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Chapter 32: The Hunt Begins

Chapter 32: The Hunt Begins

The rain had stopped by the time they left the mansion, but the streets still shone under the dull afternoon light. Dmitri drove himself, one hand resting on the wheel, the other settled firmly on Anya’s thigh. The contact was casual at first, almost absent-minded, but every so often his fingers would tighten slightly, as if he needed the reminder that she was still there beside him.

"Pavel had help," he said after several minutes of silence. His voice was calm, but there was a hard edge underneath it. "No one disappears that cleanly without support."

Anya turned her head to look at him. "You think it’s the Orlovs?"

"Possibly. Or someone who wants me distracted while they move pieces behind the scenes." His jaw flexed once. "Either way, I intend to find out."

They spent the next few hours moving through the city in a controlled pattern. Dmitri met with two of his street-level captains in the back room of a logistics warehouse that officially dealt in construction materials. The conversations were short, precise, and left no room for misunderstanding. New checkpoints were to be placed along the southern routes. Anyone moving product without clearance was to be stopped immediately. No exceptions. No second chances.

Anya stayed mostly quiet during the meetings, watching carefully. She could feel the weight of the men’s attention whenever their eyes flicked toward her. She was no longer seen as just the woman who belonged to Dmitri. Slowly, she was becoming part of the structure itself.

Between meetings, while they sat in the parked car, Dmitri reached over and took her hand. His thumb moved slowly across her knuckles in a steady rhythm.

"You’re quiet," he said.

"I’m watching how they look at you," Anya replied. "And how they look at me."

"And what do you see?"

"Respect. Caution. A little fear." She paused, choosing her words. "They’re still deciding what I am to them."

Dmitri’s mouth curved slightly, though there was little warmth in it. "They’ll learn."

When they finally returned to the mansion, the sky had already darkened into early evening. The moment they stepped into their private wing and the door closed behind them, the controlled stillness Dmitri had carried all day began to crack.

He turned to face her fully. His silver eyes were darker than usual.

"Come here."

Anya walked into his space without hesitation. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened. There was tension in the way he held her, the kind that came from keeping too much control for too long.

"You’ve been in my head all day," he muttered against her mouth.

"Good," she whispered back.

His hands slid down her back, gripping her waist as he pressed her gently against the wall. For a moment they stayed like that, breathing each other in, the rest of the city and its problems locked outside the door.

Dmitri eventually pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes moved over her face as if he were committing every detail to memory. Then he took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

This time there was no rush born from panic or danger. What moved between them was heavier. Need. Possession. The quiet demand to feel something solid after a day spent chasing shadows. Dmitri undressed her slowly, his hands steady but hungry, as if he needed to remind himself that she was real and still his.

Anya pushed his shirt off his shoulders in return, her fingers trailing over the hard lines of his chest. When they finally fell onto the bed, the contact was immediate and heated. Dmitri kissed down her throat, then lower, taking his time as he opened her thighs with deliberate care.

He didn’t thrust into her right away. Instead he pressed forward slowly, inch by inch, letting her body adjust around him until he was fully seated. Anya’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on his arms as the stretch settled deep inside her.

"Look at me," he said, his voice low.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

Only then did he begin to move. The pace was deep and controlled, each stroke measured. The tension he had carried throughout the day bled into the way he took her not frantic, but intense and focused. Anya met him with every movement, her body rising to match his rhythm as heat built steadily between them.

Dmitri shifted the angle, one hand gripping her thigh and pushing it higher against his side. The change drew a sharper sound from her throat. He watched her closely, silver eyes locked on her face, as if every reaction belonged to him.

"That’s it," he murmured. "Take it."

The rhythm grew heavier. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the quiet room. Anya’s breathing turned uneven, her body tightening around him as the pressure built low in her stomach. When he reached between them and stroked her clit with firm, precise movements, she broke with a choked cry, her back arching off the bed.

Dmitri followed soon after, burying himself deep as he came, his body going rigid above her. For several seconds neither of them moved, their breathing harsh in the stillness.

Eventually he eased out of her and pulled her against his chest. Anya rested there, listening to the gradual slowing of his heartbeat while his fingers traced idle patterns along her spine.

"You’re going after him hard," she said quietly.

"Yes."

"And if the Orlovs are protecting him?"

His hand paused for a moment before continuing its slow path along her back. "Then they learn what it costs."

A soft knock came at the door.

Katya’s voice followed from the hallway. "We have something. One of Pavel’s contacts reached out. He’s asking for a meeting."

Dmitri’s eyes met Anya’s in the low light.

The hunt had just taken its first real turn.