The Correction
684 Words
Staying in the boardroom alone with Damien made the whole place cold, and his gaze upon me was so full of danger. I couldn't bear his cold ice, so I decided to go out of the boardroom.
.
"And where do you think you're going?" he asked. His voice sounded like that of a sharpened blade.
"Do you think I would let you go out of here?" he continued. "Sit."
I walked to the chair he pointed at, but I was walking like someone whose bones were cracked.
"Every disobedience has a price, little bird, and you're going to pay it."
His presence made me feel cold, and I couldn't open my mouth to say anything.
Sera, you shouldn't have said anything, my instincts screamed at me. But even as fear clawed at my throat, another part of me—the part that had survived years of being second-best, invisible, expendable—refused to regret speaking up. I'd seen the lie in Petrov's eyes. I'd known those defective rounds could kill people. And despite everything, despite being here as payment for my father's sins, I couldn't have stayed silent.
But now I was paying the price for that choice.
"Tonight, 10 p.m., Crucian Bar. Viktor Kozlov and his brothers. They're more dangerous than me, and they don't tolerate mistakes." He circled my chair slowly, predator assessing prey. "You'll sit beside me during the negotiation. Arms deal worth fifteen million euros. The Kozlovs are unpredictable, distrustful, and they've killed business partners over perceived disrespect."
My stomach dropped. This wasn't just punishment—it was a death sentence dressed up as a test.
"You'll watch, you'll listen, and you'll keep that clever mouth of yours shut unless I specifically ask you to speak. One wrong word, one sign of fear, one moment where you make me look weak in front of them..." He leaned down, his breath cold against my ear. "And I'll let Viktor decide what to do with you. He has particular tastes when it comes to pretty things who don't know their place."
I forced myself to stay seated even though every instinct screamed to run. My hands gripped the chair arms until my knuckles turned white, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"There are consequences for disobedience, and I have many consequences," he said, straightening up and moving back to his desk.
My mind raced through impossible calculations. Could I survive this? The Kozlov brothers—I'd heard whispers about them even in my normal life. They were the monsters that monsters feared. And Damian was throwing me into a room with them, armed with nothing but my ability to read lies and my desperate need to prove I wasn't worthless.
"But why do I have to follow you?" I said, hating how small my voice sounded.
"I don't have an answer to that question," Damien said, and for the first time, something flickered in his expression that might have been respect. Or maybe just cruel amusement at my audacity to keep questioning him.
The door creaked open. Vincent walked in, his timing too perfect to be coincidence. He'd been waiting outside, listening.
"Boss, we have to go. The car is ready," Vincent said, pushing his cold gaze on me. "The girl needs to be prepared."
I quickly pulled my gaze away, refusing to show any weakness.
Vincent stepped closer. "You'll wear what I provide. Black dress, no jewelry except what I give you. Your hair down. You speak only if Mr. Blackwood directs a question to you. You don't flinch, you don't gasp, you don't react to anything you see or hear. The Kozlovs interpret any emotion as weakness, and weakness gets you killed."
Each instruction felt like another lock clicking into place on a cage I couldn't escape.
Damien stood up, walking to the door, and he said without facing me, "The meeting is in three hours. Viktor Kozlov doesn't forgive mistakes, little bird. Neither do I."
The door closed, leaving me alone with the certainty that tonight, I might not survive my own defiance.
- Writer
