Bloodsucker
The first thing you registered was the smell of Chinese food from the last night. The second was the quiet.
You blinked awake, still lying across the hotel bed. The dim morning light seeped in through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Kraven sat in the chair near the window, feet propped up on the table, flipping a knife between his fingers. “Damn animal.” You mutter. His leather jacket was long gone, his perfect slicked hair undone, and the white shirt—stained with traces of last night’s work—was rolled up to his elbows.
“You drool in your sleep, Малышка,” Kraven muttered without looking up.
You snorted, stretching lazily. “And you snore like a dying bear.”
Kraven chuckled, tapping the flat of the blade against his knee. “What’s the plan, then? Another leisurely day? Maybe brunch?”
You sat up, rubbing your neck. “Vasiliy Romanov.”
That wiped the amusement off his face. Kraven leaned forward, his eyes dark with something feral. “He dies tonight.”
You grabbed the file from the nightstand and flipped it open. Romanov wasn’t just Bratva. He was filth.
He ran a trafficking ring disguised as an “escort service,” targeting underage girls, prostitutes, and desperate women looking for a way out. His drug operations catered to addicts who couldn’t afford to say no, trapping them in a cycle of dependence and debt.
If there was anyone who deserved a violent, brutal end, it was him.
Kraven’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hands. “Tell me we’re not making this one quick.”
You smirked. “Not a chance.”
Romanov was hosting an auction at one of his clubs—a classy affair on the surface, but beneath the expensive suits and overpriced champagne, the real business was being conducted. Drugs, weapons, people.
The perfect place to send a message.
Kraven groaned when you tossed a freshly pressed suit onto the bed.
“You love torturing me,” he muttered.
You grinned. “Just keeping you civilized. Can’t have you showing up looking like you crawled out of a hunting trip.”
Kraven grumbled under his breath, stripping off his shirt. You pretended not to notice the way the muscles in his back shifted, the claw marks from a past life still etched into his skin.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking.
You smirked. “I’m judging.”
Kraven shot you a look over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “Careful, dove.”
You just rolled your eyes. “Hurry up. We’ve got a snake to skin.”
____________________________________
The club was a masterpiece of gaudy luxury—crystal chandeliers, black velvet walls, overpriced liquor being poured like water.
Kraven adjusted his tie with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to execution.
“You actually look good,” you admitted, taking a sip of champagne.
Kraven smirked. “Say that again. Slower.”
You scoffed, scanning the room. There.
Vasiliy Romanov sat in a private booth, draped in arrogance. His silk suit screamed wealth, but nothing could hide the rot underneath. A girl sat beside him—young. Too young. He had his arm around her, whispering something in her ear as she stared at the floor, vacant-eyed.
Your fingers curled around your glass so tightly you nearly shattered it.
Kraven followed your gaze, his expression darkening. His posture shifted, something primal slipping through the suit and tie.
“I want to kill him now,” he growled under his breath.
“Patience,” you murmured. “Let’s make this fun.”
Kraven exhaled sharply through his nose, but he nodded.
Then you moved.
The first shot sent the club into chaos.
You took out one of Romanov’s bodyguards before he even realized what was happening. Kraven, meanwhile, had shed the last bit of civility, ripping through men like a beast unchained.
A guard lunged at him—Kraven caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting until bones snapped. The scream barely had time to escape before Kraven bit into the man’s throat, tearing through flesh like it was nothing.
You, meanwhile, danced through the carnage, your blade flashing in the dim light. Romanov tried to run—of course he did.
But you weren’t letting him.
You caught up to him in the VIP section, knocking the gun from his shaking hands.
“P-Please, I never really agreed with Lev anyway!” he stammered, blood speckling his expensive suit. “I can pay—name your price!”
Kraven appeared behind him, wiping blood from his mouth. “Your life is the price.”
“Did you just fucking bite one of them?” You asked Kraven seeing him wipe blood of his lips. He simply smiled
Romanov turned to run—Kraven grabbed him by the collar and threw him into a glass table.
He crashed through it, groaning in pain, but you weren’t done. You crouched beside him, running your blade along his throat just enough to draw a thin line of red.
“You deal in women,” you murmured. “Girls.”
Romanov whimpered.
“You feed them drugs, you sell them like cattle.”
Kraven kneeled beside you, his presence radiating something ancient, something meant to hunt. He grabbed Romanov’s face, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“Do you know what happens to animals like you?” Kraven murmured. “They get put down.”
Then he ripped Romanov’s throat out with his bare hands.
Blood splattered across your face, but you just smiled.
________________________________
Back at the hotel, the adrenaline still thrummed beneath your skin.
Kraven was quiet, cleaning the blood from his hands, his mind still in that primal space.
You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the night’s work.
Unbeknownst to you, Kraven caught a glimpse of your silhouette through the steam—just a faint outline, but enough.
His jaw tightened.
His mind—so sharp, so predatory—offered images it shouldn’t.
He exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair.
Professional, he reminded himself.
When you stepped out, wrapped in a towel, he was sitting on the bed, flipping through the last name on your list like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes having very unprofessional thoughts.
You raised a brow. “Something on your mind?”
He didn’t look up. “The last target.”
You let it slide. For now. Instead, you grabbed the plate of hotel food and flopped onto the bed beside him.
“One more to go, maybe more who knows” you murmured, picking up your fork cutting into the steak in front of you .
Kraven hummed. “And then what? You give me a chance?” In his mind he cursed himself for being so stupid for saying such a thing.
You laughed and shrugged. “Then we see what’s left standing. And I go back to London, New York isn’t for me.”
Kraven studied you for a long moment before smirking.
“Fine by me. But I mean my place is nice too. Maybe better than London.” He said with a smile.
You shake your head in disbelief and just smile.
And with that, the two of you ate in silence, the taste of blood and revenge from your engaging event tonight still lingering in the air.