Todos os capítulos de Sins of the Vor’s Daughter : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

DanikaI stared at the photo until my eyes burned.The angle was clear. Me bent over the fitting bench. Kazimir behind me, one hand covering my mouth, the open back of the black dress framing the exact place where he was buried inside me. Timestamped less than thirty seconds before the seamstress returned. Someone had been watching us in a room that was supposed to be private.Kazimir took one look at the screen and the temperature in the suite dropped.He locked the door, pulled the heavy curtains across the boarded glass, and started tearing the room apart with cold, lethal focus. Every vent. Every light fixture. Every piece of furniture that could hide a lens. I sat on the edge of the bed with the phone still in my hand and watched the professional mask crack into something far more dangerous. This was not the controlled bodyguard who stood behind my chair at breakfast. This was the man who had already killed for less.“You do not leave this room,” he said without looking at me. “N

DanikaI traced the raised edge of the brand with my fingertips first.Kazimir was still buried inside me, chest flush against my back, the cold glass of the balcony door pressing against my breasts. Snow drifted past the floodlights outside in thin, silent sheets. His breathing had gone shallow the moment I touched the mark. Under the thin layer of ink the scar tissue was too deliberate, too evenly burned, too deep. Not a surgical cut. Not an accident. A brand.I turned my head, found the place with my mouth, and dragged my tongue slowly across the raised edge.The sound that left him was raw and broken.His control snapped so hard I felt the exact second it happened in the sudden grip of his hands on my hips. He pulled out of me with a wet sound that made my empty body clench, spun me around like I weighed nothing, and threw me onto the bed in one violent motion. I bounced once on the mattress before he was over me, shoving my thighs wide open with his knees and driving back inside

DanikaHe deleted the message before I was fully awake.I felt the shift in the bed, the quiet vibration of the phone, the controlled stillness that always meant something had reached him from the outside world. By the time I opened my eyes the screen was already dark and his arm was locked around my waist from behind, too tight, too long, like he was trying to prove to himself that I was still solid under his hands.The weight of the double life sat on him like a second skin.I did not ask what the message had said. The way he held me told me enough. His breathing was steady but the muscles in his arm stayed rigid. His face was buried in the back of my neck. Every few seconds his hand flexed against my stomach as if checking that I had not disappeared in the night. The brand on his collarbone pressed against my shoulder blade. The same brand my father’s men had burned into him. The same man who now clung to me like I was the only real thing left in a world full of contracts and clean

DanikaKazimir saw the shadow in the mirror the same second I did.He pulled out of me, shoved himself back into his pants, and was out the door in three long strides. I yanked my sleep shirt down and followed as far as the corridor before he cut a sharp hand through the air, ordering me to stay. Bare feet silent on the runner, he disappeared around the corner toward the east wing at a dead run.No one was caught.He came back twenty minutes later with his jaw locked and his eyes flat with fury. The exterior cameras had a three-minute gap. The interior hallway feed showed only a blurred edge of a dark coat vanishing into a service stairwell that led to four different exits. Whoever had stood outside our door and watched him fuck me against the vanity knew the house as well as we did. Maybe better.The compound felt smaller every hour after that.Kazimir refused to let me walk any corridor alone. He cleared every room twice. Staff were limited again. My father accepted the tighter rest

DanikaThe sniper’s nest stayed on the screen until Kazimir finally shut the feed down.Three days. That was all we had left before the Moscow gala. Three days before the rifle across the street would have a clear line of sight to the entrance I was expected to walk through on my father’s arm. Kazimir’s cock was still inside me, softening, when the full weight of the countdown settled over the small office. He pulled out carefully, fixed my clothes, and then his own, and the silence between us felt heavier than any conversation.He started training me that same night.Close-quarters survival. No guns at first. Hands, elbows, knees, the hard edges of ordinary rooms. He showed me how to break a grip, how to use a wall, how to turn a confined space into a weapon. We worked in the panic room and the empty staff corridor and the cleared floor of the security office. He did not go easy on me. When I failed to twist free he put me on the ground and made me start again. When I hesitated he pr