Page 25 of Sinful Embers

Instead, I raise my voice, knowing they’re listening. "I need a notepad and something to write with."

Maybe if I start jotting things down, I can track my memories.

Or keep a countdown to the day I’m supposed to get my period.

A few minutes later, the door slides open again. The same small woman from before shuffles inside, carrying a pile of clothes—orange, pink, and blue scrubs.

Great. My new prison wardrobe.

She places them on the table, then reaches into her apron pocket. Slowly, she pulls out a notepad and a pencil.

She shows them to me. "You ask," she says in a thick Russian accent.

Her voice is carefully neutral. But there’s something in her eyes. Something hesitant.

I frown.

She hesitates for only a second before setting the notepad on the table. "Tea will come soon," she adds quickly. Then, before I can respond, she turns and wheels the trolley away.

Intrigued, I walk to the table and pick up the notepad.

The first page is already flipped open.

My breath catches.

There’s a message.

Neatly written, in careful handwriting:You are in Russia.

A cold shiver rushes down my spine.

Russia.

I grip the edge of the table as the reality crashes into me.

Not in the U.S. Not even close.

How the hell is Radomir supposed to find me now?

Chapter 8

RADOMIR

The nameTimir Midrichonstares back at me from Sabrina’s murder board, but the anagram still churns in my gut like a bad omen—what it spells out is circled in red a dozen times—Dmitri Mirochin. My fucking uncle.

Jesus.Dmitri is the Ice Man?If he is, then Leigh is in his hands.

The rage in my chest is a slow-burning fire, curling through my veins, threatening to consume me. But I force myself to stay fucking calm.Focus. Because fury won’t bring Leigh home. Only strategy will.

I rake a hand through my hair, taking deep breaths as I feel the rage dissipate.

Fuck, I truly hope it’s not him—that he’s dead. Because if he’s alive and working with Nikolas’s deranged cousin, Carlos, then Nikolas is right. This isn’t just a vendetta—it’s a calculated move to seize more power than men like them should ever have.

"I’d love to know what their endgame actually is," I mutter.

"They want to take over the goddamn world!" Sabrina huffs, shaking her head.

“Come on. Even for a Bratva psychopath, that sounds far-fetched.” I snort.

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