Page 28 of Lost & Found

The pliers slipped from my fingers and clattered against the concrete. The sound barely registered over the sob that tore out of me. It bounced off the walls of that basement, wounded and feral sounding.

“Take her to the car now,” Sebastian barked.

Hands gripped me one second later. I shoved my hair back. Pasha. I sagged into him, the strength that had carried me through the branding draining from my bones all at once.

“I had to,” I choked. “He called Declan a…I had to—”

“Shh.” His arms locked around me. “I’ve got you, Printsessa.” His voice was thick. His accent was heavier than usual, emotion lacing each syllable.

“Counselor,” he called over his shoulder, tone shifting instantly back to command. “Don’t begin without me.”

My boots dragged across the floor as he half carried me out. The metallic tang of blood and burnt flesh clung to the back of my throat. I could still taste the copper from where I’d bitten my own tongue when I pressed the glowing wire down.

The scream Cameron made echoed in my skull. So did the silence that followed. Pride swelled in me—ugly and magnificent. And right beside it? Horror.

I had done it. I hadn’t looked away.

My mind raced, thoughts colliding like colors spilled onto canvas, intersecting, each brilliant hue demanding attention—screaming to be heard. It created a complex backdrop of conflicting emotions.

By the time we reached the top of the stairs, I was shaking. The interior of Tori’s house blurred in the wake of my tears. I pressed my face into his side, inhaling the clean scent of him. It was like an explosive cocktail of vodka mixed with frozen mint. There were notes of amber and leather. It was rustic and soothing.

Then the night air hit my skin. Outside. The cool wind rushed over me, sharp and clean, cutting through the suffocating heat of the basement. It grounded me and disoriented me all at once.

Pasha didn’t stop walking until we were beside the car. Only then did he turn me toward him. The outside lights on the porch washed over his face in golden shadows. His jaw was tight. That single piece of hair that always curled and flopped in the middle of his forehead softened him.

His eyes searched mine like he was trying to assess damage no one else could see. His hands came up—slow and careful—framing my face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The pads of his thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, catching my falling tears. His touch was warm and steady. There was nothing clinical about it. Nothing detached.

Once more I breathed him in. I realized it was different. Maybe it was the mix of adrenaline. Or maybe I was insane, but he smelled dangerous. I had to look a mess and maybe even a little crazed because soft words in Russian fell from his lips as he caressed my face.

I didn’t understand a lick of it, but I understood the tone. It was low. Protective. Slightly reverent. Something inside me snapped into focus. I had just branded a man who deserved worse. A man who was going to receive worse before the night ended.

He wouldn’t walk out of that basement. He’d be carried in a body bag and taken to a remote property where he’d be reduced to ash. I had to watch horror unfold when I was a child and had done nothing but endure. Tonight, I had been given a rare opportunity.

And I had run with it. I had taken part. Chose the path. Could I do it again?

My hands slid up Pasha’s chest before I could stop them. My breath came shallow and erratic. My entire body hummed—not just with adrenaline. This was a new sensation for me. Power. Release. Something darker.

His fingers stilled against my jaw. “Bella…” he warned.

But there was no censure in it. No rejection. It came out almost as a plea. I moved closer, loving the electric current that raced beneath my skin where his fingers traced. A wild symphony of fear and empowerment had me lifting up on my tiptoes. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or me. Unplanned moments came and went, often presenting themselves as a burst of energy, and you could either seize them or allow them to become a what-if.

What-ifs were what I lived my entire life by. My hands cupped his face, holding him still. His stubble scraped against my palm. His eyes—God—they burned. It was like Baltic amber metallic paint. The usual brotherly fondness was missing.

In its place was understanding. A tremor coursed through my entire body at the intensity staring back. My thoughts spun wildly. I pressed my mouth to his like I needed proof I was still human. For half a second, he didn’t move.

Then something in him broke. His hand slid to my waist and hauled me flush against him as his mouth claimed mine with a hunger that matched the chaos inside me. It wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was my first kiss.

And it consumed me.

The world narrowed to heat and breath. To the scrape of his teeth against my lower lip. He tasted divine. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I answered without hesitation, gripping his jacket to anchor myself. My body’s response staggered me as desire pulsed through my veins.

An owl sounded somewhere in the distance. But there was only him and me. It was feral and raw, volatile. Filled with passion. It didn’t matter that it was insane—what we were doing.

My mind screamed, 'off limits’. My body screamed, ‘give me more’.