LOGINThe safest cage is still a prison. In the blood-soaked underworld of Saint Petersburg, Danika Voronin has spent twenty-three years as her father’s golden trophy—beautiful, watched, and never free. When an anonymous hit lands on her head, the city’s most ruthless mafia don slams the gates shut and assigns her a new shadow: Kazimir. He is cold. Massive. Unmoved by her sharp tongue and prettier rebellions. He anticipates every escape, erases threats with terrifying speed, and watches her with an intensity that feels less like duty than hunger. Late-night inches become stolen heat. Every glance is a death sentence. Every touch is treason. Then Danika finds the encrypted files in his private vault, and the world splits. Kazimir is not a hired gun. He is the last heir of the rival bloodline her father butchered. He did not take this post to protect the Voronins. He took it to burn them from the inside and put a bullet in her father. Except the killer fell in love with his mark. Now a traitor is carving a coup from the shadows, and the man who was supposed to end her life is the only thing standing between her and a grave. The bedroom door no longer stays locked after midnight. The gun outside it has already chosen treason. Danika has one choice left: is the man holding the gun her ruin… or the only salvation she will ever want?
View MoreDanikaThe second I hand her Lev, you die.The sentence sat in the room after he said it. My mouth still tasted like him. The ruined phone still smoked on the floor. Night was the clock Softiya had given us, and we had already spent part of it on our knees and against a wall.Kazimir pulled a spare shirt over my head and then took it off me again ten minutes later because neither of us could plan while we were pretending we were done.“She knows this place now,” I said. “She called it like she had a map.”“She has Maksim’s old pattern. Not this floor. Not for long.” He spread a paper map on the table anyway. Docks. Estate. The medical wing. Lines he had drawn in pencil before I ever knew his real name. “We do not go to Lev. We go to the men who move him.”“That still sounds like you hunting my father.”“It sounds like me stopping her from getting to him first.” He looked at me. “There is a difference.”“Tell me the difference while you are not inside me.”He almost smiled. It died. He
DanikaSoftiya’s face was still on the cracked screen.Kazimir had not pulled out. He was still inside me, still holding me against the wall, the phone in his free hand like the call was just another gun. Softiya smiled that soft smile she used in the medical wing when she asked if I had eaten.“Put some clothes on, child,” she said. “This does not need to be ugly.”I wanted to cover myself. I did not. Kazimir’s arm tightened around my hips and kept me there, joined to him, while my grandmother looked at us.“You have a choice, Kazimir Ignat Vanechka.” She said his real name like she had been saving it. “Bring me Lev’s head. The Vanechka ground comes back to you. The accounts. The old docks. No more hunting. Danika returns to the house unharmed. I give you my word.”“Your word,” I said. My voice came out raw. “You put a hit on me.”“I put a lesson on a family that forgot what blood costs.” Her eyes moved to my mouth, then lower, then back to Kazimir. “You can keep the girl in your bed
DanikaMaksim’s emergency signal was still screaming when we ran.Kazimir dragged the blackout curtain aside, checked the alley with the pistol raised, and then we were moving. No time for the clothes we had never fully put back on. He threw a spare coat around my bare shoulders, shoved his own boots onto my feet, and pulled me down the exterior stair into a different stolen vehicle—an older panel van with scavenged plates that Maksim had staged three streets over as a last-resort option. The second the doors closed he threw it into gear and cut into the early-morning industrial traffic without lights.His hand never left my body.I was half in his lap in the back of the windowless cargo area, the coat open, my bare skin sticking to the cold metal wall of the van. Kazimir drove with one hand and kept the other locked between my thighs—two thick fingers buried inside me to the last knuckle, thumb pressing exact circles over my clit. The same relentless, controlled rhythm he had used on
DanikaHe did not flinch.The muzzle of the pistol sat flat against the center of his chest, directly over his heart, and Kazimir Ignat Vanechka—last heir of the bloodline my father had erased—simply looked at me and answered. His cock was still buried inside me to the hilt. My thighs were still locked around his hips. Tears from the previous round had dried on my temples. The gun did not move him even a fraction of an inch.“I placed the hit,” he said. His voice was quiet and absolute. “I watched you for three years. And the second I saw you smile at a stranger on the street I knew I would burn my revenge before I let anyone else touch you.”The confession landed harder than any of the thrusts that had come before it. I kept the gun where it was and stared into the ice-blue eyes of the man who had once planned to end me and had instead spent years protecting me in secret. Rage and relief and a fierce, unwilling tenderness twisted together so tightly I could not tell them apart. He ha
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