Oh my god. Oh my god. I pace backward and forward in front of the enormous bedroom window. Moscow glitters below like a sea of colorful stars on a dark night. I wonder if this Horseman is down there somewhere, watching, waiting.

I've been so wrapped up in Ronan, in my twisted loyalties and all the shit with Don that I'd almost forgotten about the mysterious friend I gained while captive in Ronan's house. But, of course, now... now it's slowly clicking into place. I'm Ronan's rat. The USB stick that I hoped would fuck him over after he killed me, well, it's definitely doing its job—except, I'm not dead. How long before he figures it out? Was my mystery friend The Horseman? If so, then I'm not the only rat here. Someone knew the code to his safe, they knew he'd have that drive, and they knew that I'd be willing to get it. But… if they were in his house, they could surely just get it themselves—unless they didn't want to risk being exposed. So many questions are racing through my mind.

I can't even bring myself to regret it, because at the time, Ronan was my enemy. But if it's the same person, then I helped someone who then tried to have me killed. Assholes. This is not the cartel. A show of force will not work here. Ronan is literally fighting an enemy he can't see, and yet, I know he'll eviscerate them because it's what he does. Will he end me when he finds out what I did? A strange thrill of excitement grips me and I almost roll my eyes. I've been spending too much time with Ronan. I'm becoming every bit as depraved as he is.

I need to tell him, because though we may once have been enemies, we aren't now. I start towards the bedroom door, but my feet won't seem to carry me past the threshold. Fuck, how do I even tell him? I'm screwed.

His footsteps echo down the hallway before his shadow falls over the door. I glance up, meeting his icy gaze as he steps toward me. The anger that enveloped him earlier has vanished. "Someone very close to me has betrayed me, little kitty," he purrs next to my ear before sweeping my hair behind my ear.

My breath catches in my throat and I struggle to remain calm, taking a shaky step away from him. He watches me move the way a predator studies limping, weak prey.

"Who do you think it is?” he asks. “Igor or Donovan." I turn around and there's a sadistic smirk on his face.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I shake my head. "You know who it is, Ronan.”

His grin deepens when he takes another step, backing me against the window. "Yes.” He places his lips inches from mine. "I do." His gaze drops to my mouth. His finger trails over my collarbone. "Brave little kitty."

"You were going to kill me anyway," I whisper. "They asked for my help."

He grabs my throat, pinning me against the glass and picking me up from the floor. "Who?" His eyes flame with madness.

I scratch my nails over his wrist as what little breath is left escapes my lungs in a hiss. His grip loosens and he allows my feet to touch the floor. "I don't know. I just took the opportunity to fuck you over from the grave." I imagine what this would all look like if he had killed me and my lips twitch on a smile.

Closing his eyes, he groans and presses his lips to mine. "You truly are perfect. Do you regret it now, krasivaya? Hmm?"

"No." I narrow my eyes at him. "We were enemies. I took a shot and it landed." I place my hand around the back of his neck, brushing my lips over his. That dangerous attraction swirls around us, pulling me to him even while the threat of retribution hangs heavy in the air. "I wouldn't do it now if it helps." I shrug one shoulder.

"Where did you find the information?"

"You truly do have a rat, Ronan.” I sigh. “Someone slipped a burner into my bag at the dinner where you took out Vasily."

"And... the information?"

"At the next dinner, I received a USB stick along with a text telling me your safe code. I swapped them."

His nostrils flare like a bull and his grip tightens, his eyes dropping to my lips. "How very brave of you to follow orders from someone you do not know. I thought you to be smarter than that."

"I didn't care. As long as I fucked you over. I imagined you so angry and yet unable to do anything because I'd already be dead." A nostalgic smile graces my lips. "Oh, to win your game, Ronan."

A small laugh slips through his lips and, on a sigh, he releases me. "You have a terrible mess to clean up now..." And with that he turns his back to me and walks from the room.

I wake the next morning to cold, untouched sheets beside me. Sighing, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Of course he's mad at me, but it's Ronan...to stay angry implies a lack of emotional control that he rarely succumbs to.

I get up and shower before going to the closet. It's not stocked yet, so I take one of Ronan's expensive shirts and slip it over my head without underwear. I make my way through the penthouse, stopping in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before I find Ronan in the living room, sitting proudly on the couch. Next to him sits a platinum blond man with skin so pale it's nearly blinding.

Upon my entrance, Ronan glances over his shoulder and smiles. "Camilla, this is Boris," he says.

The man frowns. "My name's Arnold."

Ronan holds up his hand. "I like Boris."

When I round the corner, I find both Donovan and Igor’s bodies sprawled out on the floor. Bullet holes in their foreheads. "What the hell, Ronan?"

"It was most likely one of them who was the rat. No one else knew the codes, and well," he shrugs, "you can't exactly trust a rat to tell you the truth. Sadly, for whoever was innocent."

"You didn't think to confirm it? Or work out which one it was?" I lift my mug of coffee to my lips, taking a sip as I stare at the bodies. "It seems...wasteful."

"My time is too valuable to waste on such as that."

I glance at Boris or Arnold, whatever his name is. "You must be thrilled at your new position," I say on a smirk.

He swallows hard before his eyes drop to my chest, staring a beat too long at my nipples pressing against the thin material of Ronan's shirt.

Ronan snaps his fingers and Boris' gaze quickly moves away from me. "Do not look at her like that again or I will have your eyes gouged out."

I bite my lip to hide my smile before dropping onto the couch next to Ronan, stretching my bare legs across his lap. His shirt rides up my thighs but I pretend not to notice. Poor Boris looks like he's about to shit on himself. Ronan glares at me. "So,” I say, “aside from Donovan and Igor's untimely demise, what's the order of business today? Apparently, I have some cleaning to do." I cock a brow at Ronan and lift my coffee to my lips.

Ronan's hand lands on my thigh, slowly inching up. His eyes lock on Boris as he continues to glide his palm up my leg. He’s such a caveman. When he reaches the top of my thigh, he slides his hand around to cup my bare ass, then freezes before shooting a look at me. "And so the uncivilized savage returns."

Boris adjusts in his seat, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he stares straight ahead at the wall. I can't help but laugh. "I think Boris likes a touch of the uncivilized."

"Boris," Ronan says, and he jumps, "go fetch us breakfast. Omelets. Rye toast."

Boris hops up and practically runs out of the room. Laughing, I place my coffee on the side table and fall back against the arm of the sofa. "The world is burning around us and you're making him get breakfast?"

"It's not all that I'm doing. I have people working for me, little kitty. I just sit and wait."

I roll my eyes and sit up, taking his jaw and pulling his face toward mine. "Have you made it known that you're looking for information on The Horseman?"

He jerks his chin from my grasp. "It is poor business to let the enemy know you are after him."

"You're the Russian Devil. Scary as fuck with more power than presidents. Literally." His lips twitch. "Someone knows who he is, and if they were so inclined to buy favor with a powerful man... It is the way the world outside your domain works, Russian. You just have to whisper the right words to the right people." I lift a brow.

He pats my cheek like I'm a small child. "This is not the cartel. There is much more at stake here."

"Well," I get up, making sure to flash an appropriate amount of ass before I stand, "when you realize that The Horseman isn't playing by your civilized fucking rules, you'll come running." I pull my hair into a ponytail and his eyes fix on the bottom of the shirt now barely covering my pussy. "After all, I am a cartel savage." I slide my fingers to the top button of my shirt and slowly slide it loose, allowing the material to part until the swell of my breasts are exposed.

He stands with a groan and strides toward me, grabbing me by the waist and pinning me to the doorframe. His hot breaths fan over my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to grant him better access as he kisses his way down to the top of my breasts. I slide my hands beneath his jacket, running them over his broad chest. I smile when I feel the hard outline of his phone in the inside pocket. Threading my fingers into his hair, I tug his head back and slam my lips against his, moaning into his mouth until he's appropriately distracted. And then, with my free hand, I slip the phone from his pocket and tuck it into my sleeve. His hands slide beneath the shirt and my skin heats as that familiar, dangerous craving starts riding me hard. It’s so hard to deny him, but I force myself to lightly shove him back, and oh, do his heated eyes study me. "Now isn't the time, Russian," I say, struggling not to smile at the glare he throws my way. "There's much more at stake than you getting your dick inside some savage."

The expression on his face says he's about to bend me over the couch and show me just how savage he can be. This is not going to plan. Thankfully, the front door swings open and Boris strolls in with breakfast. Ronan is distracted for a second. I use it to duck under his arm and sprint for the bedroom. I slam the bedroom door and go to the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind me. I give it two minutes before he realizes his phone is missing.

I take the phone and dial Gabe's number, waiting anxiously as it rings.

"¿Si?"

"Gabe. I need your help," I say quickly, unsure of where my brother and I stand at this moment.

"What?” He sighs. “Did the Russian fuck screw you over?"

"No." If only he knew how much I screwed Ronan over. He'd be proud. "You've heard of The Horseman?"

"Oh, no..." He swears beneath his breath. "No! Tell me that pale dick is not working with the fucking Horseman?"

"No." Shit, if I tell Gabe that they are enemies, he'll probably refuse to help just in case Ronan falls. "He tried to have me killed."

"Ai, ai, ai. You see! Fucking that Russian has done you no favors!"

"Gabe, I am caught in the middle of a shit storm right now and The Horseman is seemingly untouchable. I want a name. I need you to put out the word. Subtly," I add, because this is Gabriel we're taking about. "A million dollars to the man who can bring The Horseman to Ronan Cole."

"Little Kitty." The handle to the bathroom door rattles and I jump before turning on the taps.

"And of course, the Russians gratitude," I say, ignoring Ronan.

Gabe sighs. "You are fucking kidding me!"

"Gabriel, I just need you to utilize contacts. Nothing more," I say in a hush.

There' a loud bang over the door. "Camilla, open the door."

"I'm peeing!" I shout. There's silence on the other end of the phone. "Gabriel, I need you to do this!" I hiss. "For me, not him." Lies. Although technically The Horseman also wants me dead apparently.

"Fine."

The door shakes. "Give me my phone, Camilla."

"Shit. I have to go," I tell Gabe.

"I never thought I'd see the day you bowed to a fucking man."

"Well, I may have seduced him, stolen his phone, and called you to help against his wishes." I sigh. "After I admitted that I sold him out to his enemy, before I slit his throat," I say in a rush. "It's complicated." I hear Gabe's laughter as I hang up.

Steeling myself, I turn the taps off before yanking the trembling door open. Ronan looks like an approaching storm, dark and ominously deadly. I drop his phone into his hand and duck under his braced arm. "Is breakfast here?" Before I make it three feet away, I'm yanked back by my hair and plastered against his chest. His hands grip my waist, squeezing tight.

"Tread carefully." his voice is laced with a tremor of aggravation.

There's a moment of silence, a moment were I'm not certain what he may do to me—and I delight in it. His expression is unreadable, and that's when Ronan scares me. "Or what, Russian?" I breathe against his lips, unable to help myself. I'm desperate to watch him lose control, like a junkie craving my favorite, dangerous fix.

His nostrils flare and a spark ignites in his cold eyes. "Do not fuck with my business dealings."

"This isn't just business, Ronan. It's personal and you know it. And in case you forgot, this guy isn't just after you."

His warm breath blows over my face, a promise and a threat in one. "Do not meddle in my business, Camilla." He lets go of me then turns to walk out of the room.

Oh, he did not! I follow him, stopping in the kitchen doorway and placing my hands on my hips. "You know what, Russian, the world does not revolve around you. I'm not your fucking captive. I'm a cartel boss who someone tried to kill. So now my cartel will get me a name."

He glares at me, bristling with anger. "You are no one, Camilla!"

"I'm hurt," I say, clutching my chest on a smile. "You may think I'm no one, but your Horseman still tried to kill me. Regardless of you, Ronan, that shit demands retribution. I'm not some helpless damsel caught in the crossfire."

"And retribution shall be had, but I do not need you—" he steps toward me—"a feeble cartel princess, trying to decide what proper business is." He inches toward me. "Learn your place!" he says through gritted teeth.

"And how weak you must feel knowing that the feeble cartel princess managed to slit your throat. Shame I didn't cut just a little deeper," I snarl.

"Yes, the show of a true coward. Slitting a man's throat in his sleep." He grabs a knife from the counter, shoves it in my hand, then presses it to his throat just above the bandage from the last time. The muscles tense when he lifts his chin. "Do it now, Camilla. Slit my throat. See if you win this time."

"Says the man who poisoned me?" My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife and I push the blade against his skin just a little harder, watching as blood wells around the blade. A drop trickles over the stubble of his throat before soaking into the dressing. "They say that poison is a woman's weapon." I lift my eyes to his. "There was a time when I would have opened your throat without blinking.” I toss the knife on the kitchen side, sending droplets of blood across the marble counter top before I take a step back. “How pathetic you've made me."

"Poison is a lover's weapon," he smirks. "The only way I could fuck you as you were dying, my sweet krasivaya."

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten. I'm not sure I can do this with him, this volatile merry go round that just seems to go on and on. He's reduced me to nothing, and how can this, this… love possibly be worth the sacrifice? "I can't do this." I turn around and head toward the elevator. I don't even know where I'm going, but I just need out.

He laughs and I hear his footsteps as he follows me. "You have no choice."

I jab the elevator button. "I have a fucking choice, Ronan," I snap, and even I can hear the hint of hysteria in my voice. He sighs behind me before throwing me over his shoulder. "Ronan!" I shout. He ignores me and carts me back into the living room, tossing me onto the sofa.

"So angry," he says, sinking to his knees. "Always so angry." He smiles before spreading my legs apart, his gaze locking on my pussy. Despite the fact that I want to fight him, the second his warm tongue brushes over me, I moan.

"I'm not just your little fuck toy, Ronan," I gasp, even as my legs shamelessly fall open for him.

"Then you shouldn't be so angry." Each word blows a heated breath across me. "It's a fatal form of arousal."

"You make me so fucking angry," I growl, threading my fingers through his hair.

"What a..." he licks over me and my body jerks in response "...dilemma."

I lift my leg and press my foot to his chest, shoving him away onto the floor. I climb off the sofa and stand over him, yanking up the hem of the shirt.

"I'm still fucking mad at you," I whisper, lowering myself over his body until I'm straddling his hips. I wish I could walk away from him sometimes but he's like my own personal brand of crack. I slam my lips over his and bite down hard, the taste of his blood skates over my tongue. His hands land on my hips with a groan and he yanks me up his body so hard that I have to throw my hands out, catching myself on the coffee table before I fall. The hot caress of his breath over my pussy makes me tremble. His tongue thrusts inside me, hard and demanding. A choked moan slips past my lips and my hips roll of their own violation, seeking more, needing him. He fucks me with his tongue mercilessly until I'm screaming his name and riding his face.

As soon as my body stops trembling, I push to my feet. There’s the smuggest of grins on his face. Blood smears his neck, reminding me of our vicious encounter in the kitchen and all the dismissive words he threw my way. An uneasy feeling settles in my chest. He tells me I'm worthless, then fucks me into submission, and I let him. He makes me so utterly powerless and he revels in it. I move away from him, allowing the shirt to fall back in place before walking out of the room.

I need space. I need a moment to think. I go into the en-suite, pressing my back to the door before I slide to the floor and drag my hands through my hair. Closing my eyes, I think of home, of the villa and the desert heat. I miss it, but when I was there I spent my time thinking only of Ronan. Maybe it was because I thought he was dead. Maybe now I could let him go and walk away. We're under siege. The Horseman is attacking us and, instead of standing together, he's pushing me away. And it's working, because right now I want to run until I'm in Mexico.

I didn't choose to stay with him just to be his prisoner. Perhaps this is how it is with people like Ronan and I. We're lone wolves, incapable of working with others.

I push up from the floor and open the door. I grab the clothes Ronan had for me to change into yesterday: a dress and a pair of heels, then I grab one of his coats. On my way out the door, I grab the credit card I took from Gabriel's office.

I wait at the elevator, surprised that Ronan’s nowhere to be seen. Ping. The doors slide open and I step in. It's only in the second before the doors close that I see Ronan step around the corner from the living room, a glass of brandy in his hand and a mask of indifference on his face.