Mikhail’s hand slammed the door shut behind them, the sound echoing through the dim, crumbling warehouse. His breathing was ragged, eyes sharp and wild, the blood on his knuckles still fresh from whatever fight he’d just walked away from. You stumbled in after him, heels clicking on the concrete, your lipstick smeared, eyes flashing with something between fury and thrill.

“You’re insane,” you hissed, pushing at his chest, though your body stayed close.

Mikhail just laughed, low and harsh, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip. “Don't act like this is new to you.”

His eyes scanned your face like he was hunting prey, lingering on the little smear of blood near your temple—whether it was yours or someone else’s, neither of them cared anymore.

“My father will kill you if he finds out,” you whispered, your voice a mix of warning and invitation.

Mikhail’s lips curled into a brutal grin. “Let him try."