All Chapters of Sins of the Vor’s Daughter : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

DanikaThe door finished splintering and Kazimir opened fire.He shoved me hard behind the overturned bed frame with one hand and emptied the fresh magazine he had somehow slammed home in the dark with the other. The first muzzle flash lit the cabin in violent white. Two of Softiya’s men dropped instantly—one in the doorway with the back of his helmet blown out, the second halfway across the threshold with a dark hole where his right eye had been. The smell of cordite and blood and cold pine flooded the small space. My bare knees scraped the floorboards. The torn remains of the gown were still tangled around one thigh. His come and his blood still painted the inside of my legs from the interrupted moment on the bed.A third shooter returned fire from outside.The bullet grazed Kazimir across the top of the shoulder in a bright, hot line that sprayed blood across the wall behind him. He did not slow. He put two more rounds through the open doorway, grabbed my wrist hard enough to grind

DanikaKazimir deleted the message with one blood-streaked thumb and then his control snapped.The grandmother knows about the three years. She has the original files.He flipped us in one powerful motion that pulled a raw sound from his injured side, pinned my wrists to the cold concrete above my head, and drove into me harder than he had ever taken me before. The slow, almost reverent pace from minutes earlier was gone. This was pure punishment—against the exposure, against Softiya, against every year he had spent in the dark watching me while she apparently watched him back. Every thrust bottomed out with brutal force. The fresh sutures under his ribs had to be screaming. Blood from the shoulder graze dripped onto my chest. He did not care. He fucked me like he could outrun the truth with his body alone.I met every thrust.My nails dug into the muscle of his shoulders hard enough to break skin. The pain only seemed to drive him deeper. I locked my legs around his waist and lifted

DanikaThe drone footage left no room for discussion.Ruslan’s team was already on the rooftops and in the alley mouths. Six hours had collapsed into minutes. Maksim shoved a spare pistol into Kazimir’s hand, kicked open the rear exit of the safe house, and the three of us moved. The stolen car—an unremarkable dark sedan Maksim had staged three blocks south—was waiting with the engine running. Kazimir pushed me into the passenger seat, climbed behind the wheel, and tore away from the curb as the first muzzle flashes lit the rearview mirror.Bullets sparked off the trunk and the rear quarter panel before we cleared the block.Kazimir drove one-handed.His other hand locked between my thighs without warning, shoved the torn remnants of the gown aside, and buried two thick fingers inside me to the last knuckle. I choked on the sudden stretch and the wet sound it made. He kept them there, pumping in a deep, relentless rhythm that matched the high-speed turns, while the industrial outskirt

DanikaHe kept the promise.The hidden apartment had nothing but a bare mattress on a low metal frame, a chair, a sink, and walls thick enough to stop most surveillance. Kazimir stripped what remained of my gown the rest of the way off, laid me down on the mattress, and followed me down with his body. The fresh sutures under his ribs pulled when he braced himself above me. Blood had already seeped through the gauze on his shoulder. He did not seem to notice. He pushed my thighs wide, lined himself up, and sank into me in one slow, deep thrust that forced a broken sound from both of us.Then he started talking.“It was winter,” he said, voice low and controlled even as he began to move. “Seventeen years old. The house was outside the city, wood-burning heat, the kind of place my father thought was safe because it did not look like money.” He pulled back almost all the way and pushed in again to the hilt, the thick length of him stretching me open with deliberate force. “They came at th

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