Alexei tells me everything eventually. The gambling debts. The mistress. The desperate, stupid decision to take what wasn't his. He begs for mercy, for another chance, for his life.
I don't give it.
When he's told me everything useful, I put a bullet in his brain. The shot echoes, and his body slumps forward, blood pooling on concrete.
Clean. Efficient. Necessary.
Mikhail will handle disposal. He always does.
I wash Alexei's blood off my hands in the utility sink, watching pink water circle the drain. My knuckles are split and swelling. There's blood spatter on my shirt—I'll burn it later.
This is what I am.
And I fucking love it.
The violence centers me. Reminds me that in this world, strength is the only currency that matters. Weakness gets you killed. Fear makes you prey.
And somewhere upstairs, Valerie Novak is probably still crying, terrified of the man who pressed a gun to her forehead.
Good.
But that flash of steel? That moment where she wasn't afraid?
That's what keeps me interested.
I shower in my bathroom—the same one where I held her at gunpoint hours ago—and let the hot water work into my muscles. Blood and gunpowder wash down the drain, and my mind drifts back to her.
She's not beautiful the way the women I usually fuck are beautiful. No carefully maintained appearance, no expensive styling, no practiced seduction. She's all big brown eyes and soft mouth, the kind of innocence that doesn't last long in my world.
But in that shower, soaking wet with terror in her eyes, I noticed other things.
The way her pulse hammered visibly in her throat—fast and fragile, begging to be pressed. How her lips parted when she saw me naked, a little gasp of surprise she couldn't control. The flush that spread across her face even while she was terrified, red staining her cheeks and neck.
Heat. Just for a second before the fear swallowed it whole.
She's not experienced. That much was obvious. The way she couldn't stop staring at my body, and then looked away like she'd done something wrong. The shocked wideness of her eyes when they dropped below my waist. That's not practiced seduction. That's a girl seeing something she's been told to fear and finding herself curious instead.
Virgin? Maybe. Or close enough that it doesn't matter.
Either way, she'd break so easily.
I finish showering and dress in comfortable clothes—black pants, black shirt. It's nearly 9 PM. I should check on Mila before I do anything else.
Sofia's in the west corridor, reviewing schedules on her tablet.
"Status?" I ask.
She looks up, unruffled as always. "Kitchen inventory completed. Staff rotations confirmed. The new girl started today—Miss Novak. She seems nervous but competent. Should I schedule her for Mila's evening routine starting tomorrow?"
"Not yet. Keep her on general duties."
Her eyes sharpen slightly. "Any concerns I should know about?"
"Just watch her. Report anything unusual."
"Of course." She makes a note. "Mila's already asleep. Elena said she went down easily tonight."
Something in my chest tightens. "No nightmares?"
