Page 75 of Sadistic

Two words and my face is flaming.

I think about last night, about his hands on my skin, his voice in my ear calling me good girl in an entirely different context.

Me:

Goodnight Doran.

Doran:

Sweet dreams, little wolf.

I curl up in bed, very aware that somewhere out there, Njal is spiraling while Doran is probably reviewing surveillance footage of my building.

My life has become a careful balance between danger and protection, between choice and arrangement.

Ten days until I become Revna Volkov.

Ten days to figure out if what I feel for Doran is real or just Stockholm syndrome with really good sex.

Ten days to hope Njal doesn't do something we'll all regret.

But tonight, in this apartment with my sister singing off-key in the shower and the familiar sounds of Jacksonville outside my window, I can almost pretend things are normal.

Almost.

The last thing I see before closing my eyes is that black sedan still parked across the street, guardian angels in expensive suits making sure the big bad wolf doesn't come knocking.

Or maybe making sure this little wolf doesn't run.

Either way, I'm not alone.

I'm never alone anymore.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Doran

Blood spreads across the concrete floor like spilled wine, dark and damning in the fluorescent lights of the warehouse.

The man kneeling in front of me—Bogdan Krupin—whimpers through broken teeth, his hands zip-tied behind his back.

"Twenty percent," I say calmly, wiping his blood from my knuckles. "You skimmed twenty percent of our shipment."

"I needed—my daughter, she's sick?—"

"Then you should have asked." I pull out my gun, check the chamber. "I'm not unreasonable, Bogdan. But stealing from me? That's unreasonable."

My father watches from the corner, arms crossed, evaluating.

Always evaluating.

Even now, years into running my own operations, he observes like I'm still that boy learning to break fingers in the basement of our old house.

"Please," Bogdan begs. "I'll pay it back. Double."

"With what? You already spent it on medical bills that don't exist." I crouch in front of him. "Your daughter's in college. Pre-law, isn't it? Following in daddy's footsteps before he decided to become a thief."

His face goes white.

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