he has every right to be here, I can only manage to grit out a single word.
“You.”
“I’m certain you haven’t forgotten my name already, Kat,” he murmurs smoothly, sending a subtle shiver down my spine.
My fists ball up instinctively, and I can’t decide if I should charge at him or run out the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was waiting for you, obviously,” he hums, tilting his head ever so slightly with a subtle pull of his lips.
Not a good enough answer.
“Get out.”
Of course, he doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t even flinch at my rough tone. Instead, his eyes remain sharp and dark in a way that makes my skin prickle.
I stay just as still, and all the while, we hold that intense eye contact, wondering who will make the first move.
The longer I look at him, the faster everything hits me at once.
Him being at the car meet out of the blue, then appearing at the shop requesting I do a job for him, and him coming and going whenever he pleased to check up on the Panigale…it was all too convenient.
And now, he’s in my condo without a single invitation from me. Somehow, he broke in, and now I’m cornered in my own home.
My pulse falters before panic rushes in full-tilt, and I glance at the bedroom down the hall, wishing I were close enough to make a break for it and grab my pistol.
He wouldn’t be all that intimidating with several bullet holes in his chest.
But the only thing in between me and the gun tucked away in my nightstand is him…he’d catch me before I ever got there.
“You’re looking for this, aren’t you?” Sergey asks, pulling something out from behind his back.
My eyes widen fractionally, and a new ache punches through my chest.
My gun. In his grasp.
So much for that.
The thought of him being armed and in my home, sitting there like a psychopath, sends a brutal chill through my veins.
“Thought so.”
Swallowing hard, I know there’s no way I can charge forward. I can’t engage with him. I just need to go and get in front of as many eyes as I possibly can.
I step back toward the door while my hand shakes faintly, but he’s up before I can even grab the handle. In three long strides, he’s in front of me, face to face, as he grabs my wrist and pins it to the door while my pistol is softly nudged against my side. I stiffen, not pulling my eyes from his.
“Don’t,” Sergey says softly—far too soft for someone in his position with his advantage.
My throat feels drier than it ever has, but I force myself to speak anyway. I refuse to let him think this is all I’m capable of.
“Or what?”
Despite the dangerous undercurrent of this exchange, he just barely smirks at me. “Do you really want to find out?”
I don’t, not really…but he’s in my place. He somehow made his way in while I was gone, and now he has my gun pressed against my side.
Testing the waters, I try to slip out of his hold, but he presses me back against the wall to completely cage me against it while his eyes bore into mine.
“Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, not using as tight a grip around my wrist as he could.
I pull in a discreet breath, trying to forget about the way his body is pressed up against mine, all hard muscle and indisputable power in this moment. I can’t think about that now.
“Move,” I utter, keeping my tone as level as I can.
As much as I want to use force, I’m not stupid. He’s bigger and stronger than me, even with whatever fragments of information I can recall from the old self-defense classes my dad made me take when I was younger.
His body heat seeps into my skin regardless of the subtle room left between us that makes me falsely think that maybe, just maybe, I have enough room to move.
I can’t overpower him like this, especially not with the pistol against me. But one way or another, I could find an angle to work from. I just need to get his guard down.
“Move,” I say again, forcing the word through clenched teeth.
But he doesn’t. Instead, Sergey just stands there while his eyes rove over my features, and his expression betrays none of his thoughts.
I want to scream at him. I want to shove him off and lay into him for all of this.
That silence lingers, punctuated only by my strained breaths, and before I can stop myself, the words unfurl from within me.
“You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?” I ask, tone incredulous.
“You showed up at the car meet like you were some random stranger, then you came by the shop looking for me specifically. And now…now you’re in my place, holding me hostage.
Is this something you do? You pretend to be into cars to lure women out to what… attack them? Kill them?”
“It’s not like that,” Sergey says with a quiet, vaguely annoyed sigh, almost like what I’m saying is completely ridiculous.
“Then what the hell is your deal?” I demand, brows furrowing at him.
He exhales slowly while he seemingly grips his patience as best as he can. “You’re a lot sharper than I first imagined. I wonder if you get that from your brother.”
“Don’t bring Yuri into this.”
“Ah, but that’s the problem, Kat,” Sergey murmurs, saying my name like he can taste it.
“Yuri’s already in it. He put himself in the equation the moment he took your father’s place, and he’s been nipping at my family’s heels since the day it happened.
We’ve let him live this long to make sure he’s the one responsible for some trouble we’ve faced recently, but the moment he proves us right, he’ll regret it. ”
My stomach twists, well aware of what this is.
Despite everything I’ve done to keep myself as far away from the world of organized crime as possible, my brother’s dealings are starting to bleed into my life. Whatever Yuri has done, I’m facing the repercussions.
Growing more irritated by how everything is unfolding, I can’t help but try to wrench my wrist free again, to no avail. “What are you saying?”
“My family did it,” Sergey begins, voice low and measured. “We’re the reason your father is dead, and now your brother is trying to return the favor.”
The words hit me harder than I expected them to.
I shouldn’t be entirely surprised. I knew Dad had been killed because of a rival family, but I didn’t know who. I never asked.
I sure as hell never thought it would be the family the man standing before me hails from.
My mind fights to process everything while my body is already reacting, not caring about the gun pressed against my side.