Page 14 of Wicked Embers

“Now you grow a fucking conscience?” Gavriil growls at Mark. “You’ve already tossed her into the wolves’ den to save your own skin.”

“That’s not what I did!” Mark roars, shocking both Gavriil and me. His mask slips, and for a fleeting moment, I see it: the calculating, ruthless man behind the veneer of cowardice. But just as quickly, it’s gone. He slumps again, hands trembling. Mark’s gaze flickers with guilt before he blurts out, “She’s pure... untouched. A virgin.”

Time freezes. His words sink into my mind like razor-sharp claws, ripping through my thoughts with their implications. My chest tightens as an unfamiliar possessiveness surges through me. A virgin? Leigh—fiery, defiant Leigh—untouched. Unclaimed. The thought is intoxicating as my want of her grows into something the likes I’ve never felt for another woman before and the power of it is dangerous.

I school my expression, refusing to let Mark see how his confession has affected me.

Gavriil lets out a low whistle, his disgust palpable. “You really are a fucking bastard,” he mutters to Mark. “Selling your own daughter, knowing—“ He doesn’t finish the thought, shaking his head in disbelief. “How would you even know something like that?”

“She has never had a boyfriend, not serious anyway. Leigh has dated a few times but never the same guy twice, and she’s never let it getthatfar,“ Mark says.

“Maybe she just hid it from you?” Gavriil points out. “I know I would never trust you with anything.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. “Her best friend confirmed it.”

“What the fuck!” Gavriil hisses. “You asked her best friend? That’s fucked up.”

“No, I did not.” Mark looks at him like he’s mad. “Sabrina’s mother overheard them talking a few days ago.”

“Oh! A nosy parker mother!” Gavriil looks even more disgusted as he has a nosy Parker aunt—my mother. “Why would she tell you that?”

“We’re old friends!” Mark shrugs. “Regardless, my daughter is an innocent.” He turns to me almost pleadingly.

“I don’t care one way or the other. This changes nothing.” I rise to my full height, towering over Mark’s slumped figure. “Leigh is mine now—no longer your problem. But if you’re so desperate to make amends, there is something else you can tell me.”

Mark looks up, his eyes reflecting his torment. “What?”

“The Greek matriarch,” I reply, watching him closely.

To my surprise, he doesn’t flinch. No panic, no fear. It’s just a flicker of curiosity. It’s unsettling. Most men would rather face death than breathe her name, but Mark? He barely reacts.

I lean forward, ready to press him harder, but a knock at the door cuts through the tension like a blade. Viktor steps inside, his face unreadable. He leans close, speaking quietly. “You’re needed in the dungeon. There’s something you need to hear.”

I grit my teeth, irritated by the interruption. But Viktor wouldn’t dare disturb me unless it was important. “Stay here,” I bark at Mark, then nod to Gavriil. “Let’s go.”

As we step out of the office, Gavriil’s voice is low and laced with anger. “You don’t have to do this to Leigh, Rad.”

“I’m helping her escape her loser father, aren’t I? And I’m setting her up in a life of luxury,” I reply sharply, the edge in my tone unmistakable.

“A gilded cage, you mean,” he hisses, his blue-green eyes blazing. “For fuck’s sake, Rad, she’s an innocent. We don’t hurt innocents. Or did you forget that?”

“I have no intention of hurting Leigh,” I snap back, meeting his fury with cold detachment. “You know how this world works, Gavriil. The children always pay for their parents’ sins. You, of all people, should understand that better than anyone. Because of what Leigh is sacrificing, her father gets to live free of debt. That is the deal.”

“What she’s sacrificing?” He spits the words like venom, his expression twisted with disgust. “You make it sound like she had a choice!”

His words hang heavy in the air, and neither of us speaks for a moment. Then he steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I hope, for your sake, you haven’t just bitten off more than you can chew. Because I’ve seen just howmuch Leigh values her freedom. And trust me, you have no idea what people like us—people whose souls crave freedom—are capable of when someone tries to chain them.”

His words linger long after he turns and walks off, each one striking a chord I’d rather ignore.

When we walk into the basement, Gunner greets us with a grim expression, looking more frustrated than usual. “The boss of this little crew has something to say. We didn’t even have to touch him before he started asking for you.”

Gunner’s voice carries disappointment as he leans against the wall.

“Why don’t you go start trying to extract information from one of the others?” I suggest.

“Because the scrawny demanding one,” Gunner points to the man chained to the cold stone wall, “assured me his men would die before saying a word, and if I harmed a hair on one of their heads, he wouldn’t give up some information he knows you’d want to hear.”

“Ballsy.” My eyes meet the young man’s, and for a moment, I’m taken aback by how young he looks—barely old enough to shave. He’s calm—too calm, which is dangerous. He has that look, though—the one I had when I was thrust into power too young. He’s been molded by something hard. “Who are you?”

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