Page 16 of His Hold

My phone rings. Pavel.

"What?" I snap, rougher than intended.

"Boss wants an update on the Lev situation."

I close my eyes, trying to focus. "Tell him it's handled."

"And the girl? The one who's been following you?"

"She won't be a problem."

"You sure about that?" Pavel's tone suggests doubt.

"I said I handled it." The words come out like ice.

A pause. "Whatever you say, brother."

I end the call and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. I need a drink. Or maybe just to hit something until this ache subsides.

The drive to my apartment is a blur. Inside, I pour three fingers of whiskey, downing it in one burning gulp. It doesn't help. Nothing will, not with her scent still clinging to my clothes, not with the memory of her pulse racing under my palm.

"Stupid," I mutter, pouring another drink. "Fucking stupid."

The alcohol burns, but it can't erase the truth: I want her. Not just to break her or control her—though God knows I want that too—but to possess her completely. To own every breath, every sound, every shiver.

My phone buzzes again. A text from an unknown number:

You think threatening me will stop me? Try harder.

I laugh, harshly, realizing this girl’s got bite. I wonder how she got my number. Well, it wouldn’t be too hard for someone who‘s good at finding out things like she does.

I knew she wouldn't back down. That's what makes her dangerous and irresistible.

I type back: Keep pushing. See what happens.

Her response is immediate: I'm not afraid of you.

You should be.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Finally: why did you let me live?

I stare at the screen, the question hitting closer to home than I'd like. Why did I? The smart move would have been to eliminate the threat. Instead, I'd gotten distracted by soft skin and fierce eyes.

Don't mistake mercy for weakness, I reply. Next time won't end the same.

There won't be a next time. I'll find what I'm looking for before then.

I smile despite myself. Sweet dreams, Katya. Watch your back.

Setting the phone down, I walk to the window. Somewhere out there, she's plotting her next move, probably cursing my name.

But as I stand there, watching the night deepen, I know I'm lying to myself. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. And the next time we meet, I might not have the strength to let her go.

Chapter 5

Katya

I push through the last mile, my feet pounding against the pavement in a stable rhythm as morning light breaks over the city. It’s still early—barely seven—but the city’s already alive, cars honking, people rushing to make something of their day.

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