1
The train screeched into the station, brakes whining like it was protesting the stop. I stepped off the platform, blending into the crowd, hood up, sunglasses still on even though the sun had already dipped behind the skyline. Yeah, I looked like someone avoiding being seen. Because I was.
Not because I had to.
Because it’s what I do.
My boots hit pavement with practiced silence. This city didn’t know me yet, and that’s exactly how I liked it. One week. That was all I needed. One week to figure out why this place had been buzzing in my ear like static on an open line. Something had drawn me here. I wasn’t even pretending this was a real vacation.
The second I cleared the platform, my phone buzzed.
Avery 👹:
you there yet?
I rolled my eyes, thumbs tapping out a reply.
Yeah. Don’t worry.
The screen barely had time to dim before her name lit it up with a call. Of course.
“Seriously?” I answered, as I made my way for the crowed of people. most of them didn’t even pay me no mind.
“You couldn’t justsayyou’re alive?” Avery’s voice was tight, worried. “This whole last-minute getaway crap isn’t like you. Where evenareyou?”
I glanced around — high rises, too-clean sidewalks, the kind of city that dressed up its crime in a three-piece suit. “Nowhere special.”
“You’re not exactly the ‘lay-on-a-beach-and-drink’ type.”
“Nope,” I said. “But I am the ‘keep-little-sisters-safe-by-not-involving-them-in-anything-illegal’ type.”
A pause. “So you’re saying this isn’t a job?”
I hesitated. A breath too long. “No job. I just… need air. Change of scenery.”
She wasn’t buying it. Avery had a sixth sense when it came to my lies. Probably because I sucked at lying to her.
“Yelena…”
“I’m fine,” I said, softer this time. “I swear. You’ll hear from me in the morning.”
Another beat of silence.
“If you disappear again, I’m sending Mark.”
I actually smiled. “God help me.”
“Text me. I mean it.”
“Love you,” I said, then hung up before she could guilt me further.
I shoved the phone into my coat pocket and let out a slow breath.
Iwantedto believe this wasn’t a job. That I wasn’t chasing the pulse of something dangerous again. But truth was… I could feel it in my blood. The tension. The pull. The way every instinct was sharp, on edge, like I’d already stepped into a lions den met as well keep going.
I was passing by shops that were starting to close getting ready for the night, Turning my head looking across the street I saw a bar. I debated but then decided to head over since I got to think of this like a vacation.
My feet moved without thinking. Right through the glass doors of a bar I never would’ve gone into if I were actually on vacation.
It was sleek. Classy. The kind of place where drinks cost more than most people’s rent, and every guest looked like they had secrets sewn into their tailored suits.
I slipped into a booth in the back — not too dark, not too exposed — and ordered something I didn’t care to taste. I was already scanning the room. It was force of habit. Look for exits. People . Threats. Anything that sticks out.
I wasn’t expectinganyone tonight
She stepped out of the haze like she’d been painted in light. Low ponytail. A walk of . And those eyes — cool, unreadable, like she already knew what I was.
She looked right at me.
And smiled.
She sat at the bar instead, ordered something dark and neat, then glanced at me again like she was deciding whether I was worth the trouble.
Most people—when they look at me—they hesitate.
She didn’t.
It was… disarming.
So when she finally slid into the booth across from me without asking, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t tell her to leave. I didn’t do anything but stare right back.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, already sitting.
I raised a brow. “Isn’t that something you askbeforeyou sit down?”
“I like to take risks,” she said, tilting her glass.
God, her voice. Smooth. Confident. With a subtle rasp, like she’d just been laughing behind closed doors. And that look in her eye? Like she could see through bullshit at first glance. Her sharp green eyes could almost see your soul. Dammnit she is my type, I bite the inside of my lip no yelena do not get carried away.
“And I like to be left alone,” I replied, sipping my drink, looking at her, but she seemed completely relaxed were she sat.
She hummed, amused. “Mm. I don’t believe that.”
I looked at her more closely. She was dangerous. Not in the obvious way—no weapon, no sharp edges on display—but in the way shewatched. Like she was collecting information, piece by piece. Like she already had a theory about me and was waiting for me to prove her right.
“You always this bold with strangers?” I asked.
“Only the interesting ones.”
“And what makes me interesting?”
That slow smile returned, the one that made my stomach tighten just a bit.
“You walked into the wrong bar. But you haven’t walked out.”
I stiffened—only a little—but it was enough.
This place wasn’t just some fancy lounge. It had that smell of polished wood and secrets. The men in the back corner hadn’t touched their drinks once. And the bartender hadn’t looked surprised when I walked in, but definitely curious.
This wasn’t a bar for tourists. Or wanderers. It was for insiders. Guess its part of the trade this bar. I should have payed more attention to what bar I was choosing.
And I’d just walked into the lion’s den. If my sister was here all she would say it I told you so, and I hate the fact that she is mostly always right.
“You don’t belong here,” she said quietly, swirling the liquid in her glass. “And yet… you do.”
Something about her tone made me pause. She spoke not in a threading way but more so… admiration.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She held my gaze. “Someone who’s very good at getting what she wants.”
That earned her a smirk. “And what do you want tonight?”
She leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, her voice just a shade softer.
“You.”
The word hit harder than I expected. Not lustful. Not a tease. It was direct. Intentional.
A challenge.
I should’ve gotten up. Left. Slipped into the night the way I always do.
But instead… I tilted my head, met her gaze full-on, and said, “Then you better keep up.”
Her smirk grew, slow and sure, like she’d just won a game I didn’t know I was playing.
“Keep up?” she echoed. “darling, I set the pace.” That way those words came out of her mouth like honey. It was easy for her to say things like that so naturally.
It wasn’t the line—it was how she said it. Like heat and command and something that sounded like a promise. And I hated how much I liked it.
She stood without waiting, held her hand out to me like this was already decided. Like I was going with her.
Maybe I was.
No I definitely am
Her touch was warm—confident—and her fingers wrapped around mine like we’d done this before. Like my hand was supposed to fit into hers. Something was differently in the air tonight, but I wonder if she has anything to steal. Cant blame a girl can you.
The ride was quiet.
Not awkward. Just… heavy. Like the silence between us was speaking louder than anything we could say. She drove a black classic car, smooth leather seats we rode through the city as the night folk now being out and about. I leaned back, eyes flicking to her, studying the curve of her jaw under the streetlights. How her platinum hair rest perfectly on her face as if she was pulled out of a fairy tail. God life is unfair at times, I sigh looking out the window
“You still haven’t told me your name,” I said.
The way she spoke as if she was a woman of authority used to giving orders. “Would it matter?”
I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek. “Depends on if I want to remember it in the morning.”
She glanced at me then—just a flick of her eyes—but it was sharp. Playful. A little impressed.
“I’m Morgan,” she finally said, voice low. “And you?”
I paused. Thought about lying.
But something in me didn’t want to.
“…Yelena.”
Her lips parted slightly, like she already knew. But she didn’t say anything.
Her apartment was high-end, but not flashy. Clean lines. Dim lights. The kind of place that felt curated, not lived in. She walked in first, threw her keys on the counter, and turned to face me.
There was a beat. A single moment of quiet.
Then she stepped forward and kissed me.
I wasn’t used to losing control i didnt really do stuff like this so quickly but I keep telling myself it was because im on a “vacation” but that reasoning was slowly losing its well reasoning.
But I didn’t want her to stop.
Her jacket hit the floor. Mine followed. She backed me toward the bedroom as she lifted me up so I would not trip over the little steps leading to her bedroom.
When we came to the room I let her push me down onto the bed.
Her mouth found my neck, then lower, her hands dragging over skin like she was memorizing me piece by piece. And for a second—just a second—I forgot who I was. Forgot the lies. The walls. The carefully built persona that kept me untouchable. Im thinning of what she would taste like instead.
Because with her?
I wanted to be touched.
I wanted to feel.
And when she whispered my name in that low, husky voice, I swore I felt my heart skip.
Instead of answering, I tugged her closer, fingers threading into her hair, ruining the loose tie-back she wore.
That was all the answer she needed.
A sharp gasp escaped my lips when she did, the sudden closeness taking me by surprise. The next thing I knew, I was on the edge of the bed, my shirt pulled off, leaving me in just my lace blue bra, my chest heaving with the need to feel more of her.
“If you plan to tease me to death—” I began, but my words caught in my throat when she pressed her knee between my legs, the firm pressure making me whimper involuntarily. I could feel the heat building inside me, too intense to ignore.
Morgan smirked, her lips curling with the promise of something far more wicked. She pressed closer, her knee rubbing against me, and I could hardly breathe from how it made me ache. I wanted to push her back and take control, but I couldn’t. Not when her hands were so damn good at making me lose myself.
Her mouth found mine again, devouring me with a slow, feverish kiss that left me desperate for more. Her hands traced down the side of my body, fingertips brushing over my ribs before sliding dangerously close to the waistband of my pants. I gasped into the kiss when her fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing against the sensitive skin of my hips, teasing in the most maddening way.
I bucked against her, needing more, feeling like I was being driven insane by the slow, deliberate way she touched me. Every caress, every movement, felt calculated to make me lose my grip on everything I’d been holding onto.
Morgan’s fingers slipped lower, past the waistband of my jeans, making my body react instinctively. She teased me, her fingertips grazing the sensitive area of my skin, before pushing me further, her touch slow, maddening, each second stretching into eternity.
The way she controlled everything, making me feel like I was helpless in her arms, was an intoxicating feeling. My own hands moved of their own accord, desperate to touch her, to feel her in return. But Morgan just grinned against my mouth, pulling back slightly, her lips brushing mine with the softest tease before she slipped her hand deeper, making me gasp.
“Oh and here I thought you didn’t want my company,” she whispered, her voice low and dark, sending another jolt of heat through me. Her fingers lingered just enough to drive me mad, and I couldn’t help but shift against her, desperate for more. “Beg for it Yelena.” she spoke softly against my ear as her fingers rubbed against my clit.
“Please,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper, the need evident in every syllable. I never begged for anything in my life, But this woman made it hard not to beg for her touch.
She smirked, and I knew she wasn’t going to let me off that easily. Not yet.
The air was thick with heat and something darker, more raw than before. I was pinned beneath Morgan, her lips dragging down my neck like she wanted to mark me, claim me, own me. Her skin was a canvas of stories—ink swirling around her arms and chest, the designs bold and unapologetic, each one telling a tale of battles fought and won. But there was more. A scar ran just above her ribcage, faint but still visible, a reminder of something darker, a moment where she’d been vulnerable and yet still survived. But I wasn’t the type to let anyone have that much power over me.
Without thinking, I gripped her shoulders and, with one quick movement, flipped her over, rolling us both. The surprise in her eyes didn’t last long—there was that damn , curling at the corners of her mouth like this didn’t bother her at all.
But I wasn’t done.
I leaned in closer, the heat between us almost unbearable. Our breaths mingled, my pulse racing in my throat. “You’re not the only one who plays this game, Miss Morgan,” I murmured, lips brushing her ear.
