Chapter 2 – Kaz
I watch the grainy security footage for what has to be the hundredth time.
There’s no sound, just muted black-and-white footage playing on loop—three of my men dragging a screaming bastard into the alley while I trail behind, then the quick flash of light from a camera just as I raise my gun and fire.
Perfect fucking timing.
And there—right there, in the corner—the flash that changes everything.
I freeze the frame.
There she is.
Face pale, eyes wide, mouth parted in silent horror.
Violet Harrison.
This has got to be the biggest fucking twist fate has ever pulled on my ass.
I lean back in the chair, tension twisting down my spine as I drag a hand over my face. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She’s never been in the way before. She’s always known how to keep herself far enough from the fire.
But now….
Now she’s seen something she shouldn’t.
And I know exactly what that means.
I have to do something about it. I have to get involved.
I zoom in on the screen, letting the cursor hover over her image. She looks…soft. Curious. Terrified.
And still so goddamn beautiful.
I know every inch of that face.
I’ve traced it before with the pad of my thumb in the privacy of my own darkness—photos, stolen glances, videos my men took of her that she didn’t know about. It’s not the first time I’m holding her image in my hands.
But it might be the last time I get to look at her like this.
Innocent.
Untouched by the blood and dirt I live in.
I clench my jaw because the truth tastes like ash in my mouth.
She’s not just some girl anymore. Not after tonight.
Now she’s evidence. And I’m going to have to treat her like I do all others. Right? Yeah, fucking right!
What the hell was she doing in that alley?
She’s twenty-two and fucking old enough to know dark alleys are dangerous for a helpless woman like her. Fuck, just last night, a man was killed in the same alley. What could she be doing there?
Maxim and Milos walk into my study, but I don’t take my eyes off the screen.
I feel them come to a stop beside me. Maxim, my childhood best friend and second in command, shuffles closer, holding something in his gloved hands.
“We tracked her back,” he says simply, like it’s nothing.
“Broke into her place. Found the camera.”
He hands it over, cool and heavy in my palm—a vintage piece of shit she carries everywhere with her.
“We left a note in its place,” Maxim adds. “Didn’t want to touch her. Figured we’d wait on your call for whatever comes next.”
I don’t respond. Not yet.
But I know why they didn’t touch her. Why they left a note instead. They know of my interest in Violet. I’ve had Maxim and Milo, a trusted soldier, shadow her secretly to get me photos and videos. Milo never asks questions, but Maxim always does.
“Why do you need her pictures? If you want her, just take her.”
I could. But I don’t. Violet isn’t built for this life. She’s too pure. Too sweet. Let her finish college and do something civil with her life. She doesn’t belong with someone like me.
But now….
I power on the camera and scroll through the memory. Click. Click. Click. There they are—three crystal-clear shots of the execution. Blood. Chaos. The victim mid-collapse. All lit by her damn flash.
And then—
One last image.
Me.
I stare at myself, frozen in time, eyes locked on the camera. The flash must have gone off just as I turned. My face is sharp. Focused. Unmistakably mine.
Fuck.
I exhale slowly, eyes never leaving the image.
She caught me.
She fucking caught me.
And now…I have to decide what to do with her.
“What should we do with her, Boss?” Milo asks, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
Maxim shoots him a look sharp enough to slit throats. “Shut up,” it says without words.
Milo mumbles something and lowers his gaze, lips pressing into a tight line. I don’t answer. Not yet. My fingers are still wrapped around the camera, thumb hovering over the final image of my face staring right into the camera.
Before I can answer, the door opens again, and Arina Morova strolls in, whistling like they haven’t just walked into a damn war room.
They’re wearing neon green suspenders over a cropped mesh tank that shows off the full-sleeve tattoos running down both arms—dragons and circuitry and stars, colliding like chaos on her skin.
Their blond pixie cut is styled sharply today, and their lipstick is matte black, like the nail polish on their fingers, as always.
They look like they stepped out of an anarchist runway.
Not like the security chief and tech expert they very much are.
They’re gender nonconforming, so every day is a circus show of fashion for them.
Arina walks toward my table and glances at the camera screen, which still shows my frozen face. They whistle low, arms folding behind their head as they lean against the desk.
“Well, damn,” they say with a smirk. “You look hot in that shot. Very Mafia Vogue.”
I don’t bother looking at them. “What do you want?”
“I did some digging on our little photographer.” They smirk and toss a flash drive onto the desk like it’s a mic drop.
“Violet Harrison. Twenty-two. Literature major at the university. She’s in her final year.
GPA’s solid. Smart girl. Freelances for three crime blogs, mostly digital, decently trafficked. ”
Arina thinks they’re giving me new information, but there’s nothing about Violet I don’t already know. Hell, they’re probably the only one in this room who doesn’t know Violet. To their credit, Maxim and Milo stay silent.
Arina continues, “She writes murder pieces. Break-ins. Cold cases. Missing persons. Legit stuff, not the weird Reddit tinfoil corner. She’s good—like, ‘knows how to get past police tape without being noticed’ good.”
“Break-ins,” Maxim murmurs beside me. “There was a robbery at the pawnshop near the alley last night. She must’ve been there for that.”
Arina nods. “Exactly. Robbery gone sideways. One guy dead. She probably heard about it and showed up for her usual moody, back-alley shots. She didn’t know what she was walking into. She wasn’t looking for you.”
I don’t say anything, but my jaw tenses.
“She’s innocent,” Arina adds, softer now, reading my silence. “And Boss…she’s way too sweet to be anywhere near this shit.”
I know. Fuck it, I know. But when have I ever backed down from something I wanted? Especially when it played right into my hands.
“She looks like she writes poetry in the margins of her textbooks and cries during Hallmark commercials,” Arina says with a short laugh. “Not exactly trained for the Bratva bloodbath.”
I keep staring at the screen, pushing out Arina’s voice that insists Violet is innocent and only focusing on mine. She’s seen too much. She knows too much. I must take care of this.
Even though Arina’s still talking, I already know what I’m going to do.
“She’s innocent,” they say again, like it makes a difference. “Just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I turn my gaze from the screen and look at them. “Doesn’t matter.”
Arina blinks. “Boss—”
“She’s a loose end now,” I say, voice cold, final. “And I don’t keep loose ends.”
There’s a beat of silence in the room. Even Milo straightens from where he’s leaning by the door.
Arina crosses their arms, jaw tightening. “You’re going to take her out because she happened to be doing her job?”
“She wasn’t just walking by,” I snap. “She had a camera. She has photos. And she writes about this kind of thing for a living. She’s not just going to forget it.”
“We have her camera, and she hasn’t published anything—”
“Yet,” I cut in sharply. “But how long before she does? How long before some editor waves a paycheck in her face and she starts typing up what she saw in that alley? Even if she doesn’t name me, all it takes is one wrong sentence, one image to get into the wrong hands.”
I rise from my chair, the finality of the decision settling like lead in my chest.
“I can’t afford that risk. I won’t.”
Maxim is staring at me like he wants to say something that’ll piss me the fuck off, but thankfully, he keeps silent.
“What’s the next step, Boss?” Milo asks.
“I’m bringing her to the manor first,” I say, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt like I’m talking about a dinner guest and not someone I’m planning to abduct. “Then I’ll figure out what to do.”
Maxim lifts a brow. “So…kidnapping?”
Arina raises a hand like they’re about to scold me. “Yeah, that’s literally kidnapping, Kaz.”
I scoff. “Arrest me, then.”
Maxim chuckles under his breath, and Arina mutters something in Russian that sounds like a curse, but they don’t push back again.
They know once my mind’s made up, there’s no going back.
Maxim leans against the edge of the table and folds his arms. “So what—you planning to kill her?” His tone is casual, but his eyes are watching me too closely.
The question hits harder than it should.
My jaw clenches.
Kill her?
The thought shouldn’t make my chest tighten. It shouldn’t jolt through me like a live wire snapping at my ribs. But it does. I glare at Maxim, sharper than I intend.
“Uh oh,” Arina says, raising both brows as they grin slowly. “I know that look.”
I shoot them a warning glance. “Don’t.”
They raise a hand in mock surrender. “Just saying…are you kidnapping her because she’s a loose end—or because your dick’s hard for her?”
“Arina,” I say tightly, “do your job. Don’t try to play shrink.”
But the words ring hollow, even to me.
Because they’re right.
And I hate that they’re right.
There’s a reason I keep watching that security footage. A reason I know every goddamn detail of her face. She’s not the threat. I am.
I turn to Arina. “Scrub her online footprint. Wipe anything that leads back to her being in that alley. Her freelance profiles. Her posts. I want it gone.”
Arina salutes lazily as they head for the door. “Yes, Boss.”
But then they pause by the door, their head tilting slightly, like they’re debating whether or not to say the next thing. Of course they do.
“Is it really a good idea to bring her here?” they ask. “To your actual manor? I mean—this is home base. Your name, your operation, your everything.”
I don’t blink. “Yes.”
They blink for me. “Seriously?”
“She stays here,” I say. “Where I can see her. Where she’s not running around the city with my name in her mouth. Once I figure out what to do with her, she’ll be gone.”