Page 23 of Devotion

The fire. Rage.

Like a mirror of my own anger.

Before I can blink, Ciro flies forward, sweeping the feet out from under one, chopping a stiff hand across his throat on the way down, cartwheeling over the unconscious body and into a backflip. Right over the second man.

Landing behind the stunned fighter, Ciro locks an arm around his neck in a heartbeat, shooting forward with all his might to drive my man in front like a human shield, blocking out Skanda’s rush and tripping up another heavy on the right.

Using his momentum, Ciro drives the body down face first into the ground, propelling himself into a somersault, straight through the grasping arms of the fourth, landing a solid crunch to Alexi’s nose, dropping him instantly.

Sliding into the dirt sidelong, he catches my eye as I fly past him, my roundhouse kick missing his face by an inch, Skanda’s teeth snapping air where his hand just was.

Artur is on him in a flash, slashing his knives out, too close to avoid. But Ciro flicks a dagger out of thin air, parrying, slicing three times in perfect, rapid succession. Wrist. Wrist. Shoulder, shoulder, ear. Then he slams the pommel of his hilt into Artur’s face, leaping forward and planting both feet into his chest. Soaring back off the colossal brute’s chest, he arcs over my head as I race for his back, my blades nicking the fabric of his jacket.

Boots crunch behind me and I hear a sharp squeal from Skanda as I wheel around. Only to choke as a vice grip takes me at the throat, lifting me off the ground.

I hang, gasping for a moment, wide-eyed as I take in the scene, helpless.

All four of my guys are rolling, groaning. None dead. But he could have. Easily. And my rottweiler lies on the ground, pinned under Ciro’s heel at the neck, his collar twisted around the toe of the boot.

That’s when I see it, the shaking in his chest, the wild grin plastered across his face. This is the Shakal.

“Ciro.” I manage to raise an eyebrow, pretending not to be shaken by his cold stare and the apparent indifference to my discomfort.

His eyes blink suddenly, like he’s snapping back to the present, and he sets me down, very gently, swallowing hard. His lips still twitch into a faint smile, his breath coming in soft shudders that might be a terrifying laugh.

“I-I’m—” Ciro looks away.

But I grab him, turning him roughly, forcing him to look at me with a stiff hand at his cheek.

“No. Never apologize for being what you are. For doing what you were made for,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. The faint smile pulling at my lips is impossible to hide.

This man is a fucking masterpiece.

And I should not be so fucking turned on right now.

Which is why I spend the rest of every day staying as far from him as I can over the next week. Assigning other lieutenants to train with him and take him out on scouting missions, touring the city of St. Petersburg, taking him to make rounds to collect protection money from the businesses. It keeps him busy and out of my hair.

And it keeps me from thinking about sparring with him. From thinking about showering with him after, and sharing a meal. Sharing my bed.

Fuck!

Every time I am near him, it is like a switch is flicked.

He makes me insanely irritated. Gets a rise out of me that no one has any business getting. Let alone a foreign killer who I should never have brought into our midst. Yet I know his past. I know what he can do for us.

And better to have him on our side than against us. The same goes for his family, his brothers. If they ever come back to power, this will secure our ties with them.

Or buy us leverage.

I hate even thinking of him that way.

Which is why I must. I cannot be weak. I must not let a man make me weak.

It will only make things harder for me, a woman in power. Not to mention making things harder for Ciro. Attracting unwanted attention and retaliation from anyone who thinks he doesn’t belong.

Which is…pretty much everyone so far, minus Igor.

At least for the time being, Pyotr has an infinite list of tasks and nonsense to keep me occupied. Mission briefs, coded missives, reports from the docks and our earnings in exports. Even though we have accountants and paper pushers to do all of this. He says I must learn everything top to bottom if I am to be a true leader.

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