Page 8 of Tarnished Reign

I tell myself this is just following orders. Keeping this woman for a while is only doing what I must. It’s merely in line with what I promised Jacob.

I bargain with myself until I’m denying reality and bending it to fit my will.

Two years ago I was saving lives, and now I’m taking them. That’s one way I’ve tarnished my legacy; keeping a fucking hostage would burn that legacy to the ground.

And yet, here I am, finding ways to deny the reality of what I want to do and justifying it until I’m blue in the face.

After all, Jacob told me to make a show of taking the yacht and Dorian’s women, and I’m now heir to his throne. I’m a part of his court now. No longer a soldier for good but a soldier for my Pakhan’s dark reign.

This is simply a new version of good versus bad, or so I like to think. We’re the good guys in this, and Dorian and his crew are the baddies. Simple. Black and white. A tale as old as time.

Good versus evil.

Nice and easy.

I can keep the girl and be a hero.

I can keep the girl and send a strong message not to fuck with us, too. There isn’t only our cartel who are fighting these fuckers; the Greeks in Athens also have beef with them and are discussing taking them down with their operation. This is what Jacob should have done a long time ago, the scorched earth part.

Dorian paid a million dollars for this woman, so really, I should keep her as a message. To let her go would be lax, and I do hate sloppy work.

See? Logic.

Plus, she won’t be safe. If I let her go, the ragtag remnants of Dorian’s crew who are still in the city will be a threat to her. As will whoever the fuck sold her.

Until we’ve cleaned up the streets entirely, my little blue here is a walking, talking target.

Keeping her is a bona fide act of fucking charity.

Her mouth looks sore around the corners, and it sparks a strange tug in my chest. A long, dormant tenderness. Careful not to scare her, I reach forward gently and take the gag out.

She starts making noise immediately. Crying, hiccupping, begging and saying things that make no fucking sense.

I shake my head and put my fingers to my lips. “Don’t make me put it back in, little blue.”

She snaps her mouth shut, her lips a tight line of obedience. She doesn’t argue, or ask questions, or continue talking. She simply goes quiet and still. It’s this moment of utter submission, while at the very same time her terrified, wide eyes narrow just a little as defiance sparks in them that seals her fate.

Little blue did what I told her, but she hated the order, and she has the will to do battle still sparking in her. Anyone who can still have some fight in them after the ordeal she’s been through is an incredible person. Strong, deep down. Intriguing.

My gaze roams over her face, thinking I could never get bored of it. She’ll still be beautiful at sixty. Those eyes won’t dim.

Yuri clears his throat and repeats his question. “Shall I take her up on deck to go on the tender back to shore?”

Without looking away from her, I shake my head. “No. Leave her with me.”

“Boss? You okay?” Yuri sounds worried now. As well he might be. This behavior is not remotely usual for me.

“Perfectly,” I answer.

I reach out and brush a damp lock of silky dark hair from her face, which allows me to see her high cheekbones better.

“Exquisite.” My moment of admiration is interrupted by another throat clearing from fucking Yuri.

“Go.” I snap my fingers. “Take the trafficked girls to the shore. Keep the girlfriends of Dorian’s men here if you manage to find any. Tell Alexis I need him with me when he’s handed Mila over, as he will need to take some pictures of the men partying on the yacht.”

“God, you ruin all our fun,” Jinx says with a cheeky grin, seemingly over his half choking already. He’s built like a tank and as thick as the doors on one, too.

He’s lucky I’m so intrigued by the woman on the bed that I’ll let that go.

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