Page 2 of Lord of the Dark

An icy silence filled the room, and I could practically feel the last shred of the Russians’ patience snap. Morozov’s eyes narrowed to slits, and Karpin’s gaze slid back to me, his expression suddenly alight with an interest that made my skin crawl. He leaned back, a cold smile playing on his lips—one that sailed right over Carter’s head but Alessandro and I understood instantly. The two men ignored Carter’s threats as if they were meaningless, turning their attention to me instead.

Karpin noted our tension and fixed his attention squarely on me once more. With deliberately velvety tones, he purred, lacing his words with quiet provocation: "And you, my girl?" His eyes traveled slowly across my face, as if studying every microexpression. "Do you truly believe you belong here?" A soft, mocking laugh darkened the words, twisting them into something lewd. "Or are you merely an ornament—a little trophy to lighten the mood?"

I noticed Alessandro’s hand shift almost imperceptibly to the side, and I knew his fingers now hovered near the weapon concealed beneath his waistband. He was preparing for the worst, the tension in his face once again masked behind iron control.

Karpin remained focused on me, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that made my skin crawl. His gaze lingered on my lips. This was a test—to gauge my reaction, but more importantly, to watch Alessandro. Karpin had long since sensed something between us, something we were trying to hide. He played this game with obvious relish, banking on the spark of jealousy his words might ignite in Alessandro.

"A woman like you," he continued softly, "doesn’t belong in this world. Or am I mistaken?" His eyes glittered, voice dripping with irony.

I couldn’t give him an opening, couldn’t let him scent even a whiff of weakness. "I belong exactly where I am," I countered, my voice steadier than I felt. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t be at this table."

That pleased him—perhaps far more than I would have liked. His thin lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. He studied me, and in his eyes lurked a hunger, a predator’s gaze that unsettled me. With a sly glance toward Alessandro, he waited for a reaction.

But Alessandro was a professional; he wrote the rules of these mind games himself. He didn’t flinch as Karpin’s provocations landed. His face remained impassive, his eyes unmoving—almost bored. Not the slightest twitch betrayed him.

Only Carter, in his boundless arrogance, ignored the danger gathering over us like a dark tide. He grew even more impatient and demanding, his voice a command no one in the room took seriously. "I’ve had enough of these games. I want an answer—now," he declared, slamming his fist on the table. "Either you’re in, or you’re walking away from the opportunity of a lifetime."

You goddamn fool, you’ll get us all killed.

The Russians exchanged a single, razor-sharp glance—then Morozov’s cold, ominous laughter cut through the silence. It was a laugh that promised nothing good, and I felt an icy shuddercrawl down my spine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alessandro slowly drawing his Glock beneath the table. I knew I had to act—now.

I let a faint smile curve my lips, arched my brows just enough to feign interest, and tilted my head slightly. "Karpin," I said, softening my voice to something just shy of my usual tone, "I’ve heard men like you always win. What’s your secret?"

Karpin was undeniably an asshole, but it would have been a grave mistake to think him stupid. His eyes narrowed slightly as he weighed my tone, probing for the intent behind my words. Yet the faint surprise flickering across his features was enough encouragement to press further. I leaned in subtly, as if giving him my full attention, though every muscle in my body remained taut and coiled, ready to recoil if he crossed a line. "Are you really as cold as they say," I murmured, my smile soft, teasing, "or is there more beneath the surface?" I dared to let my gaze trace his face the way I’d once done with Alessandro.

Karpin grinned, his expression loosening, but the glint in his eyes stayed dangerous. "More than you could imagine, little lady," he replied, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned back, pulling a cigarette from his jacket and lighting it, never breaking his scrutiny of me.

Alessandro remained silent, but I knew he was waiting for the right moment. My only job was to create it.

"I’ll take your word for it," I told Karpin, holding his gaze even as my pulse roared. "But first impressions can deceive, can’t they?"

Then—everything erupted in a single, blistering instant that shattered the tension.

Alessandro and the two Russians launched from their chairs with explosive synchronicity, sending them crashing backward. In one fluid motion, Alessandro raised his gun and fired—no hesitation, just lethal, ice-cold precision. The deafening shotshook the room. Morozov’s body jerked as the bullet struck his forehead dead-center. His massive frame slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a sickening thud. A thin, dark thread of blood began creeping across the wood, leaving behind a silence so absolute I could hear only my own hammering heartbeat.

Carter gaped at Morozov’s corpse, his eyes wide with horror. "What the f—"

With a sudden leap, Karpin vaulted over Carter, yanking me against him with a brutal jerk—a human shield. Every muscle in my body locked as the cold barrel of his gun pressed into my temple. His arm clamped around my ribs like a vice, leaving no room to struggle. His face was so close I could feel his hot, acrid breath—a nauseating stench that twisted my stomach and sent a cold wave of fear racing through me. His hand gripped my waist, fingers digging in hard enough to steal my breath. His grip tightened further, squeezing the air from my lungs, the strength draining from my body as his fingers bored into my flesh like steel screws. I breathed quickly yet evenly, holding Alessandro’s gaze without uttering a word.

Alessandro leaned forward slightly, every muscle in his body taut to the point of snapping, his weapon gripped firmly in both hands and trained unwaveringly on Karpin. His eyes were narrowed to slits, burning with concentrated fury.

"You picked the wrong one. Vaughn’s your ticket."

I saw his jaw harden, his fingers tightening around the gun’s grip.

"Are you insane? You’d hand me over?" Carter’s voice was nearly hysterical as he whirled toward Alessandro. Then his gaze darted between my face and Alessandro’s—and in the worst possible moment, the pieces seemed to click into place. "Fuck. You’re fucking her, Russo..." The words left him almost toneless with horror.

No. No. No. I was lost.

Without hesitation, Alessandro pivoted and shot him in the right leg.

A piercing, agonized scream echoed through the room as Carter crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Alessandro roared, the words dripping with hatred. Carter let out a weak curse but otherwise stayed silent, reduced to quiet whimpers.

Karpin chuckled low in his throat—a deep, ominous laugh that filled the silence. "You fuck his woman?" He let out a sharp whistle through his teeth that sent ice slithering down my spine. "What a surprise, Russo. Makes the choice to take her even easier. Can’t blame you—she’s exquisite." I felt his revolting gaze crawl over me. "That’s why she comes with me. We’ll have fun," he said in broken English.

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