"Salt the earth," Natasha agreed, almost matter of factly. Almost. There was too much banked emotion behind it. Like a tidal wave was coming and all she could do was watch the water that would soon drag her under. She didn't have any high ground to stand on this time. Just the same old mantra that had carried her for years when things got rough: she had red in her ledger. She wanted to wipe it out.
Her head tipped when his fingertips touched the cut on her face, the tender edge of a blossoming bruise. "Yeah," she answered, her eyes closing for a moment. It didn't exactly sound like an agreement. Her hand ghosted slowly up his forearm and down again before she opened her eyes. Dreykov was cruel. A well-connected bully that had used his wealth and resources to exploit women for decades. Maybe a little bit of a sadist. Sometimes she could still hear the casual way he'd have girls disposed of if they cried, if they refused to comply. At the end of the day, he would have just been a man. But Natasha had made him dangerous when she killed his daughter in her desperate bid for freedom. It seemed monstrously unfair that she'd disappeared into the red heat of that explosion when he'd been able to claw his way out.
"Promise me that you won't try to get between me and Dreykov." Her eyes searched his face as she spoke, as if she could ferret out the tell if he lied to her. Everyone had their monsters. Dreykov was one of hers. But it was less that and more that she knew he wouldn't stop at anything to get to her. She couldn't let anyone else fall victim to a score she should have settled years ago.
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Her head tipped when his fingertips touched the cut on her face, the tender edge of a blossoming bruise. "Yeah," she answered, her eyes closing for a moment. It didn't exactly sound like an agreement. Her hand ghosted slowly up his forearm and down again before she opened her eyes. Dreykov was cruel. A well-connected bully that had used his wealth and resources to exploit women for decades. Maybe a little bit of a sadist. Sometimes she could still hear the casual way he'd have girls disposed of if they cried, if they refused to comply. At the end of the day, he would have just been a man. But Natasha had made him dangerous when she killed his daughter in her desperate bid for freedom. It seemed monstrously unfair that she'd disappeared into the red heat of that explosion when he'd been able to claw his way out.
"Promise me that you won't try to get between me and Dreykov." Her eyes searched his face as she spoke, as if she could ferret out the tell if he lied to her. Everyone had their monsters. Dreykov was one of hers. But it was less that and more that she knew he wouldn't stop at anything to get to her. She couldn't let anyone else fall victim to a score she should have settled years ago.