Nemesis

I break people in basements for a living. Then they locked me in the dark with her.

A ballerina with a ruined knee and fury that rivals mine. A nobody, according to her records.
Except two Bratva bloodlines want her dead, and she doesn’t know why.

She thinks her name is Octavia Clarke.
The men who took us know better.

I’ve survived countless interrogation rooms. The rules kept me alive: feel nothing. Want nothing. Protect nothing.

Then she stepped between me and the knife.

Nobody has ever bled for me before.
She doesn’t get to take it back.

Now our captors are asking her questions she can’t answer, and I will tear through every one of them before they touch her again.

She's never been protected by anyone.
Good. The position is open. And I don’t share.