DANTE POV
I watch her through the hidden camera as she reads my note.
Her hands shake. Good. Fear is useful. Fear keeps people obedient.
But then her jaw sets—that stubborn tilt I noticed last night—and she crumples the note into a ball. Throws it across the room.
I smile despite myself.
Most people I collect are broken within hours. Begging, crying, promising anything. Octavia Brennan just threw my instructions back in my face.
Interesting.
My phone buzzes. Konstantin's name flashes on the screen.
I let it ring. Once. Twice. Answer on the third ring—eager looks suspicious, but too slow looks defiant.
"Corsaro." I keep my voice neutral.
"You have the Brennan girl?" Konstantin's accent is thick, Russian vowels turning each word into a threat.
"Yes."
"Bring her to me. Today."
My jaw clenches. "She needs conditioning first. She's never been trained. If I bring her now, she'll embarrass you."
Silence. Konstantin hates being embarrassed more than anything.
"Two weeks," he finally says. "Make her perfect. Then I want her delivered."
The line goes dead.
Two weeks. Fourteen days to gather enough evidence to destroy him. To find the financial records, the blackmail files, everything the FBI needs.
And then I hand over an innocent girl to a monster.
My sister Isadora's face flashes through my mind. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked in the morgue after Konstantin staged her "suicide."
Five years I've waited for revenge. Five years undercover, becoming someone I hate, doing things that make me sick.
Two more weeks won't matter.
Except when I close my eyes, I see gray eyes full of defiance and terror.
I grab my jacket and head to the guest room. Time to take Octavia shopping, continue her conditioning, play the role Konstantin expects.
She's ready when I unlock the door. Wearing the black dress, her dark hair still damp from the shower. The dress fits perfectly—I'm good at estimating sizes after years of this work.
But it's her expression that stops me.
Pure hatred. Burning so hot I almost step back.
"Let's go," I say instead.
"Where?"
"Shopping. You need clothes."
"I have clothes. At my apartment—" She stops. Remembers her destroyed apartment. The blood on the walls. Pain flashes across her face before she hides it.
She's good at hiding things. I recognize it because I do the same.
"Your old clothes don't exist anymore," I tell her. "Your old life doesn't exist. The sooner you accept that, the easier this becomes."
"Easy for who?" Her voice is sharp. "Because this seems pretty easy for you. Do you kidnap women often, or am I special?"
The sarcasm surprises me. Most victims don't have fight left after the first night.
"You're not my first collection," I admit. "But you might be my most difficult."
"Good." She lifts her chin. "I hope I make your life hell."
Something twists in my chest. Respect, maybe. Or the ghost of who I used to be, before Konstantin, before the FBI, before I became Dante Corsaro the debt collector.
I almost smile. "Come on, little dove. Let's see how much fight you have left after a few hours with me."
The shopping trip is supposed to break her. Take her to expensive stores, make her try on revealing clothes, remind her she's property now.
That's what I do with other collections. Break them down until delivering them to Konstantin is easy.
But with Octavia, everything goes wrong.
At the first boutique, she picks the cheapest items. When I override her choices with designer dresses, she glares. "This costs more than my entire semester's tuition."
"I don't care."
"Of course you don't." She fingers the price tag. "Rich criminals never care about money."
The sales woman flinches. I should punish Octavia for that comment. Assert dominance.
Instead, I'm curious. "What would you buy if money didn't matter?"
She looks startled by the question. "Why?"
"Answer me."
Her eyes go distant. "Textbooks. The ones I can't afford so I share with classmates. And I'd pay off Mom's medical bills. The real ones, not Dad's gambling debts." Her voice hardens. "But I guess that doesn't matter now since I'm never going back to school."
Guilt knifes through me. Unexpected and unwelcome.
This girl had dreams. A future. And I took it because she was convenient for my mission.
Just like Konstantin took Isadora's future.
I'm becoming the thing I hate.
At the fourth store, Octavia tries to run.
She waits until I'm distracted with the cashier, then bolts for the exit. She's fast—dancer-quick—but I'm faster.
I catch her in the dressing room hallway, pin her against the wall. My hand covers her mouth before she can scream.
"That was stupid," I growl against her ear.
She struggles, but I'm twice her size. Easy to control.
Except her elbow catches my ribs—hard—and I grunt. She's fighting like her life depends on it. Maybe it does.
"Stop," I order. She doesn't. "Octavia, stop or I'll—"
"You'll what?" She twists in my grip to face me. Tears stream down her face but her eyes blaze. "Kill me? Go ahead. Better than whatever you're planning."
We're inches apart, her breathing hard, mine matching. And I notice things I shouldn't.
The way her gray eyes have gold flecks when she's angry. The strength in her small frame. The fact that she's terrified but fighting anyway.
Most people freeze when scared. She attacks.
"I'm not going to kill you," I hear myself say. Gentler than I intended.
"Then what?" Her voice cracks. "What are you going to do to me?"
I should tell her. Should explain exactly what Konstantin wants, what her training will involve, why she should be grateful I'm keeping her instead.
But looking into those eyes, I can't.
"Run again," I say instead, releasing her, "and I'll punish you. Understand?"
She nods, rubbing her wrists where I held them.
We finish shopping in silence. She doesn't speak. Doesn't fight. Just follows me like a ghost.
I should be pleased. Breaking her is the goal.
Instead, I feel sick.
Back at the penthouse, I show her to her room—separate from mine, with a lock on the inside. Small mercies.
"Why?" she asks quietly.
"Why what?"
"Why did you keep me? You said you were supposed to deliver me to Konstantin. Why didn't you?"
It's the same question I've been asking myself for twenty-four hours.
"I don't know," I admit. It's the truth.
She studies me like I'm a puzzle. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Not if you obey."
"That's not an answer."
Smart girl. Too smart for her own good.
"Get some rest," I tell her, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow your real training begins."
"Training for what?"
I pause at the threshold. "To be exactly what Konstantin wants. Obedient. Submissive. Broken."
I close the door before I can see her reaction.
In my office, I pour whiskey with shaking hands. I never shake. Five years undercover and I never once shook.
But Octavia Brennan has been in my home for one day and I'm already compromised.
My phone buzzes. Felix—my FBI handler.
"Status report," he says without greeting.
"The asset is secured."
"Good. Konstantin?"
"Wants her in two weeks. I'm buying time to get closer to his files."
"Good work." Felix pauses. "You sound off. Everything okay?"
"Fine."
"Dante—sorry, Corsaro—don't get attached. She's bait. When this is over, she goes back to her life and you disappear. That's the deal."
I hang up without responding.
On my laptop, I pull up the camera feed from Octavia's room. She's sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, rocking slightly.
She's not crying. I wish she was. Crying would be normal.
Instead, she's staring at nothing with those gray eyes, looking lost and small and so damn young.
Twenty-three. Barely older than Isadora was when she died.
I close the laptop before I do something stupid. Like apologize. Like explain this is all for revenge against the man who killed my sister.
Like tell her I'm not really Dante Corsaro, debt collector and criminal.
I'm Dante Marchesi. FBI. And she's the key to destroying Konstantin Voss.
Even if it destroys her too.
My phone buzzes again. A text from an unknown number:
Heard you kept the Brennan girl for yourself. Interesting choice. Konstantin won't like it. Watch your back, Corsaro.
No signature. But I recognize the threat style.
Sienna Marques. Konstantin's lieutenant and my biggest obstacle.
She knows I have Octavia. Which means Konstantin will hear about it soon if he hasn't already.
I have two weeks to make this work. Two weeks to condition Octavia, get evidence, and figure out how to protect her when everything falls apart.
Two weeks before my carefully built cover explodes.
I look at the closed laptop, knowing she's on the other side of those cameras. Alone. Scared. Hating me.
And I wonder which will happen first: Konstantin discovering I'm FBI, or me falling for the girl I'm supposed to destroy.
Either way, someone's dying when this is over.
I just hope it's not her.