Page 16 of Dark Possession
But there is nothing kind about it.
CHAPTER SIX
Lev
“I’LL GIVE YOU a million,” Sergei repeats.
“No.” I take Alina by the arm and direct her to the bar, signaling the bartender for two drinks. No espresso tonight.
I only have to count to forty before Sergei appears at my shoulder.
He leans against the bar, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his eyes locked on to Alina like a predator sighting prey. His smirk is slow, deliberate, as if he’s already won. When he speaks, his voice drips with casual malice.
“She’s stunning, Lev. I’ll make it easy for you—name your price.”
A flicker of heat coils in my chest, slow and smoldering. My jaw tightens. “She’s not for sale.”
He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. “Everything is for sale, Lev. You know that better than anyone. Hand her over, and we can discuss an arrangement about that turf you’ve been sniffing around.”
The room stills around me, the weight of his words sinking in. My mask of composure slips for barely a second, but he catches it. I see the satisfaction in his eyes.
Rats. I should’ve known.
Sergei leans in, his voice a taunt wrapped in silk. “I have eyes and ears everywhere. I knew your move before you made it.”
He’s baiting me, and it’s working. The sting of being outplayed lingers, but my attention shifts to Alina. For the first time, I see her differently—not as leverage, not as a means to an end, but as something more. More valuable. More dangerous.
I turn back to him, my voice like a blade. “She’s not for sale.”
He studies me, the silence between us stretching before he tips his glass in my direction and takes a slow drink. Dismissal.
Keeping her works better for me. Maybe on a subconscious level, that’s why I bought her. I could lie to myself, pretend it was about strategy, about cutting Sergei off before he could sink his claws into her—but that wouldn’t be the full truth.
I saw the way he looked at Alina. That wasn’t just about the purchase. It was possession. Obsession. He wanted to own her. But now I do.
It’s going to eat at him.
My grip tightens around Alina’s arm as I steer her through the crowd. She doesn’t resist, but I feel the tension in her muscles, the way her pulse hammers beneath my fingers. She’s afraid. Good. Fear keeps people compliant. Fear makes them predictable.
Eyes track us as we move—some curious, others wary. I ignore them. Let them wonder. Let them make their assumptions. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is getting her away from here.
The limo door barely clicks shut before silence swallows us whole. It stretches between us, thick and suffocating, pressing against my skin like a second layer. Outside, the city blurs past in streaks of neon and shadow, but my mind is elsewhere.
Sergei knew I was hunting him, which means someone close to me is talking.
I file that away, letting the anger simmer just beneath the surface. Alina shifts beside me, restless. I can feel her watching me, weighing her next move.
I finally break the silence, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Why were you at the auction?”
She exhales sharply. “I already told you. I needed the money.”
I turn my head, studying her. She meets my gaze, but there’s a flicker of unease in her eyes. She’s lying—if not about the reason, then about the extent of it.
“You didn’t tell me what for,” I press, keeping my voice low, deliberate. “And don’t tell me ‘things.’”
Her fingers twist in her lap, a small movement, but a tell nonetheless. She hesitates…too long.
Then, finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was to pay off some bratva men. My sister owes them money.”
