The sharp, rhythmic clap of Natalya's hands sliced through the heavy silence of the arena, echoing like a gunshot in the blood-drenched air. The crowd, still stunned by the brutality of the fight, erupted into cheers at the sound, their voices rising in a deafening wave of excitement and awe.
The announcer, snapping back to reality, grabbed the mic with shaking hands, his voice cracking as he declared, "The winner is—Death!"
Natalya stepped into the cage, her leather boots crushing the bodies of her fallen bodyguards beneath her heels, their blood smearing the polished leather.
She walked closer, her dark eyes locked onto me, her gaze sharp and unwavering, like a queen surveying her newest conquest. The crowd cheered, but she ignored them, her attention solely on me.
"You are mine from now on," she declared, her voice cold and commanding, leaving no room for argument. "Do you have any objection?"
I held her gaze, my voice steady, respectful. "I have no objection, Ma'am."
But inside, my mind raced. The thought of such a woman—strong, ruthless, untouchable—falling for me sent a jolt of something primitive through my veins. Anticipation. Challenge.
Natalya smirked, satisfied, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. "Good," she said, her voice smooth as whiskey, but edged with steel. "Now, come with me."
The crowd cheered as we walked out of the arena, Natalya's remaining bodyguards—four armed men—falling into step behind us, their eyes cold, watchful, obedient.
The limo waited outside, sleek, black, armored, a symbol of Natalya's power and influence. She slid into the backseat, her movements fluid, confident, like a predator claiming her territory.
She gestured for me to follow, and I climbed in, my eyes immediately landing on a file resting on the seat—marked with the name "Viper".
Natalya picked it up, her fingers tracing the letters, her eyes scanning the contents with a sharp, analytical gaze. "Viper," she murmured, her voice low, thoughtful. "So that's your real name?"
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. "Yes, Ma'am."
She studied me for a long moment, her gaze piercing, assessing, like a queen deciding the worth of a new subject. Then, she set the file aside, her voice firm, final. "Just call me Boss," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.
"Yes, Boss," I replied, my voice respectful, obedient.
The car started, the engine purring smoothly as we pulled away from the arena. Natalya leaned back in her seat, her eyes narrowing as she studied me, her gaze sharp, calculating. "You look younger than your age," she observed, her voice laced with curiosity, probing. "How old are you, Viper?"
"Old enough to survive, Boss," I replied, my voice even, unrevealing.
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by my evasiveness. "How did you learn to fight like that?" she pressed, her gaze unwavering, demanding. "Was it in prison? Because, according to this," she tapped the file, "you were just a civilian before that."
I nodded, keeping my answer vague, letting the implication hang in the air. "I was lucky to meet some fighters in prison," I said, knowing the weight of my words.
Russian jails were notorious for housing killers, assassins, men who knew how to survive in the darkest corners of the world. She seemed to accept it, nodding slowly as she put the file away, though her eyes remained sharp, searching.
"You killed my personal bodyguards," she said, her voice cold, almost amused, but edged with something dangerous. "Five men, Viper. Five trained fighters. And you ended them like they were nothing." She leaned forward, her gaze intense, predatory. "Tell me, who is going to protect me now?"
"I am sorry, Boss," I replied, my voice sincere, but unapologetic.
She waved a hand, dismissing my apology with a regal gesture. "From now on, you are in charge of my safety," she declared, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something almost excited. "Do you know how to use a gun?"
I nodded, meeting her gaze without flinching.
"Good," she said, leaning back slightly, her voice smooth, but edged with steel. "I didn't know those five were so weak," she muttered, more to herself than to me, her tone laced with disappointment. "I thought they were stronger."
She paused, then fixed me with a piercing gaze, her eyes sharp as blades. "Have you ever met anyone stronger than you, Viper?"
"Yes," I replied, holding her gaze, unwavering. "But only one."
She raised an eyebrow, waiting, her expression unreadable.
"You, Boss," I said, my voice smooth, confident, but edged with something dangerous. "You are stronger than me... because I work for you."
A slow, dangerous smirk curved her lips, her eyes gleaming with amusement, something almost predatory. "Hmm," she murmured, her voice low, dangerous. "I like you more and more, Viper."
But then, her expression darkened, her voice turning cold, deadly, like the edge of a knife. "I hate betrayal the most," she warned, her eyes locking onto mine, unblinking, unforgiving. "And spies. If you lie to me, if you deceive me, I will find out. And I will make you regret it."
I met her gaze, unflinching, unbroken. "I won't let you down, Boss," I promised, my voice steady, final, edged with something dark, something promising.
Natalya reached for a decanter of amber liquor, pouring two glasses with practiced ease. She handed one to me, her fingers brushing mine for a moment, her touch cold, commanding. Then, she drained hers in a single, smooth gulp, her throat working as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving mine.
The car hummed beneath us, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows, the air thick with tension, with promise, with danger. The game had begun.
The amber liquor burned down my throat, smooth yet fierce, much like the woman sitting across from me. Natalya closed her eyes, leaning back against the plush leather seat, her long, toned legs crossing with effortless grace.
The way her lips parted just slightly, the curve of her neck exposed under the dim light, sent a jolt of something primitive through me. I gripped the glass tighter, restraining the urge to reach out, to pull her against me, to taste that arrogant smirk right off her mouth. But I held back. Patience was the key here.
The car glided to a stop, the engine purring softly before falling silent. Natalya's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze sharp and unreadable as she murmured, "We're here."
The door opened from the outside, and I stepped out after her, the cool night air hitting my face. The villa loomed before us—a massive, imposing mansion, its dark stone walls lit by flickering spotlights.
Guards patrolled the perimeter, their rifles slung over their shoulders, eyes scanning the darkness with military precision. Natalya's bodyguards, who had followed us in the second car, stood at attention near the entrance, their faces impassive, their hands resting on their weapons.
Natalya glanced at me over her shoulder, her voice cool and commanding. "Come with me, Viper."
I followed, my boots silent on the marble floors as we stepped into the mansion. The bodyguards stopped at the threshold, their eyes tracking us but never crossing the line.
Natalya noticed my hesitation and smirked, her voice dripping with amusement. "Nobody enters my mansion," she said, "not even my personal bodyguards." Her tone was final, leaving no room for questions.
She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something almost predatory. "But you are different, Viper." Her voice lowered, softer but no less commanding. "This is the first time I've seen someone like you—someone who kills so smoothly, so effortlessly..."
She paused, her gaze raking over me, lingering just a second too long. "Without even a drop of sweat, or a speck of blood on your clothes..." Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "You deserve special treatment."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, intimate purr. "You will be my exclusive secretary—responsible for my safety, and any other tasks I assign to you."
"Thank you, Boss," I replied, my voice steady and respectful, though my mind was already racing with the possibilities.
Natalya turned, ascending the grand staircase to the first floor, her hips swaying with each step, the sight of her ass moving under the tight fabric of her dress making my fingers itch. She glanced back at me, catching my gaze, her lips quirking in amusement.
"This is my room," she said, gesturing to a massive double door at the end of the hallway. "And you take the room next to mine." Her tone shifted, cold and authoritative once more. "As my bodyguard, you need to be alert all the time. Ready to act."
She paused, her eyes locking onto mine, unblinking. "Now go take a rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
I turned toward my room, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The space was already prepared, meticulously arranged—clothes laid out on the bed, tailored to my size. Not the standard-issue bodyguard uniforms, not the bulky, tactical gear the others wore. No. This was different.
A complete black suit, sleek and tailored, the fabric so fine it almost gleamed under the low light. I ran my fingers over the jacket, feeling the quality—expensive, durable, designed for both elegance and lethality.
Beside it lay a long black winter jacket, its exterior smooth and classy, cut to perfection, but when I flipped it open, my fingers brushed against the thick, luxurious fur lining the inside. Warmth and comfort, hidden beneath a layer of sleek, intimidating style.
Exactly the kind of thing a man like me would wear—someone who needed to move unseen, unheard, but still command respect with a single glance.
A gun lay on the dresser, polished and loaded, along with towels and other essentials neatly arranged.
I stripped and stepped into the shower, the hot water washing away the grime of the fight, the tension of the night. My mind raced—Natalya, her power, the way she moved, the way she commanded respect without even raising her voice. And tomorrow—tomorrow, I'd see her again.
I dried off and pulled on the black suit, the fabric molding to my body like a second skin. Then, I activated my AI Lens, focusing on the wall separating my room from hers.
The dim glow of the laptop screen cast a soft, sensual light across Natalya's room, highlighting the curves of her body as she sat on the edge of the bed, her bathrobe clinging to her skin, still damp from the shower.
The silken fabric hugged her thighs, outlining the shape of her legs, the way it draped over her shoulders, barely covering the swell of her breasts. My heart pounded as I watched, my cock already stirring in anticipation.
Then—
She closed the laptop with a sharp snap, setting it aside before standing in one fluid motion.
She reached up, her fingers brushing against the collar of her robe, slowly, deliberately, as if she knew I was watching. The fabric parted, sliding down her shoulders in a teasing motion, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her collarbone, then the black lace of her bra. My breath hitched as the robe slipped further, pooling at her waist, exposing the full curve of her breasts, pushed up by the delicate lace, her nipples hardening under the thin material.
Fuck.
She stood, letting the robe fall completely, sliding down her body like water, until it pooled at her feet. There she was—Natalya, in nothing but black lace panties and a matching bra, her body a masterpiece of curves and edges.
The panties hugged her hips, the fabric so thin I could almost see the shadow of her pussy lips, the way the lace cut into the soft flesh of her ass. Her bra lifted her breasts, making them look fuller, heavier, the cleavage deep enough to make my cock twitch with need.
She turned slightly, giving me a glimpse of her profile, the way her ass curved perfectly, tight and round, begging to be grabbed, squeezed, fucked. The black lace contrasted sharply against her pale skin, making her look even more sinful, more untouchable. My fingers itched to reach through the wall, to tear that lace off her, to feel her skin under my hands.
She climbed onto the bed, the blanket sliding over her legs as she settled under it, turning off the bedside lamp with a flick of her wrist. The room plunged into darkness, leaving only the faint outline of her body under the covers.
But the image was burned into my mind—her snow-white skin, the way the black lace contrasted against it, the long, white legs that disappeared under the blanket, the graceful line of her neck, begging to be kissed, bitten, marked.
My cock stiffened, hard as steel, pulsing with need.
But then—
A sudden, sharp ringing pierced the silence.
Natalya's voice sliced through the darkness—a guttural, venomous snarl: "Motherfucker!" The rustle of fabric followed, sharp and urgent, then a series of heavy thuds: Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps, fast and furious, stormed toward my door.
Before I could react, the door swung open, light flooding the room as Natalya stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing, her chest heaving with rage. "Viper," she barked, "let's go. We've got things to do."
My cock twitched, still hard from the image of her naked body, but now she was fully dressed—jeans hugging her hips, a high-neck top clinging to her torso, a leather jacket zipped up over it, boots laced tight to her calves.
How the hell had she gotten dressed so fast? Fuck, I could still see the ghost of her body under those clothes, the way the fabric stretched over her ass, the way her breasts pressed against the leather.
I shoved the thoughts aside, forcing my mind to focus. "Yes, Boss," I said, my voice steady despite the pulse of need throbbing between my legs.
She didn't notice—or if she did, she didn't care. Her face was a mask of fury, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowed with something dangerous. "I said now," she snapped, already turning away, her boots clicking sharply against the floor.
I grabbed my long coat, yanking it on to hide the obvious bulge in my pants, following her out before she could notice. The cold air hit me as I stepped into the hallway, but it did nothing to cool the heat burning under my skin.
The car engine roared to life as I slid into the seat beside her. Natalya was already barking orders into her phone, her voice low, lethal, each word clipped with controlled rage. "Get the team ready," she growled, "we're moving in ten."
The car's engine growled beneath us, the vibration humming through the seat as Natalya gripped her phone like it was the throat of the man who'd crossed her. Her jaw was clenched, her knuckles white, the air around her crackling with barely contained rage.
I glanced at her, the anger radiating off her like scorching heat, her body coiled like a spring ready to unleash.
"Boss," I said, my voice low, controlled, "what's happened?"
She shot me a look, her eyes burning with something feral, dangerous. "Our weapon consignment was hijacked," she snarled, her voice a razor's edge of fury.
"While it was en route to the port from the warehouse." Her lips twisted into a sneer, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"Someone dares to target it—even knowing it was mine." Her fingers tightened around the phone, her gaze locking onto the darkness outside the window. "They must be tired of living."
The cold certainty in her voice sent a jolt through me. This wasn't just business. This was personal.
She turned her head, her eyes cutting to me like blades. "Be alert all the time, Viper," she ordered, her voice low, lethal, each word a command carved in stone.
The car jolted to a stop, the engine still humming with raw power as Natalya's gaze locked onto the darkness beyond the window. The convoy of cars behind us pulled up, doors slamming as her men spilled out, guns drawn, eyes sharp. The air crackled with tension, the scent of oil, metal, and saltwater filling the night.
Natalya turned to the driver, her voice cold, commanding. "Let's go to the port... directly." Her fingers tightened around the door handle, her knuckles whitening. "If someone has stolen from us, the first thing they'd do is get rid of the goods."
The car lurched forward, tires crunching over gravel as we sped toward the docks. The port loomed ahead, massive containers stacked like giant coffins, shrouded in shadow.
The convoy followed, headlights cutting through the dark, illuminating the hulking shapes of ships moored along the pier.
We reached a clearing, the car skidding to a halt. Natalya didn't wait. "Ask all of them to search all those ships..." she barked at the driver, her voice sharp as a blade. "To see if there's a sign of anyone. Quick."
The driver nodded, relaying the order into his radio. Doors slammed as Natalya's men poured out of the cars, guns raised, flashlights sweeping over the containers. Their boots thudded against the dock, their voices low, tense, echoing in the night.
I watched through the window as they fanned out, disappearing between the towering stacks of steel. The port was eerie, silent except for the distant lap of waves and the crunch of gravel under boots.
Natalya reached for the door handle, but I grabbed her hand.
"Boss," I said, my voice low, urgent. "Wait a minute... Let me—"
Gunfire erupted.
A shout tore through the night—"EVERYBODY ALERT! SNIPERS!"
Cracks of rifle fire split the air. Bodies dropped. Natalya's men collapsed like puppets with cut strings, blood spraying as bullets tore through flesh. The dock exploded into chaos, men scattering, returning fire, shouting orders.
The muffled cracks of gunfire still echoed in the air, the acrid smell of gunpowder mixing with the salt of the port, the metallic tang of blood thick in my mouth.
Natalya's body trembled beneath me, her breath ragged, her fingers clutching the gun so tight her knuckles were white. The car rocked as bullets slammed into the armored doors, the windows spiderwebbing under the onslaught, barely holding.
Then—a loud puff, the car lurching violently as the tires blew. The driver ducked, his voice panicked. "They shot the tires!"
Natalya snarled, "Fuck! Fuck!" Her fingers flew to her phone, her face twisting in rage. "No signal... They must be using a network jammer... Fuck!"
The door handle rattled. Voices shouted outside, rough, mocking. "Open up, bitch!" A gun butt slammed against the window. Again. Again. The glass groaned, cracking under the pressure.
Natalya's breath hitched, but her voice was steel. "The window won't hold on much longer... Not from this close..."
I pressed her down, my body shielding hers as the gunfire intensified, the car shuddering under the barrage. Bullets ricocheted, pinging off the armored plating, the sound deafening.
I felt her heart pounding against my chest, her body tense beneath me. A bead of sweat slipped from her forehead, rolling down the line of her neck, disappearing into the collar of her jacket.
Fuck. Even now, even like this, she was still the most dangerous, most intoxicating thing I'd ever seen.
The shooting stopped. Boots crunched closer, voices shouting orders. "Pry it open!" someone barked.
Metal scraped against metal as they jammed tools into the door seam, twisting, wrenching.
A man stepped forward, protected by a wall of bodyguards, his voice slick, mocking. "Natalya... Why don't you surrender? You have no way out..."
Natalya's body went rigid beneath me. "IGOR!" she snarled, her voice a venomous hiss. "You bastard! You absolute SON OF A WHORE!" Her fingers clawed at my arms, her voice raw with rage. "I'll rip your throat out with my bare hands!"
I held her down, my voice low, urgent. "Boss, stop."
"VIPER, LET ME GO!" she screamed, thrashing beneath me, her voice breaking with fury. "I WILL KILL HIM! I WILL TEAR HIM APART!"
"What are you doing?" I growled, my lips brushing her ear. "He's tricking you. "
The door groaned, then popped open with a sharp crack.
Guns swung inside, muzzles pointed directly at us. The driver didn't stand a chance—a burst of gunfire, and his body jerked, blood spraying across the seat as he collapsed, dead.
Natalya didn't flinch. She stared straight at Igor, who stepped forward, protected by a wall of bodyguards, his smile slick, mocking. "Natalya," he crooned, "why don't you surrender? You have no way out, darling."
Natalya's breath hitched, her body tensing, but she stopped struggling. Her eyes burned into Igor, pure, unfiltered hatred. "Do it, bastard," she spat, "Do you think after killing me you can escape? My father will hunt you down like the dog you are!"
Igor laughed, the sound grating, arrogant. "When did I say I wanted to kill you, Natalya?" His voice dropped, sickeningly sweet, his eyes raking over her like a starving wolf.
Igor's lips curled into a sickening, self-satisfied smirk, his eyes raking over Natalya like she was already his property.
"I wanted to marry you," he crooned, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "but you didn't agree..." His tone darkened, twisted with something ugly and possessive. "So I had to do this..." He spread his hands, feigning helplessness, "It's your fault, Natalya. Now tonight... you're mine."
His gaze flickered to me, amused, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience to be dispensed with. "I don't think my father-in-law will kill me," he chuckled, his voice oozing arrogance, "after knowing I am your husband."
Natalya's face flushed crimson, her body coiling like a spring ready to unleash. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her fingers clenching the gun so tight her knuckles turned white. "Before you touch me," she spat, her voice a razor's edge of pure, unfiltered rage, "I will kill myself."
Her hand didn't tremble.
Igor just looked at her and didn't reply or react...
Igor's gaze flicked to me, his smile twisting into something cruel. "And you, Viper..." He tilted his head, studying me like prey.
"I heard you're quite good..." His tone turned mocking. "First day on the job, yes? Surrender to me... Save yourself the trouble."
I didn't reply to Natalya but looked at Igor.
Natalya's eyes burned into me, raw, betrayed, filled with disgust. "TRAITOR!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
This bastard, Igor, wanted to rape the woman I like.
Rage exploded in my chest.
I spread my telekenesis, scanning the towers, the rooftops. Four snipers. Four necks snapping in unison, their bodies crumpling silently.
Now, only Igor and his men remained.
Natalya's finger trembled on the trigger. She was going to do it. I lunged, grabbing her wrist, yanking the gun away. The shot rang out, wild, hitting the ceiling.
"Are you crazy?!" I growled, ripping the gun from her grip.
Igor misread it. "Good!" he laughed, clapping. "Smart choice, boy! Don't worry, I won't treat you badly... Haa. You made the best choice of your life!"
Natalya thrashed, beating my chest, her voice a venomous hiss. "Motherfucker! I will kill you!" She thought I'd betrayed her.
I didn't fight back.
Not yet.
I nodded to Igor, playing along. "Bring her to my car," he ordered, grinning. "I'm going to have my honeymoon tonight... Good."
I hoisted Natalya into my arms, carrying her like a bride toward Igor's car. She bit my shoulder, hard, drawing blood, hissing, "I will not let you go!"
Natalya's body trembled in my arms, her breath coming in short, furious gasps, her fingers clutching the gun so tight her knuckles were bone-white.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, VIPER!" Natalya snarled, her voice a venomous hiss, her teeth sinking into my shoulder again, harder this time, tearing through fabric and flesh.
Her nails dug into my skin like claws, drawing blood, her body coiled with rage. "I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND GUT YOU LIKE A PIG!"
I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain, the blood trickling down my back. "Boss," I growled, my voice low, urgent, "just—"
"TRUST YOU?!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unfiltered rage. "AFTER YOU JUST HANDED ME OVER TO THAT PIG?! YOU SICK, ROTTEN TRAITOR!" Her eyes burned into mine, wild, betrayed, filled with a hatred so deep it cut worse than any blade.
"I TRUSTED YOU! I LET YOU IN! AND NOW YOU'RE HANDING ME OVER TO HIM LIKE SOME FUCKING COWARD!"
Igor's men surged forward, guns raised, eyes scanning for threats. I wrenched open the back door and shoved Natalya inside.
The second she hit the seat, her hand flashed—a knife materialized from her jeans, lunging straight for my heart.
"Hmm," she snarled, her voice a blade itself, each word dripping with venom, "I told you I'd kill you... before I die."
The knife twisted as she yanked it free, my blood slick on the steel. I didn't heal the wound using Healing Factor.
I let it bleed—let the crimson stain spread across my shirt, let the pain etch itself into my expression.
What better way to bind her to me than guilt? Let her think she'd broken something irreplaceable. Let her drown in the weight of it.
Her breath hitched as she stared at the wound, her fingers trembling around the knife's hilt. For a second, I saw it—the flicker of horror in her eyes. But then her grip tightened, the blade flashing toward her own throat.
"No." My hand shot out, seizing her wrist before the knife could find its mark. My fingers dug into her skin, my voice a ragged growl, "Boss... close the doors. Now."
Her eyes widened—shock, confusion, something raw and unguarded. For the first time, she hesitated. But only for a heartbeat. Then she reacted, her free hand slamming the lock just as I kicked her back into the car and sealed the door between us.
Igor didn't hear our conversation, but he saw everything. His lips curled into a grin, his gaze flicking between Natalya's trembling form and the blood soaking my shirt. "This bitch is really cruel..." His voice was thick with amusement, his eyes locking onto mine. "Thank you, brother—"
I didn't let him finish.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife, still warm with my own blood. In one fluid motion, I raised my arm and hurled it.
The blade spun through the air, a silver streak of death, before burying itself in Igor's forehead with a wet, sickening thud—right between his eyes. His grin froze. His body jerked, as if caught in a spasm, then slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
Blood dripped from the wound, snaking down his face, pooling dark and thick on the concrete beneath him.
For a split second, his men didn't move. Their eyes widened—shock, disbelief, the horrified realization of what had just happened. Then rage twisted their features. Guns snapped up. Fingers tightened on triggers.
I didn't hesitate.
I sprinted toward Igor's body, my boots pounding against the pavement. My hand closed around the hilt of the knife, and with a brutal yank, I tore it free from his skull.
The blade came away with a sickening schlick, Igor's lifeless body toppling forward as if bowing to me one last time.
His men whirled, guns snapping up in unison. I didn't wait for them to fire.
I moved.
The first bullet spat toward me—I twisted, the knife flashing in my hand as I deflected the round. The impact sent a jolt up my arm, but I was already pivoting, my own gun roaring in response. The shooter's chest exploded in a spray of red. He crumpled.
Another bullet—this one closer. I blocked it with the knife, the blade singing as it redirected the shot into the wall behind me. Before the shooter could react, I lunged, driving the knife into his throat. He gagged, blood bubbling from his lips as he collapsed at my feet.
Gunfire erupted. I became a storm of motion—ducking, weaving, striking. My gun barked twice, dropping two more men. A third charged me with a baton. I sidestepped, slashing his wrist. The baton clattered to the ground. My elbow shattered his nose. A bullet to his gut finished him.
The remaining men tried to flank me. I didn't give them the chance. I moved like a shadow, my knife a silver blur, my gun an extension of my will.
Bullets found their marks—chests, throats, foreheads. Knives sliced through flesh and bone. The street became a slaughterhouse. In minutes, twenty-five bodies lay motionless on the ground, their blood painting the concrete black.
Silence.
I staggered, my breath ragged, my vision swimming. Blood still seeped from the wound in my chest, soaking through my shirt, dripping onto the ground. The car door flew open—Natalya was there, her face pale, her eyes wild with horror and something deeper. Something broken.
"I'm sorry..." Her voice cracked, her hands pressing against my wound, her fingers trembling. "I thought—I thought you betrayed me."
Tears streamed down her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Let's go! I'm taking you to the hospital!" She hauled me toward Igor's car, her strength fueled by desperation.
She shoved me into the passenger seat, her movements frantic. The engine roared to life as she wrenched the keys from Igor's corpse.
"Don't sleep," she ordered, her voice raw, her eyes burning with desperation. "That's an order... Or I won't forgive you!"
I managed a bloody smirk, my vision fading at the edges. "Don't worry, Boss..." I coughed, flecks of red on my lips. "I'm fine..."
But the darkness was pulling me under, heavy and relentless.
Natalya's grip on the wheel was so tight her knuckles had turned ghost-white, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "You better be," she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. She glanced at me again, her eyes wild and bloodshot, tears cutting fresh paths down her cheeks. "You have to be."
Looking at her like that—broken, terrified, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning—I couldn't help the dark satisfaction curling in my chest. My plan had worked. I'd carved myself into her soul, and now she was bleeding for me.
But fuck, it hurt. The knife. She'd stabbed me straight through the heart, and the pain wasn't just physical. It was like my ribs were crushing my lungs, like my own heartbeat was betraying me. For a second, I thought I might actually die. Heart attack? No. Worse. It felt like my heart was being ripped apart from the inside.
I triggered my healing factor—just enough to stop the internal bleeding, to keep my heart from giving out. But I left the wound open, the blood still seeping through my shirt. Natalya didn't need to know I was healing. Not yet.
She drove like a woman possessed, the car lurching through the streets, tires screeching around corners. She never let go of my hand, even as the orderlies rushed me onto a stretcher. "Nothing will happen to you," she repeated, her voice a frantic chant, as if she could will it into existence by sheer force. "You're not dying. Not now. Not ever." Her fingers trembled against my skin, her grip desperate, like she was trying to anchor me to the world.
The moment the hospital doors swallowed me, the chaos began. Doctors shouted orders. Machines beeped. Tests were run. Then the bombshell: "His heart is bleeding internally. Without a replacement, he won't make it."
Natalya's face went pale. "What?" Her voice was a whip-crack, her body vibrating with barely contained panic. She grabbed the doctor's collar, her other hand pressing the cold barrel of her gun against his temple. "You're saving him. No excuses. No failures." Her voice broke, just for a second. "If he dies, I'll burn this hospital to the ground with all of you inside it."
The doctor swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Natalya and the gun. "We'll need a donor heart. Immediately."
"Get it," she snarled, shoving him toward the operating room. "I don't care how. Just save him."
She turned back to me, her hands cupping my face, her thumbs brushing away the blood on my lips. "You're not leaving me," she whispered, her voice raw. "Do you hear me? You're not leaving me." Her breath hitched, her tears falling faster. "I can't—I can't lose you. Not like this."
I wanted to smirk, to tell her I was already healing, that this was all part of the game. But the pain was real. The fear in her eyes was real. And for the first time, I let myself feel it.
The second the operating room doors closed, I activated Absolute Hypnosis. Every mind in the room bent to my will. I triggered my healing factor fully, mending every wound, knitting flesh and bone back together. Then I ordered the doctor to wrap me in bandages—just for show—and to act like I was still clinging to life by a thread.
Two hours later, I ended the charade. The doctor wheeled me out; my "recovery" was nothing short of a miracle.
Natalya was waiting, pacing like a caged animal. The second she saw me—alive, breathing, hers—she collapsed to her knees beside the stretcher. Her hands shook as she reached for me, her voice a broken whisper.
"You're alive. You're alive." She pressed her forehead to mine, her tears mixing with the sweat on my skin. "I thought I lost you. I thought—" Her voice cracked. "I don't know what I would've done if—"
I managed a weak smirk, my voice rough but steady. "Told you, Boss. I'm fine."
Natalya let out a shaky laugh, her fingers tightening around mine like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go. "You're a liar," she whispered, her lips brushing my knuckles, her breath warm and unsteady.
As the orderlies pushed me into the ward, I noticed the shift in the air—the presence of armed men outside the door, all dressed in the same uniform as Natalya's bodyguards. My instincts flared. Who are they?
Then I saw him.
An old man stood near the window, his posture rigid, his sharp eyes locked onto me. Natalya's voice softened, a mix of surprise and relief. "Dad... you're here?"
Nikolai turned toward her, his expression a storm of concern and barely contained fury. "Of course I'm here, Natalya. Did you think I wouldn't come when I heard my daughter was attacked?" His gaze flicked to me, assessing, calculating. "Thank you, young man, for saving her."
I gave a slight nod, the movement sending a twinge through my chest. "Boss, I was just doing my job."
Nikolai's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't press further. Instead, he turned his full attention back to Natalya, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone. "Who was it, Natalya? Who dared to lay a hand on you?"
Natalya's jaw tightened, her voice dripping with venom. "It was Igor, Dad. That snake thought he could—"
"Igor?" Nikolai's voice was a whip-crack, his fists clenching at his sides. "That coward wouldn't have the spine to act alone. Someone is pulling his strings." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "You need protection. I've brought bodyguards. They'll follow you everywhere—no arguments."
Natalya's eyes flashed with defiance. "I don't need more bodyguards. I have Viper. He's all I need."
Nikolai's expression hardened. "Natalya, this isn't a request. You were almost killed. You think I'm going to stand by and let that happen again?" His voice softened slightly, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. "I've already lost too much. I won't lose you, too."
Natalya's breath hitched, her defiance wavering. "Dad, I—"
I cut in before she could argue further. "Boss, just let them protect you. We don't know who's behind this. It's better not to take any risks." I met her gaze, letting my concern show. "I don't want anything to happen to you."
Natalya looked between me and her father, her expression torn. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Okay."
Nikolai nodded, satisfied. "I've found the best five bodyguards for you. They'll follow you everywhere—sleeping, eating, even in the toilet."
Natalya's eyes widened in horror. "Dad, what are you—?" She glanced at me, searching for my reaction. I let a flicker of displeasure cross my face.
Nikolai almost smirked. "Don't worry. They're all women."
I exhaled internally. Old man, you almost died just now.
Nikolai continued, "They're waiting for you downstairs. They'll start immediately."
Natalya crossed her arms, her voice sharp. "Dad, I can take care of myself. I don't need a shadow every second of the day."
Nikolai's expression softened, but his tone remained firm. "Natalya, I know you can. But you're my daughter. Let me do this for you. Let me keep you safe." He reached out, cupping her face in his hands. "Please."
Natalya's resistance crumbled. She leaned into his touch, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine. But if they get in my way, I'm sending them back to you."
Nikolai chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Fair enough." He turned to leave but paused at the door, his gaze lingering on me. "Take care of her, Viper. She's all I have left."
I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me. "With my life."
Nikolai left, the door clicking shut behind him. Natalya turned back to me, her fingers still tangled with mine. "You're not in pain, are you? Should I call the nurse?"
I squeezed her hand gently. "Boss, don't worry about me. I'm fine."
She sat on the stool beside my bed, her expression haunted. "That... I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I almost killed you." Her voice cracked. "The doctor had to replace your heart. You can't move too much, okay?"
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Boss, it's not your fault. It's mine. I didn't tell you about my plan."
Natalya's eyes flashed with frustration. "You're an idiot. You should've said something or at least given me a hint!"
I sighed, my voice low and rough. "I needed Igor to believe I'd surrendered. If I'd fought them outright, a bullet might've hit you." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in, my gaze locked onto hers. "I made sure you were in Igor's car because it's bulletproof. I wasn't taking any chances with your life."
Natalya's breath hitched. For a long moment, she just stared at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The air between us felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to mine. "You stupid, reckless bastard," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
She pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing as a thought struck her. "But how did you block those bullets with just a knife?" Her voice was laced with disbelief. "How is that even possible?"
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know... At that moment, I just wanted to save you, Boss." My fingers tightened around hers, my voice raw. "I was afraid if I really died, those guys would hurt you. And I can't live with that."
Natalya's breath shuddered. She tried to compose herself, but her voice was thick with emotion. "Stop talking nonsense." She turned away, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. Her hands trembled slightly as she took a sip, her back to me for a moment.
The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the hospital and the soft rustle of the bodyguards outside the door. I studied Natalya's face—her tired eyes, the dark circles beneath them, the way her shoulders sagged with exhaustion. She hadn't rested at all.
"Boss," I said softly, "you should go back now. Take some rest."
Natalya's head snapped up, her voice sharp. "I'm not going anywhere."
She must have realized how uncharacteristically vulnerable she sounded because she quickly patted the empty bed next to mine—the one meant for a family member or caretaker. "I'll rest here," she said, her voice firmer now, though she still avoided my eyes. "And we'll go back together."
There was a pause, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I... I don't have the habit of leaving my people behind," she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. She lifted her chin, her tone shifting back to its usual command. "And don't forget—I'm your boss. You should just listen to me."
I nodded, my voice gentle. "I'm sorry, Boss. I said something I shouldn't have."
Natalya's expression softened for a split second before she scowled. She hated it when I apologized—it made her feel like she'd won an argument she didn't want to win. "Just... shut up and rest," she muttered, but there was no real bite to it. She settled onto the bed beside me, her hand finding mine again, her grip tight, as if she was afraid I'd slip away if she let go.
I couldn't sleep. Not with Natalya so close, her breath slow and even, her face softened in a way I'd never seen before. She's fallen for me without even realizing it. The thought settled in my chest like a secret I wanted to keep forever.
She had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion finally winning over her stubbornness. The blanket had slipped off her, leaving her legs exposed to the cool hospital air. I used my telekinesis to gently pull the blanket back over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She murmured something in her sleep, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn't wake.
I let myself rest, but my mind was too wired to sleep deeply.
When I woke, the bed beside me was empty. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Natalya stepped out, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. The scent of her shampoo—something sweet, like jasmine and vanilla—filled the room before I even saw her.
She paused when she saw me awake, her expression softening. "You're up."
She came to my side, and I caught the faintest hint of her perfume, clean and fresh, like rain on warm skin. She helped me sit up, her hands lingering on my shoulders, her touch hesitant but firm.
"Do you need to go to the bathroom?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral, but I caught the way her fingers twitched, the way she avoided my eyes. She was trying to act normal, but the faint pink in her cheeks gave her away.
I hesitated, then nodded, feeling a strange mix of amusement and embarrassment.
"I'll go call the nurse," she said, turning away too quickly.
"Boss, I can manage myself," I protested.
Natalya whipped her head back toward me, her eyes flashing. "Stay. Still." Her voice was sharp, brooking no argument. "That's an order."
She jabbed the call button for the nurse, her finger pressing it harder than necessary, as if she were imagining it was my face.
The nurse who walked in was tall, with the kind of confident posture that made it clear she was used to being noticed. And, well... she did have an impressive figure. I glanced at her—just for a second—but it was enough.
Natalya's expression darkened like a storm rolling in, her eyes narrowing into slits as she scoffed under her breath. The look she gave me wasn't just jealousy—it was ownership, raw and unfiltered, like she was daring me to challenge it.
"I just need a wheelchair," she said to the nurse, her voice so clipped it could've cut glass. The nurse, a tall woman with an effortless confidence that seemed to grind against Natalya's nerves, nodded obediently.
"I'll bring it in," the nurse replied, her smile polite but faltering under the weight of Natalya's glare.
The second the door clicked shut behind the nurse, Natalya whirled on me, her arms crossed over her chest like a barricade. "Did she look good?" The question was casual, almost bored, but her tone was a blade—sharp, deliberate, and dripping with something dangerous.
I blinked, widening my eyes in feigned innocence. "What looks good, Boss?"
Natalya's fingers twitched at her sides. Then, before I could react, she pinched my arm—hard. The sting shot through me, but I didn't flinch. Not really. I just let her see it, letting my face twist into an exaggerated wince. "Boss... it hurts."
Her hand jerked back like she'd been burned, her breath hitching. "Oh— sorry, I—" She reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering over the spot she'd pinched, her expression flickering between concern and frustration. "I didn't mean to—"
The door swung open again, and the nurse returned with the wheelchair, her professional smile wavering under Natalya's death stare. "Is there anything—?" she started, her voice tentative.
Natalya didn't even look at her. "No. You can go."
The nurse hesitated, her gaze flicking between us, clearly sensing the tension thick enough to choke on. "Alright. If you need anything else, just—"
"We won't," Natalya cut her off, her voice final.
The nurse didn't argue. She left quickly, the door shutting behind her with a quiet click.
I looked up at Natalya, my expression a mix of amusement and feigned embarrassment. "Boss, why'd you chase her off? I thought you wanted her to help me."
Natalya's eyes flashed, her jaw setting stubbornly. "I said I'd take care of you myself."
I shook my head, pretending to be flustered. "No, no, Boss... How can that be? You're my boss. How can you take care of a subordinate? It's not proper—"
Natalya arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts teasing and commanding. "Hm. Are you the boss... or me?" She leaned in just enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous tone that sent a jolt through me. "Just listen to me, Viper."
I sighed dramatically, putting on my best conflicted expression. "But, Boss—"
She cut me off with a dismissive wave of her hand, her expression shifting into that mock arrogance I knew so well. "What? Don't tell me you're shy." A scoffing laugh escaped her as she shook her head, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I, as a woman, am not shy... but you, as a grown man, are?" She clicked her tongue, her gaze raking over me with exaggerated disappointment. "Pathetic."
Before I could protest further, she suddenly wrapped her arm around mine, pulling me close. "Are you going to wet the bed if you don't go to the toilet?" she asked, her voice laced with faux concern, but her grip was firm, unyielding. "This is an order, Viper. Are you going to disobey me?"
I opened my mouth to argue—"Boss—"
But she didn't give me the chance.
In one swift motion, Natalya lifted me up, her arms sliding under mine as she pressed me tightly against her. My body collided with hers, my chest brushing against the softness of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her bathrobe. The contact was brief but electric, and I felt the way her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing a deep, telling pink.
For a second, she froze, her grip faltering just slightly. Then, with a sharp exhale, she lowered me into the wheelchair, her movements a little more hurried than before. "There," she muttered, her voice suddenly rougher, her fingers lingering on my shoulders for just a second too long.
Natalya pushed the wheelchair toward the bathroom, her movements stiff, her knuckles white around the handles. The air between us crackled with tension, the memory of our earlier exchange still hanging heavy in the silence.
The bathroom was still damp from her shower, the floor glistening under the fluorescent lights. My gaze flicked to the counter—and froze.
A black lace bra and matching panties were draped over the sink, the same ones Natalya had been wearing earlier. The sight sent a jolt through me, and I couldn't help but stare for a second too long.
Natalya followed my gaze and stiffened instantly. "Close your eyes," she snapped, her voice sharp with sudden panic. "Now!"
I obeyed without hesitation, shutting my eyes tight. Behind me, I heard her move quickly—the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of her snatching up the lingerie. A moment later, her voice came again, slightly breathless. "You can open your eyes."
I did. The bra and panties were gone, tucked away out of sight. Natalya stood behind me, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. She avoided my gaze, her jaw clenched.
Without a word, she wheeled me in front of the toilet and helped me stand. I steadied myself against her shoulder, then glanced at her. "Boss... can you turn around?"
Natalya's eyes flicked up to mine, her expression unreadable. "Why should I turn around?" she asked, her voice edged with frustration. "How can I help you if I turn around? You're injured, Viper. Or did you forget that?"
Before I could respond, she reached for the hem of my patient's gown, her fingers gripping the fabric. I quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her. "Boss, don't—"
Her eyes flashed up to mine, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something raw, something vulnerable. "You didn't have a problem with the nurse willing to do that... but you have a problem with me?" Her voice cracked, her fingers tightening around the fabric.
I could see it then—the way her common sense had slipped, the way her jealousy had consumed her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her breath unsteady, like she was on the verge of tears.
"Boss, you're misunderstanding—" I started, but she cut me off.
"Misunderstanding?!" Natalya's voice rose, sharp and trembling with a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that sounded almost like fear. "I saw the way you looked at her, Viper! Like she was something special! Like she was—" She cut herself off abruptly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to rein in her emotions. Her hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles turning white. "Like she was worth something!" she finally spat out, her voice cracking.
I reached out, gently gripping her wrist, my voice soft but firm. "Boss, you're imagining things. There's no one in this world but you. You're the only one I see."
"Then prove it!" she snapped, her voice breaking with raw, unfiltered emotion. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish, as she glared at me. Without another word, she grabbed the waistband of my pajama bottoms and yanked them down in one swift, angry motion.
And then she froze.
Her breath hitched as she took in the sight of me—hard and throbbing, my cock already reacting to her touch, her proximity, the charged energy between us. Her eyes widened, her face flushing a deep, burning crimson that spread down her neck and ears.
"You—you pervert!" she stammered, quickly turning her head away, her hand flying up to cover her eyes.
"How can you—how are you even—?" Her voice was a tangled mix of shock, embarrassment, and something else—something she couldn't quite hide. Something almost fascinated.
I tried to explain, my voice low and steady. "Boss, it's not my fault. It's just—"
"Then is it my fault?!" she demanded, whirling back to face me, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something far more vulnerable.
I nodded slightly, my voice gentle. "Boss... I'm a man. And it's morning. This is just... a normal reaction when I'm around you."
Natalya took a shaky breath, her entire face and neck flushed a deep red. She looked away again, her fingers pressing against her temples as if she could will herself to disappear. "OK... Ok... just—just shut up and do your thing..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with embarrassment.
I adjusted myself and started peeing, the sound of my stream hitting the toilet water filling the small bathroom.
Natalya stood stiffly beside me, her back turned, her shoulders tense. I could almost feel the heat radiating off her, her embarrassment so palpable it was like a physical presence in the room.
After I finished, she asked quietly, her voice muffled, "Are you... done?"
I hummed in response, "Hmm."
Natalya moved back toward me, bending down and trying to pull my pajama bottoms up from behind. Her hands hesitated, not daring to move forward—my cock was still in the way, preventing the fabric from sliding up smoothly. "Why isn't it moving up?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance and a hint of frustration.
I chuckled softly, reaching down to adjust myself. "Boss, I can do it myself now..."
I grabbed the pajama bottoms and tucked my cock inside, pulling the fabric up to my waist. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Natalya peeking from behind, her cheeks flushing even more as she realized why the pajama hadn't gone up smoothly.
She quickly averted her eyes, pretending she hadn't noticed anything, but the deep blush spreading across her face gave her away.
She didn't say anything, ignoring it completely, but she helped me sit back down in the wheelchair. As she pushed me toward the sink, she helped me wash my hands, even going so far as to dry them gently with a towel.
The way she fussed over me, her movements careful and tender, made her look like a devoted wife caring for her husband.
The thought made my chest tighten. I wanted to pull her close, to feel her lips against mine, her body pressed against me, to tell her everything I felt but couldn't say out loud.
I looked at her, my voice soft and filled with genuine affection. "Thank you, Boss..."
Natalya's hands stilled for a moment, her breath hitching slightly. She glanced at me, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions—embarrassment, concern, and something softer, something almost tender. "You don't have to thank me," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "It's my job to take care of you as your Boss."
I reached out, gently taking her hand in mine, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "No, Boss," I said, my voice low and sincere. "It's not just your job. It's you."
Natalya's breath caught, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at me. For a moment, she seemed frozen, caught between her fierce independence and the vulnerability she rarely showed. Then, slowly, she squeezed my hand back, her fingers trembling just slightly.
Natalya's fingers slipped from mine like she'd been burned, her breath hitching as she adjusted her damp hair with flustered movements. The bathrobe clung to her curves, the fabric still slightly damp from her shower, releasing faint wisps of jasmine and vanilla into the air between us.
She pushed the wheelchair with more force than necessary, the wheels squeaking slightly against the hospital floor.
As she helped me back into bed, her movements were precise but charged with an undercurrent of tension. She tucked the blankets around me with almost aggressive care, her fingers brushing against my chest before snatching back like she'd been shocked.
"I'm going out... for a bit," she muttered, avoiding my eyes as she fussed with the hem of her robe. "You should just rest. And if you need anything—" Her voice cracked slightly. "Just call me. Not the nurse. Me."
Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and strode out, the door clicking shut with finality. I barely had time to process her sudden departure when the door swung open again.
Natalya stood there, her expression stormy, five stunning women arrayed behind her like a personal army. Each bodyguard was tall, beautiful, and eerily expressionless, their presence making the hospital room feel suddenly smaller.
Natalya's jaw was set, her eyes flicking between me and the women with barely concealed irritation. "Viper," she said, her voice tight with restrained emotion, "we're going home. Doctor Socotr cleared it."
The bodyguards fanned out silently as Natalya moved to my side. Her hands gripped my arms with possessive strength as she helped me into the wheelchair.
I could feel the heat radiating off her, smell the faintest hint of her shampoo as she leaned in. The nurse from earlier—hovered nearby, her presence clearly grating on Natalya's nerves.
As we made our way to the car, Natalya's grip on the wheelchair handles was white-knuckled.
The bodyguards formed a protective semicircle around us, their professional demeanor doing little to ease the tension crackling in the air. When we reached the vehicle, one of the women opened the door with practiced efficiency.
Natalya helped me into the backseat with more force than necessary, her hands lingering on my waist before she abruptly pulled away. As she folded the wheelchair and stuffed it into the trunk, I caught Helen watching us with wide eyes. Natalya noticed, too, her expression darkening as she turned back to the nurse.
"You," Natalya said, her voice icy, "sit in the front."
Helen complied without argument, sliding into the passenger seat with a nervous glance over her shoulder. Natalya settled beside me in the back, her thigh pressing against mine as one of the bodyguards took the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, and Natalya leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear.
"Doctor Socotr allowed us to take you home," she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, "but Nurse Helen will be monitoring your progress. She'll be coming with us."
I glanced at Helen, who looked increasingly uncomfortable surrounded by the imposing women.
Natalya followed my gaze, her fingers digging into my thigh as she leaned even closer. "Don't be too happy," she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."
I turned to face her, my voice gentle. "Boss, you're getting the wrong idea. It's not like that—"
Her reaction was immediate. Natalya's hand shot out, grabbing my ear with a sharp twist that made me wince. "Hm," she hissed, her eyes flashing with possessive fury, "are you arguing with the boss?"
"No, Boss," I said quickly, "I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
She released my ear with a hum, though her expression remained stormy. I noticed Helen shifting uncomfortably in the front seat, her eyes darting between us and the bodyguards. Curious, I activated my AI Lens, focusing on the driver.
Name: Polina Ovechkin
Age: 29
Profession: Private Bodyguard
Specializations: Close-quarters combat, tactical driving, advanced firearms.
Notable Traits: Former Spetsnaz operative, fluent in 7 languages, expert in surveillance and counter-surveillance
Before I could read further, Natalya's fingers dug into my waist, twisting sharply. "You are a pervert," she growled, her voice a dangerous purr. "What are you looking at now?"
I quickly closed the AI display, my voice innocent. "Nothing, Boss. I'm not looking at anything."
"Liar," Natalya accused, her breath hot and sharp against my neck as she suddenly cupped her hands over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Her fingers pressed firmly, her thumbs resting against my temples, her touch both controlling and oddly intimate. "Close your eyes," she commanded, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "You will open them when I tell you to."
I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Boss."
I felt her hands linger for a moment longer than necessary before she finally pulled away. The car fell into silence, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of Natalya's body beside me. I could feel her watching me, her presence a warm, possessive weight against my side.
Ten minutes later, I heard Polina speak for the first time, her voice cool and professional. "Boss, we are here."
Natalya's grip on my hand tightened almost imperceptibly. "Go grab the wheelchair from the back," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.
A moment later, Natalya's breath was hot against my ear again. "Open your eyes now."
I obeyed, blinking as my vision adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming into the car.
The other four bodyguards had already exited their vehicle, that was parked behind our car and were standing at attention beside Natalya's door, their expressions impassive.
Helen was also climbing out, her movements nervous as she glanced at the imposing women surrounding her.
Then, I felt a shift in the air as the door beside me opened. I turned my head and found myself face-to-face with Polina.
This close, I could see the intricate details of her features—the high cheekbones, the piercing blue eyes, the full lips that were currently pressed into a neutral line.
She was undeniably beautiful, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that accentuated her sharp features.
But before I could fully take her in, Natalya had come to my side door, and her hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at her instead. Her eyes were blazing with possessive fire, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Helen hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, her fingers brushing against the handles of the wheelchair. "I'll take that—" she began, her voice polite but uncertain.
Natalya's head snapped toward her, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice low and lethal. "Who asked you to hold it?"
Helen froze, her fingers immediately retreating as if burned. "I-I just thought—"
"You thought wrong," Natalya cut her off, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. The nurse took a quick step back, her face pale, her hands clutching at her uniform like a shield.
Natalya turned back to me, her movements abrupt as she grabbed my arm and pulled me gently toward her. I played along, letting my body sway slightly—just enough to make it look like I was losing my balance.
Polina reacted instantly, her reflexes honed by years of training. She caught me, her hands steadying my shoulders, and for a brief moment, my chest pressed against hers.
I could feel the firmness of her body, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her uniform. Her expression didn't change—not even a flicker—but I caught the way her breath hitched, just for a second.
Natalya's eyes flashed with fury. "Viper!" she snapped, her voice laced with panic and possessiveness. "Are you okay?"
Before I could respond, she yanked me back against her, her arm wrapping around my waist with a strength that brooked no argument.
She helped me sit back in the wheelchair, her movements rough but careful, her glare fixed on Polina. The bodyguard still had one hand on my shoulder, supporting me, but Natalya's eyes burned with a silent command.
Polina's hand dropped instantly, her fingers retreating as if scalded. She took a step back, her expression impassive, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her.
Natalya didn't say a word. She didn't need to. The message was clear: Mine.
With a sharp exhale, Natalya took control of the wheelchair, her grip on the handles so tight her knuckles turned white. She pushed me forward, her strides quick and purposeful, leaving the others behind without a backward glance.
The mansion's grand doors loomed ahead, and Natalya didn't slow down as we crossed the threshold, the wheels of the chair rolling smoothly over the marble floors.
Once inside, Natalya finally stopped, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as if she'd just run a marathon. She crouched in front of me, her hands gripping the arms of the wheelchair so tightly I could see her knuckles whitening. Her eyes searched mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths—concern, possessiveness, and something softer that she quickly masked.
Without a word, she stood abruptly and moved to the sofa, sinking into it with a sigh. I watched as two of the female bodyguards silently excused themselves and went to the kitchen.
They returned moments later with glasses of water, one for Natalya and one for me, before disappearing back into the kitchen, where the clatter of pots and pans soon followed. Helen lingered behind me, her presence like a shadow I could feel but not see.
One of the bodyguards stepped outside and returned with a sleek black briefcase, handing it to Helen. "Here, this is yours," she said, her voice professional and detached.
Helen took it with a nervous nod. "Yeah…" She opened the briefcase and began checking its contents, her fingers trembling slightly as she sorted through what looked like medical supplies and documents.
I turned my attention back to Natalya, my voice low. "Boss… did you find out who was behind Igor?"
Natalya shook her head, her expression darkening. "No. But we will soon find out." Her voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "And I will kill them all myself."
I noticed Helen flinch slightly at Natalya's words, her hands pausing mid-motion before she quickly resumed her task. Natalya didn't care. Her eyes never left mine, burning with fierce determination.
"You don't have to worry about it," she said, her voice softening slightly as she turned her full attention to me. "Your job is to rest and quickly heal yourself so that… so that you can serve me well."
I nodded, my voice sincere. "I will definitely not forget Boss's life-saving grace. And—"
"You," Natalya cut me off sharply, "don't talk."
I quieted down, but not before I saw Helen gather her courage and step closer. She glanced at Natalya, her voice hesitant. "I… I want to take his temperature. Can I?"
Natalya gave a curt nod, her eyes never leaving mine. Helen crouched down in front of me, and I couldn't help but notice the way her uniform stretched slightly over her tits. My eyes flickered there for just a second—just long enough for Natalya to catch it.
Helen cleared her throat, her voice trembling slightly. "Can… can you open your mouth?"
She placed a digital thermometer between my lips. It beeped a few seconds later, and she pulled it out, her eyes flicking to the reading. "It's normal," she said, her gaze darting to Natalya.
Natalya's eyes narrowed. "Is there anything he can't eat or drink?"
Helen shifted uncomfortably. "It's better to eat a lot of vegetables and no fried or heavy food… for now. And no alcohol, as it's bad for his heart."
Natalya turned to Polina, who was standing silently beside her. "You heard her. Go tell them inside the kitchen."
Polina nodded and disappeared into the kitchen without a word.
Helen coughed lightly, her eyes flicking between Natalya and me. "I… I think…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Natalya's head snapped toward her, her expression sharp. "What is it?"
Helen swallowed hard. "I think it's best for the patient to lie down… instead of sitting here."
Natalya's face went blank for a second before her expression shifted into one of sheer, unadulterated fury. She stood up abruptly, her voice a dangerous growl. "Viper, I'm sorry…"
Then she whirled on Helen, her voice rising to a thunderous shout. "Why didn't you say it EARLIER?!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her entire body vibrating with rage.
Helen shrank back, her face pale. "I—I didn't think—"
"You didn't think?!" Natalya snapped, stepping closer, her eyes blazing. "He's injured, and you're just standing there like an idiot?! If anything happens to him—"
I reached out, gripping Natalya's wrist gently. "Boss, it's okay—"
"It's not okay!" she snapped, though her voice softened slightly as she looked at me. She took a deep breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down.
Natalya pushed my wheelchair into one of the ground-floor rooms with determined strides, Helen trailing behind us like a nervous shadow. The room was spacious, the late afternoon light filtering through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow.
Natalya helped me onto the bed, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the storm brewing in her eyes. As she stepped back, she suddenly seemed to realize she was still in her bathrobe, the fabric clinging slightly to her curves. A rare flush crept up her neck as she looked down at herself.
"I'm going to change my clothes," she muttered, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. She turned to Helen, her tone shifting to something dangerous, like the edge of a blade. "Call me if he needs anything. Anything at all."
Helen nodded frantically, her fingers tightening around her medical bag. "Y-yes, ma'am."
When Natalya left, Helen remained standing awkwardly by the bed, shifting from foot to foot. I sighed, my voice gentle. "Nurse Helen, you can sit down. You don't have to keep standing there all the time. You must be exhausted."
Helen shook her head quickly. "No, no, I'm fine, sir. Really."
I tried to reassure her. "Don't take Boss's words to heart. She's not a bad person. She just… cares deeply about her people. More than she lets on."
Helen's face twitched, and I caught the flicker of something in her expression. Using my telepathy, I heard her thoughts:
[Not a bad person? She's a gangster! Always thinking of killing people! And you're saying she's not a bad person? This man is either dumb or pretending to be… That woman is clearly in love with him… Doesn't he see that? She's so possessive of him… OMG! But… he's right about one thing… she does care. More than she should… And he's so handsome…]
Helen quickly masked her thoughts with a forced smile. "Of course, sir. You're very kind."
She cleared her throat, her professional demeanor slipping back into place. "Do you feel any pain or discomfort in your wound, sir? If you do, I can give you some painkillers."
I shook my head. "No, I feel fine, really."
Just then, Natalya returned, now dressed in her signature jeans, a high-neck top that hugged her curves, and a leather jacket that made her look every bit the formidable leader she was. "What are you two talking about?" she asked, her eyes flicking between Helen and me with suspicion.
I answered honestly. "Nurse Helen was just asking if I needed painkillers."
Natalya nodded, then turned her sharp gaze on Helen. "What are you asking him for? Didn't you read his report? His wound was severe. He must be in pain. Give him some painkillers. And sleeping pills. He needs to rest properly at night."
Helen shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Natalya, first, let the patient have something to eat. Then he can have those medicines. It's not good to take them on an empty stomach."
Natalya nodded curtly and walked out.
When she returned, Polina was with her, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a dish filled with lightly seasoned vegetables. Natalya instructed Polina to put the tray on the bed, then helped me sit up, adjusting the pillows behind me with careful hands.
"Let me feed you," she said, her voice softer but still carrying that underlying command.
I shook my head. "Boss, my arms are fine. And honestly, it isn't hurting. I can eat myself."
I looked into her eyes, seeing the dark circles beneath them, the way her usually sharp gaze seemed tired and vulnerable. "Boss, you probably haven't eaten anything since yesterday, right? Just eat something yourself first."
Natalya waved a hand dismissively. "You eat first. I'll eat later."
I insisted. "No, how can I eat before my boss? It's not right."
"I'm not hungry," Natalya said, but her stomach chose that moment to betray her with a loud, embarrassing growl.
Helen let out a muffled chuckle, quickly covering her mouth as Natalya's face flushed crimson. I used my telepathy to catch Natalya's frantic thoughts:
[OMG!! What is happening to me? I'm so embarrassed… Why am I behaving like this? Why am I so worried about what Viper will think of me? I'm his boss! I'm supposed to be in control!]
I coughed lightly to cover the moment, turning to Helen. "Nurse Helen, can you ask someone to bring a plate for the boss? She needs to eat, too."
Natalya interjected quickly, her voice sharp. "Ask them to put the same thing in my plate as his. I want to see how his food is."
Helen nodded and left the room. Polina returned shortly with another plate and handed it to Natalya before silently exiting.
I looked at Natalya's plate, then back at her. "Boss, you're not sick. Why are you eating this bland food? You should eat something you actually enjoy."
Natalya scoffed. "Hmph. I'll eat whatever I want. Don't tell your boss what to do."
She took a sip of the soup, then nodded approvingly. "It's not bad. You should try it too."
I took a sip as well, and we ate in a comfortable silence, me sitting on the bed and Natalya on the chair beside me. As we ate, I noticed a drop of soup lingering above Natalya's lips. Without thinking, I reached out and gently wiped it away with my finger.
Natalya's eyes widened in shock.
I pulled my hand back quickly, pretending to panic. "Boss, I'm sorry. It's just that there was some soup… above your lips. I didn't mean to— It won't happen again."
Her voice was sharp, but I could hear the tremor beneath it. "Shut up…" she snapped, her face still flushed. "You're injured… Otherwise I would've beaten you up… How dare you touch your boss…"
Natalya's face turned a deep red, but her thoughts were completely different from her words:
[What is this feeling? Why does my skin burn where he touched me? Why do I want him to do it again? I must be crazy… Yeah, I must be losing my mind…]
[But why does my heart pound when he's near? Why do I feel this… this need to be close to him?]
[But then why do I get jealous when he even looks at another woman? Why does it feel like my chest is being ripped open?]
[This isn't me... I don't get attached... I don't care like this...]
[But I do... I care about him... More than I should...]
Natalya shook her head, trying to regain her composure, then snapped at Helen. "What are you looking at? Why don't you give him his medicine? What kind of nurse are you? I should fire you for incompetence!"
Helen didn't dare to talk back, just nodded quickly and took out two pills—one painkiller and one sleeping pill. She was about to feed them to me, but Natalya snatched them from her hand and came closer to me.
"Open your mouth," she commanded, her voice firm but her hand trembling slightly as she held out the pills.
I obeyed, opening my mouth as she placed the pills on my tongue. Her fingers brushed against my lips, sending a jolt through both of us. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way her breath hitched as she pulled her hand back.
The glass trembled slightly in Natalya's hand as she pressed it into mine. "Here, drink some water," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, cracked with something fragile and unnameable. Her fingers brushed against my skin, sending a current through both of us. I could see the storm in her eyes—confusion, terror, something so raw it made my chest ache.
As I swallowed the pills, I looked up at her. Her thoughts were a tempest of emotion, each one more vulnerable than the last:
[Maybe this... this ache in my chest... It's because he saved my life... That must be it... Just gratitude...]
[Yes, that's all it is... Gratitude...]
[I should leave... Before I do something stupid... Before I show him how weak I've become...]
[But my feet won't move... My heart won't let me...]
She turned abruptly to Helen, her voice sharp with barely contained emotion. "Nurse Helen, you can stay in the next room."
Helen hesitated, her voice trembling. "Miss, I need to stay with the sir... If he needs anything... And to monitor his temperature..."
Natalya's thoughts spiraled wildly, her internal voice a desperate whirlwind:
[No... NO... What if she touches him? What if she looks at him the way I do?]
[What if she sees him vulnerable and he looks at her with those damn eyes that make my stomach flip?]
[I can't let them be alone... I can't...]
[No... I can't even think it...]
I lay down, pretending to fall asleep, my breathing slow and steady. Natalya's panic was immediate and visceral.
"Viper! VIPER!" she called out, her voice breaking with terror. She grabbed my shoulder, shaking me gently, her touch desperate.
Helen quickly intervened, her voice calm but urgent. "Miss, he's fine... It must be the sleeping pill. He must have fallen asleep."
Natalya didn't respond. Instead, she moved to the other side of the bed and climbed up beside me.
The scent of her—jasmine and gunpowder and something uniquely her—filled my senses. My mind raced:
[She's actually going to sleep beside me?]
[If she keeps this up, I won't be able to controlmyself...]
[But God, I don't want her to stop...]
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Polina's voice came through, cautious. "Boss..."
I could almost see her eyes flicking between Natalya and me. I kept pretending to be asleep, my breathing even.
Natalya made a shh sound, her footsteps light as she moved to the door. Polina entered quietly, her voice low and urgent.
"Boss... We've found out who was behind this attack."
Polina's voice was grave, laced with urgency. "It was that Italian Mafia guy, Vito. He wanted to use Igor's hand to kidnap you... and blackmail Boss Nikolai..."
Natalya's entire body went rigid. Her thoughts were a storm of fury and terror:
[They wanted to kidnap me?]
[They wanted to use me against my father?]
[But they almost took Viper from me...]
[They almost killed the man who... who...]
She asked, her voice a deadly whisper. "Where is that guy Vito now?"
Polina's response was immediate. "He is staying with Igor's father, Sergie... They must have gotten the news of Igor's death... and must be planning to take revenge on you, boss... At all costs..."
Natalya's voice was a blade, sharp and lethal. "Revenge on me?" Her thoughts were a whirlwind of violence and heartbreaking vulnerability:
[Revenge?]
[They want revenge for that piece of trash, Igor?]
[They want to hurt me?]
[They have NO IDEA what I will do to them...]
[I will make them BEG for death...]
[Because they almost took Viper from me...]
[And if I lost him...]
[I don't know what I would do...]
[I don't know who I would be...]
[I can't forgive myself for almost killing him...]
[The guilt is eating me alive...]
[So I need to kill them... I need to bathe in their blood...]
[Only then will this pain in my heart stop...]
[Only then will I be able to breathe again...]
[But what if something happens to me?]
[What if I don't come back?]
[NO... I can't think like that...]
[I have to come back...]
[I HAVE to...]
[Because he's mine...]
[And I'm his...]
[Even if he doesn't know it yet...]
[Even if I'm too scared to say it...]
She turned to Polina, her voice a command laced with desperate emotion. "Call our whole army. I am going to end them all now... And ask them to bring every weapon... Possible grenade launchers... machine guns... smoke bombs... Everything."
Polina hesitated, her voice cautious. "But boss... Shouldn't we inform Boss Nikolai?"
Natalya's eyes flashed dangerously, her thoughts a storm of conflict:
[I can't tell my father...]
[He'll try to stop me...]
[He'll say it's too dangerous...]
[But I don't care...]
[I need to do this...]
She snapped at Polina, her voice a whip-crack of authority and fear. "Are you my subordinate or my dad's? Just listen to my order or go back to my dad."
Polina nodded quickly, her voice firm. "I will... I will call everyone..."
I heard Helen gasp softly, clearly shocked by the sudden talk of weapons and revenge. Polina left the room, and I felt Natalya's fingers tracing my face with heartbreaking tenderness. Her thoughts were a mix of guilt, love, and fierce determination:
[Viper... My Viper...]
[I will kill everyone who ever thought of hurting you...]
[Because of them, I almost lost you...]
[I don't know why... We've only known each other for a day...]
[But it feels like my heart has known you forever...]
[Every time I close my eyes, I see you fighting for me...]
[I see you bleeding for me...]
[I can't forgive myself for almost killing you...]
[So I need to kill them all...]
[I need to make sure you're safe...]
[Because I can't lose you...]
[I can't lose the only person who makes me feel...]
[Who makes me feel like I'm worth something...]
[Who makes me feel like I'm not just a monster...]
[I know you don't blame me...]
[But I blame myself...]
[And I will never forgive myself...]
[Unless I make sure no one can ever hurt you again...]
Polina returned swiftly, her boots clicking against the marble floor. "Boss, the team will be assembled in ten minutes. They're bringing the full arsenal as requested."
Natalya stood abruptly from the bed, her leather jacket creaking as she moved. Her expression was deadly serious, but I could see the storm of emotions in her eyes—love, fear, and a fierce determination that made my chest tighten.
Her thoughts were a whirlwind: [Polina is reliable... She'll keep him safe...]
[But what if she's not enough? What if something happens to him while I'm gone?]
[No... I have to trust her... I have no choice...]
"Polina..." Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the turmoil within. "I'm giving you a task. Viper's safety is in your hands. When he wakes up, don't tell him where I am. Understood?"
Polina nodded solemnly, her expression grave. "Understood, Boss. I'll protect him with my life."
I had already discreetly summoned two shadow guards, assigning them to follow Natalya unseen. I couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt because of me.
Natalya's fingers lingered on my cheek, her touch feather-light but charged with emotion. Her thoughts were a tempest: [Viper...]
[I will come back to you... I promise...]
[Because you're mine... And I'm yours... Even if I'm too scared to say it...]
She turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing with purpose, her heart heavy with emotions she couldn't yet name. I lay there, my mind racing with everything I'd just heard—her fierce protectiveness, her guilt, her unspoken love.
She would burn the world down to keep me safe.
I knew why Natalya was so concerned. Igor had died by my hand, and his allies would seek revenge on me. She was doing this to protect me.
I could feel Polina's gaze on me. Using my telepathy, I heard her thoughts: [Boss is clearly in love with Viper... Does he know that? Does he feel the same?]
I pretended to sleep for about ten minutes, then woke suddenly, pretending to be in the grip of a nightmare. "Boss... NO!"
Polina's thoughts were surprised: [Is he having a nightmare about Boss?]
I sat up abruptly, pretending to be in pain. "Where is Boss? I need to see her right now!"
Polina stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Boss is asleep. You can see her in the morning."
I looked at Helen, who seemed hesitant. Polina insisted, "Stop shouting. She's asleep. Don't disturb her."
But Helen's voice cut through the tension. "No... No, she's lying. I heard your boss is leaving. She went to kill some Vito guy—the one behind your attack. She left her here to protect you and took her whole army with her."
Polina snapped at Helen, "Shut up! Stop lying!"
I looked at Polina, my voice sharp with urgency. "Is that true?"
Polina hesitated, her voice filled with reluctance. "It doesn't matter. You're injured. You need to rest."
I looked at her angrily. "Tell me where she is!"
Polina sighed, her voice filled with resignation. "What are you going to do? You can barely walk. You might put her in even more danger."
I said firmly, "I would die before I let anything happen to her because of me."
Polina cursed under her breath. "Damn it... I know Boss is going to kill me for this... But if anyone can stop her, it's you."
She gave me the address where Natalya was headed and handed me her gun. "I'll get you some clothes. The black suit should fit over your bandages."
She went out and returned quickly with the suit. I put it on, wincing slightly as the fabric pulled against my wounds.
Polina watched me, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "I'm coming with you."
I saw the resolve in her eyes and thanked Helen. "Thank you."
Helen nodded slightly, her face pale but determined.
Polina started the car and drove at breakneck speed. We finally reached the mansion and saw the grim scene—dead bodies of Sergie's and Vito's men scattered all around, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood.
Polina and I exchanged a glance. "Stay behind me," she ordered, but I walked beside her, my gun at the ready.
We entered the mansion, stepping over dead bodies and broken walls, the air thick with smoke. Suddenly, we heard maniacal laughter.
"You... Where is the man who killed my son?"
I moved to the balcony and saw Natalya below, surrounded by her people. The other female bodyguards formed a protective circle around her as she confronted two men. I used my AI Lens to identify them—Vito and Sergie, Igor's father.
Natalya's voice was ice-cold. "I am the one who killed your son. He deserved to die. I only regret killing him so quickly. I didn't get to torture him."
Sergie's voice dripped with venom. "Shut up, bitch. I know it was that man you brought, Viper. He killed my son. Don't deny it. I saw the dash cam of your car. It recorded how he killed my son. I want him dead."
Natalya's eyes blazed with fury. "You want him? Then you'll have to go through me."
Polina and I exchanged a glance. "We need to get down there," she whispered urgently.
I nodded, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. "Let's go."
We moved forward together, ready to stand by Natalya's side in the battle to come. The air was thick with tension, the stench of blood and gunpowder filling our nostrils. I could see Natalya's fierce determination, the way she stood protectively in front of her people, ready to burn the world down to keep me safe.
Polina gripped her gun tighter. "Stay close. We don't know how many more men they have inside."
I nodded, my mind racing. "We stick together. And we make sure Boss comes out of this alive."
Polina's eyes flashed with resolve. "And you too, Viper. Boss would never forgive me if anything happened to you."
We descended the stairs quietly, our footsteps muffled by the chaos of the battle raging outside. As we reached the bottom, we could see Natalya standing her ground, her gun raised and her expression deadly.