The first time I see him, I know what he is. Not a man. A decision. One moment I’m taking a break at work.
The next, I’m pinned to brick—his hand over my mouth, a threat I never see, and a warning I’ll never forget. I wait for the end. Instead, he lets me breathe.
Bratva-bred, London-polished, and terrifyingly calm—Lev Voronov was sent to kill me. He doesn’t tell me why. He only gives me a rule: I’m coming with him. He calls it protection. I call it captivity.
Because the men hunting me don’t want money. They want what I have—something I didn’t even know I was carrying until people started dying for it. Lev doesn’t offer freedom.
He offers a vow, and the more I fight, the tighter his control gets—until his darkness starts to feel like the only place I can breathe. He didn’t spare me out of mercy.
He spared me because now I belong to his vow.
