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The dead Bratva in that hotel aren’t lying in their own blood because of the need to protect territory. I killed them because they took what was mine.
All I can think as I stare down at the city below, this city that belongs to me, is that I want Sofia Ferretti more than once. More than for a night. When I saw her face staring up at me from the floor of that closet, something changed.
Everything changed. And I’ll burn this entire city to the ground if I have to, in order to keep Viktor Andreyev from ever taking her from me again.
“Because,” he says simply. “You’re mine.” And then he bends his head, my hands still pinned above mine, and his lips come crashing down onto my mouth.

