No time to indulge in dark fantasies. I have a girl to save. She survived a goddamn sex auction while I was too busy sucking on Roman’s fingers to notice the house was on fire.
My cop-brain kicks in: interview the victim then get her out of harm’s way.
I swing my legs over the bed, my feet sinking into carpet too soft to be trusted. The air is thick with an unsettling mixture of anxiety and anticipation, and my heart races as I rise.
I need to shake off the remnants of last night. I can’t let Roman’s touch linger like a poison on my skin. We have a mission, and Dakota deserves more than my distraction.
My mind drifts to her face—how terrified she must feel. The image solidifies my resolve. She has lost so much already. I won’t let her slip through my fingers, too.
This time, I’ll make a difference.
And that I only have this chance because Roman pulled her out of hell? That he’s the one who made this rescue possible?
It complicates things.
But it doesn’t change the mission.
Later, I’ll worry about whether I want to arrest him, fuck him, or thank him.
Right now, I want to burn every man at that auction alive.
Striding toward the door, I pause. My eyes fall on the mirror. The reflection is that of a stranger’s. My dark hair a wild halo around my face, skin still flushed from the memories. I look like I’ve just been thoroughly used.
What is it, exactly, that Roman has pulled out of me?
How could he see the greedy, fractured mess beneath the badge when I’ve spent my whole life trying to hide it—even from myself?
Have I been calling out to him all this time, screaming in a secret language only monsters can understand?
Every time, I think he’s made me climax as hard as humanly possible, only to be proven wrong. I didn’t even know it waspossibleto come that hard, to come so many times I lost consciousness.
Maybe there’s no ceiling on what he can do to me. Maybe if this goes on long enough, he’ll fuck me into a coma instead of just unconscious.
That’d be one way to get rid of him, I guess.
Oh, please, Giselle—you don’t want to get rid of him. You’re jealous of his underwear because it gets to cradle his cock all day.
There’s no time to linger on whether I do or don’t envy Roman’s Hane’s. What matters now is the fight ahead.
Focus.
Dakota. Bratva. Justice.
That’s the word that finally shakes me out of my post-orgasm stupor.
Justice.
That’s what I’m here for, right?
Not for Roman. Not for the way his voice makes me wet. Not for the way he made me come all over his thigh while I sucked my own gun.
I open the door before I can spiral any further.
The hallway stretches before me. Ornate fixtures line the walls, but the elegance does little to comfort me. There’s a pervading darkness that seems to settle over everything, thick and stifling.
I hear voices drifting down the hall, muffled but recognizable. Rosa and Roman, their tones low and intent. I’m surprised, then, when I finally find them and see they’re not alone. Dakota is facing them down, her jaw set in defiance.
I feel a hum of pride. Even after everything she’s gone through, she has fire.
