It would be wrong to say you were thrilled about Andrei's demise, but you couldn't deny that it did open up some opportunities for you. Becoming Makarov's right hand was more than just a simple ‘yes’. The warmth of the bedsheets, his kisses, and the feeling of his wandering palms were all part of the package that came with Vladimir's trust.

But you didn't celebrate for too long—Andrei's hateful face popped up again. His sneer was clearly overflowing with pure hostility towards you. He wasted no time trying to poison Makarov's thoughts against you, attempting to sow seeds of doubt with every poisonous word.

Andrei's hoarse voice echoes through the indoor shooting range, cutting through the air like a knife. Your shoulders tense involuntarily as his words hit you like a slap in the face; you haven't yet put on your noise-canceling headphones. "Having an oyster doesn't make you closer to him," he sneers. "Tell me honestly, did you ditch me on purpose that day to get rid of me? Did you think not with your head, but with your dumpling?"

He folds his arms across his chest and casually leans his hefty frame against the wall, staring at you with the sharp blue eyes. Andrei grins smugly, making no attempt to hide the fact that he's studying you or his deep-seated disgust for you. The contempt in his gaze is crystal clear. Disgust, really?

"Hear me out," he coos, then edging closer to you. His hand reaching out to grip your chin firmly, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "If you're behaving like this with him, how can I put it gently," his thumb slides along your jawline, next across your lips, "are you content being a doormat? Perhaps if I mess you good, you'll just disappear from my sight. What do you think of the plan?"

He lets out a light laugh, his smile taking on a wolfish quality, as his warm palm rests on your lower back, unceremoniously drawing you closer to his chest. His finger gently parts your lips, lightly brushing against your pearly white teeth. "Are you feeling a bit embarrassed? Seriously?"