Page 39 of Kristoff

I pull one ass cheek to the side and line up the tip of my knife to his clenched ass hole. He’s still hollering over losing his cock, I’m not sure if he even realizes what’s coming next.

“Shhhh,” I say soothingly. “Shhh, Matvei. Almost done.” He stills for a moment, like he’s trying to hear me, trying to figure out what’s next. And he does, as my knife slowly begins to enter his ass.

“No!” He bucks again, but it’s no use. I had planned to go slow, but he’s getting annoying, so I shove the knife up into him.

“Does that feel good, Matvei?” I ask, reminding myself of how scared Magdalena must have been. How much pain he and his friends brought her. I twist the knife and pull downward, toward his dismembered cock. The knife tears him apart, his balls are ripped open and blood splatters over my boots.

I wait for him to stop shouting and collapse into his binds. He probably still has a pulse, but not for long. I remove my knife, wiping it on his shirt until it’s clean and step back.

Lifeless, he dangles from his binds.

I step out of the room, signaling one of my men to clean up the mess. I have three more rooms to play in. I sheath my knife and roll my shoulders. It’s going to be a long morning.

18

SixMonths Later…

The beat of the music mirrors my heart pounding in my chest. It’s not my first time at The Dungeon, my favorite play space in New York. I’ve been here every week over the past two months. There’s no reason for my nerves to be so on edge.

It’s been six months since I woke up in that damn hospital bed. Alone and scared.

Physically, I’m all healed. It’s the rest of me that’s fucked up.

Kristoff abandoned me - threw me away.

His men tried to explain things the way he’d told them to, I’m sure. He’s paid for an apartment, that I won’t stay in. He’s hired the best therapist in New York for me, who I won’t speak to. And he’s taken care of all my sister’s estate issues leaving me with an overflowing bank account - which I won’t touch.

I didn’t lose a sister when his knife penetrated her heart, I’d lost her years ago. I don’t know everything; the government doesn’t like to admit it when one of their own goes off the grid and joins a human trafficking ring. I learned everything I needed to know when I got my hands on her laptop. She’d joined up with Andrei over a year ago. Just when the investigation turned to focus elsewhere. How convenient.

Kristoff had been right about the trust fund. On my twenty-fifth birthday, I will gain full access to it. But he was wrong about the amount. Interest compounds and it’s been sitting there for ten years. It’s close to five million now, and I’ll have it in another month.

When I questioned the attorney in charge of the funds, why I hadn’t been notified when I turned eighteen, he didn’t have an answer. Danuta knew who to pay off.

Officially, Danuta was killed while investigating Andrei Dowidoff - who had been killed by one of his own men. Matvei’s picture had been plastered between Danuta and Andrei’s in the NY Times. While my sister was being touted as a hero, I was piecing my life back together.

“Hey, Mags,” Bobby, a Dominant I played with casually before, says. Before Kristoff. Before everything.

“Hi.” I force a smile. We’ve played several times over the past weeks, and I’m looking forward to tonight. He promised a hard session, and I’m going to hold him to it. I need the bite of pain and he’s been holding back, afraid I wasn’t ready. He doesn’t know anything about what happened in England. But he thinks the death of my sister is taking me a while to work out.

His brown eyes dart toward the lobby. “Did you make plans tonight?”

“I don’t have any plans,” I insist. “If you want to play with someone else, that’s fine—”

“No, it’s not that.” He looks over my outfit - a short cut black dress and bites his lip. “No, it’s not that at all. But there’s a guy at the entrance looking for you.”

I turn to see what he’s pointing at.

Dr. Morrow.

My stomach flips. Something’s happened to Kristoff.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Bobby asks in that protective tone of his that used to get me wet just listening to. But, like everything else we’ve done over the past weeks, it’s not enough.

“No. I know him. He’s a friend. I’ll just talk to him real quick and come back.” I keep my eyes locked on Dr. Morrow and leave Bobby standing near the bar.

Dr. Morrow cracks a gentle smile when I approach him.

“Sorry, Magdalena, he’s not vetted,” John, the guard at the door, tells me.

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