Page 279 of Wrong Pucking Player

“??.”

Yes.

His smile grows while his eyes show just how pleased he is with my firm declaration.

No excuses. No fake shit. Just the truth.

“Then what are you waiting for, Officer Melody?” he begins and looks back at the woman who stands at attention. “Get the key for the cell that holds Miss Kenzie Sofiya Andrews.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” She’s gone in a flash, but that leaves me and Oliver, the two of us looking shocked at the mention of that middle name.

“Sofiya?” I couldn’t find the connection, but that single word puts the piece together that confirms what we’re slowly discovering.

Sofiya Andrews.

The missing heir of Moscow North Empire.

“Fuck,” Oliver whispers. “Mom is going to be mad.”

I give him a glare before I look at the smiling chief, who chuckles.

“I think Mother is going to be delighted,” he announces. “It would be an honor to finally close ties between the Salvatores and Andrews. Though they should ditch the Andrews fable. Such a white-washed alibi. Androsov flows so much better and emphasizes her roots.”

Kenzie Sofiya Androsov.

“You know who she is,” I whisper.

“Of course. I had to do my research when I met her during your practice.”

His revelation makes me growl, the vibration thrumming against my throat. He just laughs and reaches out to place a firm hand on my free shoulder.

Leaning in close, he doesn’t break eye contact.

“I’ve never been your enemy, Oscar. Maybe this will make you realize it.” He squeezes my shoulder, making me struggle to fight the urge to move away. “Your loyalty, like your brother’s, will reward you in this sense, but the circumstances that are unraveling are rather messy.”

“You don’t lay a hand on her,” I growl.

“I don’t touch what’s yours, Oscar,” he assures me. “But I’ve told you from way back then, you only get to keep one shiny possession with you.”

I know what he wants to do.

“She’s mine,” I emphasize it again. “Fuck Winchester.”

“Meaning you let go?” he asks for confirmation, and I don’t dare to delay.

“I let go of him,” I vow.

“Good, my son,” he whispers and removes his hand to gently pat my cheek. “Be patient, and this will pass over. Daddy will handle the rest.”

He turns around to leave, but I can’t help but speak up.

“Fernandez,” I announce. “He’s after Kenzie.”

That makes Father stop before he tilts his head.

“I see. That boy is still playing checkers instead of chess,” he hums. “Very well. Let’s see how bad he wants it.”

“What if he hurts—”

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