Uncontained

People like them never needed anyone to introduce them. Their names always arrived first, ruining the mood and making the room feel colder.

Kieran Vane. Damien Callaghan. Luka Morozov.

I knew exactly what kind of monsters they were. Which made it almost funny that I was now tied to a cold marble pillar deep inside their own underground lair.

The plan had been simple. Sneak in, grab the encrypted USB, disappear into the night. Quiet and clean. I’d spent weeks watching them, learning their routines down to the hour. I knew when Kieran came down here to break a mole’s jaw, when Luka was buried in his security monitors, and when Damien left to check on a new shipment of weapons. I knew which cameras had blind spots and how long I had between patrols.

It wasn’t supposed to be difficult.

That was the part I got wrong.

I only took risky jobs when I didn’t have a choice. Staying off the grid cost money, and with my past, there weren’t exactly many respectable options. You used whatever skills you had. Mine usually got things done fast, quiet, and for good.

Ugh. damn it!

I still couldn’t figure out what went wrong. Maybe someone had betrayed me. Maybe I’d missed something in their security. Or maybe it was simply my turn to end up in the hands of the city’s worst predators.

My wrists were tied so tightly behind me that whoever had done it clearly knew what they were doing. The ropes had cut into my skin and left my fingers tingling, but nothing felt broken. The stone pillar against my back was cold enough to make me shiver. The basement reeked of bleach, the kind of smell that made you wonder what had been cleaned up instead of what had been cleaned. Somewhere overhead, a bare bulb buzzed and flickered, throwing shadows across the room.

Three men stood watching me.

Kieran was closest.

His dark hair was a mess, and somehow that only made him look better. He had a sharp jaw, black eyes, and the kind of face that probably got him forgiven for things he had no business being forgiven for. His leather jacket was pushed up at the forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the sleeves.

Right now, those eyes were locked on me while he balanced a heavy gun in one hand and a cherry lollipop in the other.

A lollipop. Really?

Are we doing the psychotic bad boy routine right now?

He ran the candy slowly along his lower lip, watching me the entire time. He didn’t even glance at the weapon in his hand.

I tested the rope again, mostly to give my hands something to do. My pulse had other ideas.

God, what an absolute asshole.

His gaze dropped to my mouth as he slid the lollipop between his teeth. He held it there for a moment before pulling it free with a quiet smack.

My stomach tightened.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Apparently, getting beaten up in a murder basement did weird things to my brain.

Kieran smirked.

I sucked the metallic taste of blood from my teeth. His ring had split my lip thirty minutes ago, and the cut still pulsed with my heartbeat. They’d tried everything to get information out of me. Names from my burner phone. The missing weapons shipment. The encrypted file buried behind seven fake directories.

I’d given them nothing but sarcasm. My ribs grumbled that they didn’t like my jokes.

Kieran stepped closer, looking me over like he’d just found something interesting to play with.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “Most people with half a brain know better than to break into this place.”

His grin widened. “Guess your luck ran out, sweetheart.”

I snorted.

“You know,” he continued, tilting his head, “most people break down sobbing and begging by now.”

“Give me a minute,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “I like to pace myself. The pathetic sobbing starts right after my wrists go numb.”

“Sassy. That turns me on.”

I didn’t answer.

Behind him, Luka finally detached himself from the shadows.

Tall. Dressed in black. Pale blond hair slicked neatly back. His icy blue eyes moved over me with the detached precision of someone taking inventory rather than looking at a person.

Where Kieran filled the room with restless energy, Luka barely seemed to move at all. “She’s stalling,” he said, his voice completely flat.

“Am I?” I shot back, still meeting Kieran’s stare. “Felt a lot more like foreplay to me.”

Kieran laughed. “Damn right it is.”

He stepped into my space again, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him. The lollipop stopped a breath from my lips. A dare.

Don’t do it, Kate. He’s a psychopath. He probably murdered someone with this exact stick.

So, naturally, I leaned forward. Just enough to drag my tongue over the sticky side of the candy.

I didn’t blink. I kept my eyes on his, letting my breath brush over his knuckles.

For a second, genuine surprise flashed across his face. Then the mask came back.

His laugh was quieter this time, rough around the edges. “Watch it, sweetheart. Keep playing like that, and I’ll start thinking you’re begging for something a lot harder than candy.”

I swallowed, but I didn’t look away. “Who says I’m not?”

Luka sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This behavior is counterproductive to the interrogation.”

“Relax, Robocop,” Kieran said, still watching my mouth. “She’s just playing.”

Then Damien walked in.

Ah, right. The Irish Boss. How could I forget him?

Whatever game Kieran had been playing stopped immediately. He actually stepped back.

Damien hadn’t said a word.

He was a tank of a man in a heavy brown leather jacket and black henley, broad shoulders filling the doorway. Thick copper hair. A sharp, scruffy jaw. And eyes that made my stomach drop.

Are those fucking red?

But not the kind of red that looked fake. The kind that made the rumors about him suddenly seem a little less ridiculous.

I’d heard them, same as everyone else. Military experiments. Ancient curses. Things that didn’t make any logical sense but still had a habit of keeping people awake at night.

The story about the warehouse in Cork was the one that stuck.

Eight armed men went in. Damien walked out. I didn’t know if the story was true. But now it got me thinking…

“Kieran,” Damien said. His Irish accent was thick, rough around the edges. “Enough.”

Kieran’s jaw tightened. For once, he didn’t argue.