Page 20 of The Russian Retribution

This close, I can see even the finer details of her eyes. In all my time admiring her from afar, I never noticed the dark-green flecks in her irises that melt into the lighter green and give her eyes a unique glittering effect.

It’s beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

My heart gives a sudden powerful thump beneath my chest, and I tear my gaze away, focusing on the rising bruising around her throat. These kinds of thoughts are dangerous, especially about Anastasia.

She’s my boss.

Worse than that, she’s my target. Viktor would feed my balls to the hounds if he knew I found anything even remotely appealing about her.

Lowering my hands, I press both sets of fingers to either side of her jaw. Anastasia obediently lifts her head and exposes the dark shadow of bruising forming around her throat. There’s a darker streak in the middle of her neck where that bastard’s thumbs were digging deep enough to cause serious injury. The sight of it heats my blood, and the urge to pound his face into a pulp rises with each passing second.

“How does it feel to swallow?”

“Sore,” Anastasia replies tightly. “But I can handle it.”

I hate that. She shouldn’t have to handle it. He never should have gotten his hands on her, but yet again, I failed in my duty to protect her. These injuries are marks against my name, wounds of my failure. I tenderly brush over the bruises, examining her with what little medical experience I have. Her skin is soft to the touch and as warm as the first bursts of sun on a hot summer's day.

“See?” Anastasia lowers her chin and our eyes meet once more. “I’m fine.”

I can’t tell if it’s wishful thinking or my imagination that her pulse jumps beneath my fingers when our eyes meet, but I feel the ghost of that sensation when she steps away from me, and my hands fall back to my sides.

“We should take you to the hospital to be sure.”

“Not now.” Anastasia snatches up the hammer from the table. “I’m not finished.”

Admiration warms my chest while I watch her return to the bound and bloodied man. Never in a million years would I have suspected that the ice princess was capable of getting her hands dirty, but the evidence is undeniable. Under her instruction, we brought her attacker to a warehouse off the main road, and we’ve spent the past two hours simply breaking him down.

She’s gotten her revenge three times over for what he did to her, and still, she wants more. Watching her work is a thing of beauty, and when I questioned her after she broke all ten of his fingers with ease, she explained that being left to her own devices as a teen was how she learned. In a bid to impress her father, she read up on countless forms of torture from all over the world and practiced on a few rogue goons who made their way into her path.

She’s methodical and calm, which strikes up an alarming contrast to the man screaming himself raw as she peels back the skin on his thigh and pours another few drops of her perfume into the wound.

I don’t ever want to get on her bad side.

It’s admirable how well this man is taking the torture, but everyone has a breaking point. He finds his ten minutes later when she shreds his underwear and threatens to pulverize his cock into meat.

“Alright!” he screeches, his voice raw and wrecked. “Alright! Please! Stop, stop, you fucking maniac.”

“That’s not very nice,” I say as I walk closer. “You should speak to her with more respect.”

“Manners cost nothing,” Anastasia agrees, wiping away a bead of sweat from her forehead.

“Whatever!” The man gasps desperately. “I did it! I caused the explosion and I started the fire.”

“No shit,” Anastasia scoffs, and she moves closer, then drops down to her haunches in front of him and taps the hammer against his bloodied knee. “This is the moment you tell me something new.”

“L–Like what?”

Anastasia sighs. “If I knew that, then it wouldn’t be something new, would it? Is this really the kind of people they send after me?” She shoots me an amused look, and my heart jumps.

“Let’s start with who hired you,” I prompt. “Got a name?”

“Nah.” The man gasps and rapidly shakes his head. “I just got hired. They sent me two-fifty and a picture. Told me to make it look like an accident.”

“Bringing down a building is a pretty big accident,” Anastasia remarks.

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” He whimpers. “Big area, lots of damage. Lots of people get hurt. Easier to believe that it’s an accident.”

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