Page 27 of Throttle All the Way

“We need to bring in Sabrina Wellchild,” Aiyana said, rising to her feet. “She runs Illicit and knows these girls better than anyone. If anyone can tell us who might be targeting them, it’s her.”

“Set it up,” I said, my tone clipped. “I want in on the questioning.”

“The FBI will need to be communicated. We’re running an investigation that could potentially fuck over theirs. If we don’t bring them in they’ll barge in.”

“Fuck,” I uttered. “If we have to then let’s do it, but after we speak to Wellchild.”

Seated back in my truck,my mind drifted to the night before. Mila—wild, unbroken Mila. She’d burned herself into my skin, her touch leaving marks deeper than any scar. The way she looked at me, daring me to cross a line I couldn’t uncross, had been both infuriating and addictive.

She was mine. She didn’t know what that entailed, but I’d make sure she knew exactly it meant to be a Bastard’s woman.

Last night, I’d seen something raw in her, something that mirrored the chaos in my own soul. She fought me at every turn, but there was a part of her that surrendered. And fuck if I didn’t want to be the one she gave in to.

But now, with another body in the morgue and Yulian Volkovgrowing bolder, the danger to her was becoming more real. I’d sworn to protect her, even if it meant going to war with everyone who stood in my way.

The two-hour driveto Seattle stretched out in tense silence, the air inside the car suffocating as the storm clouds gathered in the distance. By the time we pulled into the city, the weight of what awaited us pressed heavy on my chest.

Sabrina Wellchild's office was a far cry from the seductive allure of Illicit. It was a cold, sterile cage of glass and steel, every detail sharp and designed to strip away comfort and leave you exposed. It mirrored the woman herself—powerful, unyielding, and deadly precise.

She sat across from Aiyana and me, her presence filling the room like a coiled cobra watching its prey. Her eyes were weapons, dark and calculating, cutting through every movement, every unsaid word as if she could carve out our intentions with a glance. Yet, beneath that ruthless façade, I saw it—the crack in her armor. Her jaw was tight, her fingers resting a fraction too still on the pristine desk, betraying the unease she fought to bury.

Sabrina was a woman who thrived on control, who wielded power like a scalpel. No amount of expensive perfume and richjewels could hide the shadow of something darker lurking in her expression—fear, perhaps, or the weight of secrets that could crush her if they ever escaped.

“My girls are disappearing,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “This isn’t just bad for business; it’s personal. They’re my responsibility.”

“And yet you’ve done nothing to protect them,” Aiyana said, her tone icy.

Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to know what I’ve done. Illicit is as secure as I can make it without drawing the wrong kind of attention. But this…” She gestured toward the file Aiyana had laid out, the photos of the victims. “This is something else entirely.”

“We need names,” I said, cutting through the tension. “Anyone who’s been frequenting your club, anyone who’s shown interest in these girls.”

Sabrina hesitated, her polished façade cracking slightly. “We do not give out client’s names. They pay for discretion.”

“This isn’t about discretion,” I leaned forward. “This is about murder.”

She paused before nodding. “There is one name…Tommy Lingdale. He’s been circling my girls for weeks, and now this? If it’s not him, it has to do with him.”

“And Mila Stepanovich?” I asked, watching her closely. “What do you know about her?”

Sabrina’s eyes darkened. “What do you know about Mila?”

“That’s none of your concern. But I do need you to enlighten me as to how she fell into your grasp.”

Sabrina leaned forward in her chair, pressing a manicured fingernail down onto her desk as she spoke. “Mila is under my protection. She’s… special. Her father saved me once, years ago. I owe him my life, and Mila’s safety is my way of repaying that debt. If you think for a second I’ll let anything happen to her…”Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’ll have to go through me, first.”

“Then why is she in danger?” Aiyana demanded. “If you’re so invested in her safety, why is she on the run? Why isn’t she with you?”

Sabrina sighed, the weight of her secrets pressing down on her. “Because Mila doesn’t want to be caged. She’s stubborn, headstrong, and fiercely independent. I tried to keep her close, but she slipped away. And now, with that monster hunting her…” She trailed off, her expression grim.

“Which monster are you speaking of, Ms. Wellchild?” I asked.

Her eyes turned toward the window. Outside was dark, and it had started to rain. Drops of water trickled down the glass as she spoke. “You know nothing of the monster you’re trying to track. Yulian Volkov is beyond dangerous. He’s cruel, and when he sets his eyes on you, you’re as good as dead.”

“How is it he hasn’t dug his claws into you. Illicit is right up his alley.”

She turned that icy stare on me. Conviction shone in her tone. “What I do here is legal. I do not need young girls to satisfy my clients. Every one of them gets run through a background check, non-disclosure agreements are signed, and every one of my clients is clear on the fact that my girls are not to be hurt.”

“So you’re saying you never had dealings with Yulian Volkov?”

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