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SHOT 41 — As Long As She Is Mine
publish date:
2026-05-11 23:23:58The steering wheel felt hollow. Weightless. A shell of metal that moved without effort.
Dante’s chest was the opposite—packed full of something massive and nameless, throbbing like a muscle held rigid too long.
Outside the windshield, city lights smeared past. Orange. White. Fractured blue. Other people’s lives. None of them knowing what was happening inside this car.
For the first time in years, he was grateful for that.
Feliks Rostova.<
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BLOOD & JUSTICE Shot 43 — What Feliks Knows
Two hours. The letter still hadn’t let him go.Feliks held it the way a man holds evidence—between two fingers, at a slight angle to the light. Elena Lafayette’s prose was polished to a gloss so fine it became opaque. You couldn’t see through it. You could only see yourself reflected back.He kept reading anyway. Waiting for the sentences to crack.✘ ✘ ✘Dear Mr. Feliks Rostova,I wish to express my sincere appreciation for your thoughtfulness over the past five days. The flowers you sent were exquisite, and the notes accompanying each bouquet reflected a remarkable degree of taste. Nevertheless, I must respectfully ask that these deliveries be discontinued.Not because I fail to value your generosity—quite the contrary—but because I fear your kindness may be misinterpreted by certain parties who need not be named here.Yours sincerely, Elena Lafayette
BLOOD & JUSTICE SHOT 42 — Edge of the Pool, Edge of Control
The white shirt was the most honest argument that had ever clung to Elena’s body.Dante’s, of course. Egyptian cotton. Luxurious against her skin. Elena stepped out of the bedroom with one unsettling certainty: she had absolutely no intention of taking it off.The hem cut across her upper thigh at an asymmetric angle—bottom two buttons left undone by design. The corridor air slipped through that gap and grazed bare skin. For a fraction of a second she allowed herself to be ordinary. Disheveled hair. No armor. Bare feet still warm from the sheets.The only mission this morning: caffeine capable of restoring her sanity.That lasted until her foot touched the first marble stair.Her mind snapped back to its functional orbit. By the time she reached the kitchen, she had already parsed three possible reactions from the staff.The certainty was Agnes Johnson. Head kitchen staff. Twenty years of reading this family by the sound of
BLOOD & JUSTICE SHOT 41 — As Long As She Is Mine
The steering wheel felt hollow. Weightless. A shell of metal that moved without effort.Dante’s chest was the opposite—packed full of something massive and nameless, throbbing like a muscle held rigid too long.Outside the windshield, city lights smeared past. Orange. White. Fractured blue. Other people’s lives. None of them knowing what was happening inside this car.For the first time in years, he was grateful for that.Feliks Rostova.The name lodged in him like a thorn swallowed by accident. Not lethal. Just maddening.Dante had known Feliks long enough to know the man posed no real physical threat. And that—perversely—was exactly what made tonight so difficult to name.The way Feliks offered that flower. The certainty in his fingertips. Not politeness. Something older. A memory, waking up.And Elena? Elena had received them without flinching. Without stepping back. Without raising the
BLOOD & JUSTICE SHOT 40 — Between Us, Her
The gala was choreography the underworld had spent decades perfecting. White tents. Pale yellow lanterns casting just enough light to sustain the illusion of elegance—yet too dim to reveal who anyone truly was.Dangerous men stood beneath glittering chandeliers, sipping three-hundred-dollar Burgundy. Discussing philanthropy in the same quiet tone they used for debt contracts designed to strangle indefinitely.A string quartet played. No one listened.Elena stood at the edge of the crowd.In her fingers—a small white flower. Plain yellow center. Stem cut short. Utterly unremarkable.Yet there had been something in the moment Feliks Rostova pressed it into her hand. His hazel eyes too expressive for a man who had spent a lifetime perfecting indifference. His gaze lingered on her face one second longer than it should have before he pulled himself back.“Thank you,” Elena said. “I’m not accustomed to receiving
BLOOD & JUSTICE SHOT 39 — Someone You Used to Be
East River Terrace · The Charity GalaThe gala sprawled across an open terrace like a performance with no audience. White tents. Iron frames. A children’s choir swallowed whole by the murmur of the powerful.Feliks Rostova had chosen the most tactically useless position he could find—a dim corner near the bar, half-hidden under a leaning canopy. He looked like a bored man watching no one.He was mapping everything.Dante stood at the center of it all. Not because of the suit. Not the height. It was the way the man owned space—shoulders squared, chin lifted exactly far enough—as if broadcasting one silent frequency: I can ignore you, and we both know it. Feliks had recognized that particular gravity since they were eleven years old, fighting over the shadiest patch of grass along Lake Moretti.Three steps from Dante—his target.Dark red hair. Waves catching the last of th
BLOOD & JUSTICE SHOT 38 — Confessions Beyond the Reach of Light
Adalet crouched between the small raised beds behind the safe house. Her fingers worked into the soil—still damp from the previous night’s rain—moving with a calm, unhurried rhythm, as though she were quietly negotiating a peace with the world. It was difficult to believe that only four days ago, those same wrists had been locked in iron cuffs in the west sublevel of the Salvatore mansion.Elena watched her from behind the kitchen window.The bruise along Adalet’s left cheek had begun to shift color—a fading yellow now, the muted tone of a wound making its peace with skin. Beneath the long sleeves, Elena knew, there were still marks from the binding that hadn’t fully disappeared. Yet Adalet wasn’t gardening like someone running from trauma. She moved like a woman who had simply decided that the earth was far more honest than the ceiling of a bedroom.“The doctor said she needs complete rest,” a voice cut in f
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