Page 25 of Shadows of Obsession

I can't hold back the tears anymore, and I hear myself laugh - a sound that scares even me.

“You won't see another cent from me. Try anything else and we'll handle this at the police station.”

I turn to open the door, so damn tired of his games.

The pain explodes through my skull before I realize he's hit me. My hand scrapes the wall, searching for balance,but everything's spinning. His last words echo as darkness swallows me.

“Go to the police. See what kind of monster you've turned me into.”

My eyes snap open.Just a memory. Too bad memories can drag you under just as easily as reality, leaving you gasping for air.

But as anxiety sinks its claws into my chest, I see those storm-gray eyes, anchoring me. One breath...two...until the panic subsides.

I stare at my hands. I know it's impossible, but I swear I can still feel warmth spreading from where he touched me in that office.

What in God's name have you gotten yourself into, Luna?

Chapter 13

?

Roman

The wind outside cuts into my face, but I feel nothing. I can't shake the expression on Luna’s face when I told her to keep quiet about what happened. She understood immediately what I meant, and that's exactly what's eating at me.

Someone put that understanding in her eyes, taught her that fear. And all I want is to find whoever did it and make them feel that same terror right down to their marrow. People think you can't die from fear - I've got ways to prove them wrong.

Then there's that kiss. Her lips are branded on mine like a burning memory. Never saw the point of kissing before, with other women. But with Luna? One taste feels like starvation.

I wasn't lying when I told her she'd be the one begging next time. Because there will be a next time - I'll make damn sure of it.

The warehouse door creaks open, Anton nodding toward our 'guest.' These facilities are built smartly - if cops ever come sniffing around, they'll find exactly what the paperwork shows: just supplies for our clubs and restaurants.

In the back, however, there's a trapdoor leading to a basement. The floor is so thick you could literally leave a corpse rotting down there and nobody would smell it. And we've tested that theory so we're prepared for any unforeseen circumstances.

The trapdoor only reads specific prints - mine, Niko's, and a select few soldiers I trust. In this business, trust has to be absolute.

Every man has his price, though. Even my most loyal guys, the ones who'd catch a bullet for me - they've got families. Push the right buttons, threaten the right people, and hearts win over loyalty. That's why the smart ones come to me first. I can fix anything if I know it's coming.

The warmth hits me first - just two bulbs casting yellow light down here. Suffocating.

"Please, it's not what you think. I never meant-" Tim's voice breaks as he thrashes in his chains, feet dangling above concrete.

I shrug off my jacket, toss it on a chair, and start unbuttoning my shirt against the heat. I see the exact moment his eyes catch the scar climbing up my neck - the one my suits usually hide. I want him to understand he's not dealing with CEO Borisov anymore. He's face-to-face with the Chicago pakhan, and tonight, I'm not feeling generous.

"Who wants the prototype?"

No point dancing around this. I heard what I heard, and I know what it means. How long he drags this out, how many lies he tells - that just buys him extra hours of pain. Because one thing's certain: he's not walking out of here alive.

“No one, I swear! I was drunk, it was stupid, just my idea,” he sobs.

His subconscious must know he's already dead, but he's still clinging to that last thread of hope, praying I'll buy this drunk-talk story.

My phone buzzes - Lev with the background check I ordered on Tim. Something about this guy's been off from the start. Reading Lev's message, I feel my demon start to laugh.

?

While taking some tools out of the cabinet, I try to figure out how long I'll need to extract all the information from him. By the way he's shaking and sobbing, I give him thirty minutes before he's telling me his first grade teacher's home address.

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