Renat
I watch Ava eat like she's starving, and something primal twists in my chest. Mine. This fragile, beautiful thing is mine to feed, to protect, to keep.
She's wearing simple clothes, jeans and a black t-shirt that's slightly too big for her frame. Her dark hair is damp from the shower, falling in waves past her shoulders. Without makeup, without the fear-mask she wore earlier, she looks softer.
"You're staring," she says without looking up from where my hand covers hers.
"I'm appreciating."
That gets her to glance at me, and I see color flood her cheeks. Good. I want her aware of me, conscious of every moment between us.
"How long do I have?" she asks quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"Before you use me as bait." She nudges her hand out from under mine and twists hers together before dropping them on her lap. "That’s why you took me, so what’s the plan?"
Smart girl. Too smart for her own good.
"Tomorrow, I need to take you to my brother," I confirm. "Adrik wants to discuss strategy for drawing out your father."
She flinches at the mention of him. "Will you let me talk to my mom first? She must be terrified. The FBI probably told her I was taken."
Everything in me wants to say no. Every contact with the outside world is a risk, a potential leak. But the look in her eyes, hopeful and desperate and trying so hard to be brave, breaks through my tactical training.
"Yes. But on a secure line. And I'll be listening."
"Thank you." The relief in her voice is palpable.
We finish eating in silence. I should be planning. Should be thinking about how to use Ava to flush out her coward father. Should be preparing for Adrik's inevitable questions about why I'm keeping her here instead of in a secure facility.
Instead, I'm thinking about how her lips felt under mine. How she kissed me back even though she's scared. How she said I’m not a monster even when we both know the truth.
"What happens after?" she asks suddenly.
"After what?"
"After you catch my father. After you..." She can't say the word kill. "After it's over. What happens to me?"
I stand and move around the table, pulling her to her feet. She comes willingly, her small hands reflexively resting on my chest.
"I told you. You're mine. That doesn't have an expiration date."
"But I don't understand what that means." Her voice rises slightly. "Am I a prisoner? A pet? A—"
I silence her with a kiss, softer than before but no less claiming. When I pull back, I keep my forehead pressed to hers.
"You're mine, Ava. Not a prisoner. Not a pet. Mine. As in, you live here. You finish your schooling. You become whatever you want to become. But you sleep in my bed. You wear my marks. You take my name and carry my—"
I stop myself before I can finish that sentence. Too much. Too soon. She's not ready to hear about how I want to breed her, want to fill her with my child until there's no question who she belongs to.
"Your what?" she prompts.
"My protection," I finish lamely.
She searches my face, and I know she doesn't believe me. But she doesn't push.
"I'm tired," she says instead. "I haven't slept properly in weeks."
"Then sleep." I release her and gesture toward the bedroom. "The bed is yours."
"Where will you sleep?"
"I don't sleep much."
"Renat—"
"I'll be right here if you need me." I guide her toward the bedroom door. "Go. Rest. Tomorrow will be difficult."
She hesitates at the threshold, looking back at me. "Will you really protect my family?"
"Yes."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because I keep my promises, milaya. Always."
She studies me for another long moment, then nods and disappears into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.
I stand there listening until I hear the rustle of sheets, the soft sigh as she settles into bed. Only then do I allow myself to move.
I pull out my phone and dial Viktor, my second-in-command.
"Status," I say when he answers.
"The feds are swarming her apartment building. They've got her place cordoned off as a crime scene." Viktor's voice is gruff. "Word is they're looking for you specifically."
"Let them look."
Silence on the other end. Then: "Renat, what the hell is going on? This was supposed to be a simple extraction. Now you've got feds crawling all over our territory, and you're refusing direct orders."
I move to the windows, staring out at the glittering Strip. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it."
"I can't." The admission costs me. "She's... I can't explain it, Viktor. But I'm not giving her up. Not to Adrik, not to anyone."
"Jesus Christ." Viktor lets out a harsh breath. "You're in love with her."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Then what is it?" he demands, and I can hear the exasperation at the edge of his words.
I don't have an answer. Love is too simple, too clean a word for what I feel. This is possession. Obsession. A need so visceral it's rewriting my DNA.
"Just tell Adrik I'll be there tomorrow," I say. "With Ava. To discuss next steps as planned."
I hang up before Viktor can argue further.
The penthouse is quiet. I'm used to silence. I've spent years cultivating it, learning to move through the world like a ghost. But now the silence feels oppressive, empty.
Because she's not in it.
I pour myself two fingers of vodka and settle into the chair facing the bedroom door. If she tries to run, I'll hear her. If she needs me, I'll be here.
I pull up the file on my phone, the one I've been building on Ava and her family for the past three weeks. Photos of her walking to work. Her class schedule. Her pathetic bank balance. Everything about her life laid bare.
She walked into my suite like a prisoner entering her cell.
Only she's not a prisoner. Not really.
She's something far more dangerous.
She's a choice.
I've killed men for less than what her father did. I've destroyed entire families, burned down empires, erased people from existence without a second thought. I'm very good at what I do because I don't question orders. Don't feel guilt. Don't allow emotion to cloud my judgment.
Until her.
I down the vodka and pour another, then another.
The alcohol does nothing to dull the edge of need riding me.
I want to go into that bedroom. Want to strip off her clothes and claim every inch of her skin.
Want to fuck her until she screams my name, until she understands on a cellular level that she's mine.
But tonight, she needs rest. Needs to process. Needs to come to terms with her new reality.
Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, I'll show her exactly what it means to belong to me.
Hours pass. The Strip below pulses with life. Drunk tourists, desperate gamblers, people chasing impossible dreams with money they don't have. From up here, it all looks so small. So meaningless.
Nothing matters except the girl sleeping in my bed.
Around three AM, I hear it. A soft whimper from the bedroom. Then another. A nightmare.
I'm through the door and flicking on the bedside lamp before I think about it.
She's tangled in the sheets, tossing and turning, her face scrunched in distress. "No," she mumbles. "Please, no...the children!"
Her father's victims. She's dreaming about them.
I sit on the edge of the bed and touch her shoulder gently. "Ava. Wake up."
She jerks awake with a gasp, eyes wild and unfocused in the darkness. For a moment she doesn't know where she is, and I see panic flare in her expression.
"Easy," I murmur. "You're safe. You're with me."
Recognition dawns, and with it, tears. She launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and sobbing into my shoulder.
I freeze. No one willingly touches me. Not ever. I'm the Devil. Untouchable, unreachable, cold and hard.
Her tears soak through my shirt, her body shaking against mine, and I find my arms coming up to hold her. To cradle her against my chest like something precious.
"I'm sorry," she gasps between sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Shh. You have nothing to apologize for."
"I can't stop seeing them. The children. They have no faces but I know it’s them. I keep thinking about how scared they must have been, and it's my fault because if my father hadn't—"
"Stop." I pull back enough to cup her face, forcing her to look at me. "This is not your fault. You didn't make his choices. You don't carry his sins."
"But I'm his daughter."
"You're so much more than that." I brush away her tears with my thumbs. "You're brave and strong and good. Everything he isn't. Don't let his evil poison who you are."
She stares at me, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Then she does something that stops my heart.
She kisses me.
It's different from before. Not claiming or possessive. Just soft. Seeking. Like she's trying to find something in me that makes sense of all this chaos.
I kiss her back.
And I'm lost.