Kyle’s voice slipped through the door, rough and cold, in Russian—a language I didn’t understand but had learned to fear. It wasn’t just the words; it was the tone. There was a seriousness there to his words that made my chest tighten.
Judas had never reacted like this before. He was always in control, always coldly amused or calculating. But now, he stiffened behind me and his body went rigid against my back.
His fingers were still buried inside me and they suddenly stilled. And then, slowly, torturously, they slid out of me, leaving an emptiness that matched the sudden shift in the air. The warmth of his touch turned into a harsh grip around my bicep as he pulled me up with him, the water around us sloshing violently.
He stood towering over me with his skin glistening with water, but
