“Is that all?” Tiana shakes her head, and turning her back to Viktor, she lifts her shirt. The second Viktor sees the welts on her back, rage ignites in his eyes, and his features turn to stone. Misha lets out a growl, his hands fisting at his sides. I step closer to him in case he lunges for Makarova. Leaning in, I whisper, “Keep calm. We’ll deal with the fucker at a later stage.”
