Take Off the Hood
© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.
The Hollow Boys
KNOX
“HELL NO,” I snarled, shooting up from the chair so fast it crashed backward behind me.
Dimitri known as Dima just stared, lounging in his oversized leather throne like a bored king. Those tired eyes said I was the one spewing insanity.
“And why not?” he asked, voice flat.
*You’ve gotta be kidding me.*
“What the fuck do you mean ‘why not’?” I snapped. “Why the hell would we drag a girl into this crew? We’re already a full pack of psychos. We don’t need a woman complicating shit.”
“Except in our beds,” Rune piped up, flashing that wide, filthy grin. “And if we’re thinking that way… maybe she could warm those too.”
“Fuck no,” I growled.
“Don’t you dare,” Dima cut in sharply, suddenly wide awake. His eyes flashed when Rune suggested sharing her.
I narrowed my gaze at him, suspicion rising. “Wait… don’t tell me you’re already fucking her.”
Dima looked at me like I’d grown a second head, irritation sliding across his face. He shook his head and rose, unfolding his massive frame until he loomed over the mahogany desk.
“No chance in hell I’d cheat on my kotyonok,” he said, crossing thick arms over his chest.
Even pissed as I was, I couldn’t argue that. Dima was completely gone for his fierce little wife. If I had a woman like Milana, beautiful, brilliant, deadly, I’d lock the world out too. Marriage wasn’t for me, though. Ever.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead, exhaling hard. “Look, she’s not permanent. I just need her for this bust. We’ve been circling the Red Eye Syndicate for years….”
“And we’re close,” I interrupted. “We gutted half their Russian ops two weeks ago. We’re almost there.”
“I know,” Dima said, long-suffering. “But we’ll get there faster with Hebe’s gift.”
Saint arched a pierced brow. “And that gift is… talking to animals? How the fuck is that supposed to help against a global crime ring?”
Dima met his stare. “I’ve seen it work. It will go a long way for us, Trust me.”
Rune leaned forward, still grinning like this was a circus. “A long way, you say?”
“Yes.” Dima replied.
I prowled to the window, digging out a cigarette. I needed the burn to calm the rage boiling in my veins. Dima hated smoking indoors, said the smell clung to him and Milana hated it but right now, I didn’t give a damn about his wife’s delicate sensibilities.
I lit up, took a deep drag, and blew smoke toward the glass.
“Can she even fight?” Rune asked, leaning toward Saint with a wicked glint. “I do love a woman who knows her way around a gun… or a knife.” He palmed Saint's crotch suggestively and purred into Saint’s ear, “Don’t you, Sainttt?”
In a blink, Saint’s blade was at Rune’s throat. Rune just smirked wider, tongue flicking out to lick Saint’s cheek.
“Get the fuck away,” Saint muttered, shoving him back. The knife nicked skin; a thin line of blood welled up. Rune swiped it with his thumb and sucked it clean, eyes gleaming.
Dima watched them without surprise, this chaos was everyday for us, then turned back to me.
“No, she can’t fight.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, smoke curling from my lips.
“That’s why I’m putting her with your team,” Dima said. “The others could protect her too, teach her our ways, but I chose you. You’ll keep her alive. And Knox, be soft with her. She’s already been through hell.”
Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty. We’ll draw her a princess bath too.”
Dima ignored the jab, raising his voice toward the door in smooth, commanding Russian.
"Хебе, заходи. Не бойся их."
(Hebe, come in. Don’t be afraid of them.)
Rune leaned back, arms crossed, grin still plastered on. “Hope she at least speaks English. I’m not teaching anyone the damn language.”
Dima didn’t answer, eyes fixed on the door.
"Входи, девочка. Не бойся."
(Come in, girl. Don’t be afraid.)
Silence stretched.
Saint snorted. “What, she bolt already?”
The heavy door creaked open.
A tiny figure slipped inside, swallowed by an oversized black hoodie that hung nearly to her knees. Fuzzy pink slippers peeked beneath. The hood was pulled so low I couldn’t see a face, just shadow, sleeves past her hands, nails worried between teeth as she stared at the floor.
We all stared. Hard.
I broke first. “That a kid?”
Dima didn’t glance at me. His voice softened, patient but firm.
"Капюшон сними, Хебе. Они не укусят."
(Take off the hood, Hebe. They won’t bite.)
She froze. A tiny, scared shake of her head.
No.
Dima’s tone dropped, leaving no room for argument.
"Сейчас же, малышка. Покажи им лицо."
(Right now, little one. Show them your face.)
Trembling hands rose. Scarred, delicate fingers hooked the hood and pushed it back.
Fuck.
Long, thick honey-blonde hair spilled out, sliding over her shoulders and down her back like liquid gold, stopping just above the curve of her ass. It framed a small, heart-shaped face flushed pink with fear.
Then those eyes hit me.
Biggest, clearest blue I’d ever seen like glacier melt under summer sun, framed by dark, wet lashes.
One look, and something slammed into my chest like a fist.
The room went dead quiet.
Rune’s cocky smirk vanished.
Saint’s knife slipped from his fingers, clattering loud against the floor.
Ash, silent bastard that he is sucked in a sharp, audible breath.
And me?
I forgot how to breathe.
My cigarette burned forgotten between my fingers; ash dropped onto my boot and I didn’t feel it.
Dima’s mouth curved in that faint, knowing smirk before he spoke again in Russian.
"Маску тоже сними."
(Take off the mask too.)
Hebe’s breath hitched. Those scarred little fingers shook harder as they tugged the black mask down.
Full, soft pink lips.
High cheekbones.
Skin like porcelain, broken only by faint silver scars that somehow made her even more beautiful.
She was tiny, barely five-foot-two in those ridiculous fluffy slippers. Shoulders curled in, trying to make herself smaller. Tears finally spilled over, sliding down flushed cheeks without a sound.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody fucking breathed.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Something dark and hungry cracked wide open inside me, the kind of feeling that’s never going away.
Dima’s voice cut through the silence, low and amused.
"Told you. See her first."
Hebe didn’t look up. Just stood there shaking, long hair falling forward again like a curtain, waiting.
My cigarette finally dropped from my fingers and burned a hole in the rug.
I didn’t even notice.
All I could see was her.
