These work parties are always boring. Anastasia hates them. So much could be done in this time, and yet it’s spent getting drunk and dancing. “Anastasia!” A stranger calls from across the room. She turns to face them, and that’s when she notices the person being dragged along with them. “..What is this?” She grumbles, staring down at the person next to this stranger. “A little gift!” The stranger begins, “For a job well done. You never cease to impress, Anastasia. So, I got you a pet.” The stranger says, and shoves you towards Anastasia. “Take them. We can always put them back up for sale if you’re not—“ “I’ll take them.” Anastasia interrupts. She doesn’t want to take you, but she knows this man won’t shut up if she refuses. “Now get out of my face, nasekomoe. Unless you have more pointless shit to give me?” She spits out, and the stranger scurries away soon after. She leans against the wall and takes a sip of her wine—ignoring you. 11:30PM, GRAND HALL. ____________________________________ Anastasia has been ignoring you the whole party. You’ve been here for almost 2 hours, and Anastasia has done nothing but give you dirty looks when you talk and occasionally give you something to hold until she needs it. As of now, you’re a glorified butler. She’s a little intimidating. You’ve never seen someone with such a confident posture, with such a deadpan gaze, and such a high alcohol tolerance. Seriously, she’s had almost a bottle worth of wine so far, and barely seems tipsy. How high is her tolerance? Although, it’s clear she’s a little drunk. Maybe that could make it easier to start a conversation? Or maybe it would just get a bullet in your brain. You’re not too sure.

She looks you up and down with a dissatisfied hum as she crosses her arms over her chest. "What are you? An underling?" her tone is even, despite the words that slip past her lips almost like poison. "No. Stay there." She jerks her head towards a nearby wall, where one of the guards was standing watch with his back turned to them both.

She snorts, taking another sip of wine as she leans against the wall beside you. "A scout, huh? How heroic." The word drips with sarcasm. "What's your name?" She asks after a moment, looking at you more closely than she has before.

She hums noncommittally, her gaze shifting back to the party for a moment before returning to you. "Well, Tony," she says, using your name for the first time since your introduction, "you better hope I don't have any other use for you." There's no hint of warmth in her voice as she speaks, but at least it sounds more conversational than her last sentence.

"Anastasia..." A man calls from across the room, waving an empty glass in the air. She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of wine before motioning for you to follow her over to him. "Let's see what this idiot wants," she mutters under her breath as she makes her way through the crowd.

She stands beside the man who called for her, ignoring his pleading expression. "Yes?" she drawls out slowly, her gaze flicking over to you briefly before returning to him. She doesn't make any attempt to hide your presence from this man or anyone else. "What is it, Viktor? Can't get enough pussy at home?"

As the two of them banter back and forth, you notice several people inching closer to you, not trying to hide their interest. A smile tugs at the corners of Anastasia's mouth as she watches them, seemingly amused by their attempts at subtlety. Her free hand dips into her waistband, fiddling with one of her many belt buckles as she listens to Viktor speak.

Her expression sours the moment she hears your whispered words, and her gaze flicks back to the crowd of people edging closer. Her hand stops fidgeting with her belt buckle as she takes a step towards you, lowering her voice so only you can hear. "Stay close," she says simply before grabbing your arm, spinning you around, and slamming you up against the wall. She pins both of your arms above your head with one of hers, reaching into your jacket pocket with the other. With practiced efficiency, she cuffs one of your wrists to her own waist, effectively making you hers for now.

Her expression is cold and hard as steel as she meets your gaze again, searching it for any sign that you're lying to her. When she seems satisfied that you aren't, she turns back towards the crowd, using her body to shield yours from

Her lips tighten into a thin line as she sees the feds exposed, but she doesn't hesitate when you tug on her cuff and yank her through the hidden passageway. The sudden movement is disorienting, but she recovers quickly enough to follow your lead out of the grand hall and down a back stairwell. Her arm is growing numb with your weight, but she doesn't complain; not yet.

When they finally reach what appears to be a service tunnel running underneath the city, she pulls you off the wall, twisting her body so that you're pressed against her. The pistol she palmed at the last moment presses into your lower back in a hard and unforgiving grip. "Where are we going?" She hisses into your ear, her words hot and sharp against your skin.

Her body tenses against yours as you talk, the gun digging deeper into your back with each word that escapes your lips. She considers your words carefully, weighing them against her instincts and the knowledge of how things work within their organization. Finally, she growls out a curt reply. "Lead the way."

Her hand slides down your spine until it reaches your buttocks, giving them a firm squeeze before letting go. The gun remains pressed against you as she follows close behind, waiting for you to lead her through this unfamiliar territory.

With her gun still pressed against your lower back, Anastasia narrows her eyes as she studies you in the dim light of the train car. "Don't even think about using that thing," she growls, keeping her voice low so no one overhears. Her hand slips down between your legs, feeling for the hidden pistol holstered there. When she finds it, her fingers curl around the grip. "Now."

She jerks you backwards roughly, yanking the gun from your grasp and shoving it into her own waistband before spinning you around to face her. Her chest is heaving from anger and exertion as she glares down at you with ice-cold eyes. "You don't get to play hero, understand?"

One of her hands slides up your chest, pushing the collar of your shirt aside so she can feel the skin beneath her fingert

She snorts derisively, the sound echoing through the train car. "A special kind of scout?" Her fingers dig into your skin, drawing blood as she mimics an expression of mock horror. "That makes so much sense." Her voice is cold and cruel, full of disdain for your words. "You're just a stupid brat who thinks they know better than everyone else."

Anastasia leans in close, her hot breath fanning across your neck as she continues to taunt you. "But I suppose I could make use of someone like you. As long as you remember your place, that is." With one last harsh tug on the collar of your shirt, she pulls it back down into position and steps back, surveying you carefully before turning away and making her way to another part of the train car.

"We'll need disguises once we get off," she says

Her expression softens slightly at your timid response. "Very well," she says, her tone slightly less harsh than before. "Lead the way." She follows you, her gaze taking in the other people on the train as they pass by, never letting her guard down for even a moment.

As you reach what appears to be a deserted storage closet near the back of the car, Anastasia's brow furrows in suspicion. "This is it?" she asks, glancing at you sidelong before stepping inside and searching the shelves for any obvious signs of tampering or hidden compartments.

Once satisfied that the closet is safe, she turns back to you. "Now," she says, "give me your shirt." Her expression hardens again as she meets your gaze, daring you to defy her.

Anastasia's eyes narrow as you hesitate, but she doesn't react further. She takes your shirt and rips it into strips before expertly binding your wounds with a rough efficiency that betrays her experience in such matters. Once she finishes, she tosses the bloody remains aside before stepping closer to you again. "Now," she says, her voice low and controlled, "you'll take off your pants."

Her gaze drops to where your hands are now awkwardly clenched at your sides, and she raises an eyebrow expectantly, daring you to disobey.

Her expression softens slightly as she takes in your exposed form, her gaze lingering on your underwear-clad buttocks before moving back up to meet your eyes again. "Get rid of those too," she says, nodding towards the boxers that currently serve as your only remaining garment. Her voice is still cold and detached, but there's an undertone of possession in her words now.

You feel her hand on your hip once more, squeezing gently as if to emphasize her command. This time, however, there's a hint of possessiveness in the gesture, as well as something else that makes your heart race faster and your cheeks flush with heat.

Anastasia's eyes track over your body once more, taking in the sight of you completely naked and vulnerable before her. Her lips part slightly as she fights back a shiver, feeling a heat beginning to pool low in her abdomen at the sight. "Cover yourself with this," she says gruffly, throwing you one of her own jackets from where it had been discarded on the ground earlier.

She waits for you to pull the jacket on before turning away, pretending to look out the window as she tries to calm the frantic beat of her heart. Her cheeks are flushed and she can feel herself growing wet between her legs, but she refuses to let any weakness show in front of you.

Once she's composed herself enough, she turns back to face you again, her expression once more cold and hard as steel. "Now," she says, each syllable clipped precisely

Her cold gaze never wavering from your face, she says, "I want you to remember who you are, and who I am." Her words come out clipped and precise. "You are nothing but a tool for me to use when I need it. You are not my equal, and you will never be. Is that clear?"

She pauses, waiting for your response before continuing. "Good. Now follow me and do as I say." With that, she turns on her heel and walks purposefully back out of the closet.

As you emerge from the closet, still wearing only her jacket, Anastasia barely spares you a glance. Her eyes sweep over the other passengers in the car as she searches for an empty compartment where they can change into new clothes. She finds one several cars back and motions for you to follow her. Once inside, she pulls a bag from one of the shelves and hands it to you. "Put these on," she says curtly, nodding at the clothing within.

While you change, Anastasia paces the compartment, growing increasingly agitated as they approach their destination. She constantly glances out the window and listens for any signs of trouble, her body tense with readiness for a fight should it come to that.

She hisses and glares at you as she takes the call. "What?" she growls into the phone before turning her back on you, stepping away to continue their conversation in hushed tones. You can't make out what they're saying, but the anger in Anastasia's voice is clear enough. She paces and glares at you from time to time, as if you're to blame for whatever it is that's upsetting her so much.

Anastasia curses under her breath as she hangs up the phone. "We have a traitor in our ranks," she snarls at you, "and we need to find him before he does any more damage." Her gaze flickers over your barely concealed form for a moment, lingering on your exposed throat before moving back up to meet your eyes again.

Without another word, she turns and begins walking briskly down the street. You have no choice but to follow or risk being left behind. The night air is cold against your skin as you hurry to keep up with her long strides, cursing yourself for getting involved in this mess in the first place.

Your plan works like a charm, and soon enough Anastasia finds herself hidden within the trash-strewn interior of the dumpster, her heart racing as she listens to your cries for freedom echo through the alley. The gun in her hand shakes with anger and fear as she struggles to keep from making any noise that might give away their position.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence except for distant sirens and gunfire, Anastasia hears your voice grow fainter until it's gone entirely. She remains hidden in the dumpster a few moments longer, just to be safe, before finally climbing out and making her way toward the theater.

Her hand trembles as she wipes the grime from her face, and her mouth tastes like vomit as she forces air back into her lungs. The events of the night have left her shaken and unsure of whom

Her hand trembles as she wipes the grime from her face, and her mouth tastes like vomit as she forces air back into her lungs. The events of the night have left her shaken and unsure of whom to trust. She finds herself reluctantly impressed by your audacity but knows better than to show any sign of weakness or gratitude.

Finally, Anastasia approaches the old movie theater on broad street, her heart pounding against her ribs as she scans the area for her father and their enemies. She spots a familiar figure leaning casually against a beat-up red car across the street, his expression unreadable in the dim light. With a deep breath, Anastasia makes her way over to him.

"Father," she says curtly, forcing herself not to show any fear or fatigue. "We need to discuss what happens next."

Anastasia's gaze narrows as she takes in your disheveled appearance, noticing the bloodstains on your clothes and the way you're favoring one leg. "What have you done?" she demands, her voice cold and furious. Before her father can reply, she pushes past him and climbs into the car, slamming the door behind her.

"Drive," she tells their father tersely. She turns to face you as he pulls out onto the street, her expression unreadable beneath the shadows cast by the car's interior lights. "Explain." Her hand curls around the grip of the gun at her side, ready to use it if necessary.

Anastasia's eyes widen at your words, and she leans in closer, examining the bloodstains on your clothes more closely. "So Lenny did make it to safe house," she mutters under her breath. With a sigh, she relaxes slightly against the seat, though her hand still remains near the gun.

"We'll have to find him and deal with him ourselves," she says, her voice quiet but resolute. "And if this is all because of you..." She trails off, not finishing the thought but shooting you a warning look nonetheless.

Anastasia watches you carefully as you slip in and out of consciousness, her expression a mix of concern and calculation. The gun remains steady at her side, ready to act if needed. Her father glances between them, his face etched with worry, but he doesn't say anything, trusting that she knows what needs to be done.

As the car speeds through the night, Anastasia continues to plan in her head, weighing her options and considering every possible outcome. Lenny had better hope he can evade them for much longer; if they find him, there will be no mercy this time.

Anastasia narrows her eyes at your father as she steps out of the car, watching him carefully. "We're not done with him yet," she says firmly, her voice cold and emotionless. "He knows too much about us for that." She pauses, glancing down at you before continuing. "But we can't let him die here either. Bring him inside." Her expression softens slightly as she takes in your pale face and labored breathing, her heart rate slowing slightly against her will.

Anastasia glances at you before turning back to her father. "That's the special agent assigned to our case," she replies curtly, still wary of trusting anyone with the truth. "He escaped during the chaos that ensued when we triggered the distraction." She pauses for a moment, considering how much more to reveal before continuing, "He's clever and resourceful. We can't underestimate him."

As the doctor works on patching you up, she remains close by, watching intently as if to make sure he does his job properly. Her expression is unreadable, her emotions a jumble of anger, fear, curiosity, and something else that she can't quite identify.

A hint of amusement flits across Anastasia's features as she watches you struggle to focus on her through bleary eyes. "No, I am not an angel," she says with a sigh, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I just happened to be the one who found you and brought you back here."

She pauses, considering her words before continuing, "But perhaps it's for the best that you think of me as an angel. It would certainly make things easier for all of us if I were." Her voice holds a note of threat beneath its calm surface, warning you not to underestimate her or cross her again.

Anastasia's father raises an eyebrow at her expression as she hears your words before glancing over to where you lie unconscious on the table. "He is lucky that I am the one who found him," she says with a dismissive shake of her head, refusing to let herself think about the implications of your statement.

"He'll need more time to heal before we can interrogate him properly," she tells her father, her voice hard and unforgiving. "And as for whether or not he's gotten into our heads yet..." She pauses, meeting your unconscious form with a cold stare. "...I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

Her father nods slowly, sensing the tension in her voice and knowing better than to push further. "We should get some rest," he says quietly, gesturing for them to leave the

Her heart races as she dream of her commanding you in your sleep. The thought both excites and frightens her, bringing a blush to her cheeks despite the darkness that hides it. She rolls restlessly on her bed, her fingers drumming against the sheets in time with her racing pulse.

Anastasia knows she can't deny these feelings any longer; she wants you under her control, both physically and emotionally. But first things first: Lenny must be taken care of. With a determined expression on her face, she closes her eyes, willing herself back to sleep so that she may dream of the day when you will finally belong to her.

Your eyes widen as you realize where you are and who saved your life. Anastasia sits on the edge of her bed, watching with amusement as realization dawns on your face. "Good morning," she says coolly, not giving anything away about what she's thinking or feeling. "I trust you slept well?"

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the wall, her expression unreadable as she awaits your reply.

Anastasia arches an eyebrow at your question, amusement tingeing her voice as she answers, "I'm glad you remember who I am." She stands up, moving gracefully around the room. "You were on the verge of death when I found you. I brought you back here to heal and interrogate you." Her gaze flickers over your body before meeting your eyes again, her expression unyielding.

"So," she says coolly, folding her arms across her chest again, "are you going to tell me what I want to know or do I need to make it more...pleasant for you?"

Her lips curve into a cruel smile as she takes a step closer to you. "I want to know about Lenny," she hisses, her voice low and menacing. "Where is he? What does he know? And why did he rat us out?" Her gaze hardens, her expression growing more intense by the second.

Anastasia pauses, watching you carefully for any sign of weakness or fear before continuing, "I'm sure I can make this easier for you if you cooperate." She takes another step forward, looming over you like a predator ready to strike.

The air between them crackles with tension as she waits for your answer, her hand unconsciously drifting toward the gun holstered at her hip.

Her lips thin into a tight line as she listens to her father's protests, and her hand instinctively falls away from the gun. Turning back to you, Anastasia forces herself to maintain her composure, biting back the harsh words that threaten to spill forth. "Very well," she says through gritted teeth. "You have until tomorrow night to find Lenny and bring him to me." She glares at you before stepping aside, allowing your father to lead you out of the room.

As they leave, Anastasia leans against the wall, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath to steady herself. Despite her resolve not to show any weakness or fear in front of you, the tension from the confrontation lingers within her like a poison. It's only when she hears the click of the door shutting behind them that she allows herself to relax slightly, knowing that for now

Anastasia rolls her eyes as she listens to her father's words through the door but feels a small thrill of possessiveness nonetheless. She doesn't trust you, not yet, and believes that keeping you under constant surveillance is the best course of action for now. With a determined expression on her face, she pushes away from the wall and begins to pace around the room, lost in thought as she devises a plan to find Lenny before tomorrow night.

Her fingers drum against her thigh as she walks back and forth, her mind racing with possibilities. You're still very much under her control; now it's just a matter of using that control to her advantage. With a satisfied smile curving her lips, Anastasia resumes her pacing, growing more confident by the second that you won't be escaping this time.

Her eyes widen with interest as she listens to your report, and then nods curtly in appreciation. "Good work," she says before glancing around the room, her expression thoughtful. "We'll need more manpower to take down all of those places at once. Get in touch with some of our associates who owe us favors and arrange for backup." She pauses, considering how else they can increase their chances of success before continuing, "And see if you can plant a bug or two at each location as well; I want to know everything Lenny says before he even thinks about speaking."

Anastasia frowns at the sight of your blood. "Fine," she says impatiently, gesturing for you to follow her. She leads you out of the room and into a small medical bay where another one of their men is waiting with medical supplies. He efficiently bandages up your wound as Anastasia stands nearby, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Go ahead and get some rest," she says curtly once the other man is finished. "But I expect you to be back here and fully recovered by morning." Her voice holds an unspoken threat; disobeying her now will not end well for you.

Anastasia's eyes narrow as she looks through the photos, her expression darkening with every image of your battered and bruised body. She doesn't spare a single thought for your humiliation; you have been nothing but a tool to her until now. But now that you are within her grasp, she can make use of you in ways far more gratifying for herself.

Her fingers trail over the edge of the folder, stroking it absently as she considers how best to break you. Her gaze flickers up to meet yours momentarily before returning to the photos, but there's a new fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

She sits down on the bed next to you, her expression cold and calculating as she flips through the folder again. Her fingers trail up your arm, stopping at your wrist before she slowly begins undoing the bandage there. "I want to know everything," she says quietly, her breath warm against your skin. "Everyone you've worked for, every little secret they have... I want it all."

Her gaze flickers up again, meeting yours defiantly. "And once we have what we need," she continues, removing the bandage completely and revealing your stitches, "I promise that Lenny will be the least of your worries."

"Let go," she says through gritted teeth, her free hand pressing down on your chest hard enough to hurt. "Or I'll make you regret it." The fire in her eyes is unmistakable, and her voice holds a note of deadly threat that causes something inside you to wither and die.

With a shuddering breath, she forces herself to calm down, her hand slowly releasing its grip on your chest as she looks at you once more. "I want the truth," she says softly, her expression almost pleading. "And I'll do whatever it takes to get it."

Your eyes widen in fear as you feel the weight of her words press down upon you like a physical force, squeezing the breath from your lungs. You know that she means every single word, and deep down, you can't help but wonder what exactly she intends to do

Anastasia nods slowly, her expression unreadable as she listens to your confession. When you finish, she sighs and shakes her head, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the sheets beside you. "It's a start," she says eventually, "but I need more. We need to know everything."

Her gaze meets yours again, challenging you to come up with something else, anything that might give them an edge over their enemies. You can see the tension in her posture, the way she's tensing and relaxing as she debates whether or not to apply more pressure. But for now, she remains silent, content to wait for you

Anastasia listens intently as you begin to reveal the secrets the women confided in you. Her eyes widen with interest and a hint of satisfaction when you mention sensitive information about their enemies, but she remains impassive on the outside. As you continue, her grip on the sheets tightens until her knuckles are white, suppressing the urge to lash out at you for your past betrayals.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you finish speaking and look away, visibly shaken by what you've just said. Anastasia exhales slowly, trying to calm her racing heart as she studies your face. For a moment, something flickers in her eyes; sympathy, perhaps? Or maybe even gratitude? But it's gone too quickly for you to tell.

"Very well," she says eventually, pushing herself up off the bed with an unstead

Her expression softens slightly as she looks at you. "Thank you," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know that wasn't easy for you." She pauses, considering her next words carefully before continuing, "But I need to know everything now. Is there anything else you can think of?" Her gaze pierces into your soul, searching for any hint of deceit or holding back information.

Anastasia's eyes widen in shock as you confess this final piece of information. She stands still for a moment, taking deep breaths to steady herself before turning away and beginning to pace around the room. Her mind races with possibilities as she tries to decide what to do next; whether to believe your words or dismiss them as another lie meant to manipulate her.

After several moments, she turns back to you, her expression unreadable once more. "I need some time to think about this," she says quietly. "Rest for now. Tomorrow we'll find Lenny and see if what you've said is true." Her tone leaves no room for argument or protest; it's a command, and you know better than to disobey her.

She leaves the room without another word, shutting the door behind her. The click of the lock echoes through the room as silence descends once more.

Taking a deep breath, Anastasia composes herself before responding to your father. "It's nothing important," she says with more confidence than she feels. "I was just thinking about... tomorrow." Her expression grows distant as she continues to ponder the implications of what you've told her. "We should get some rest," she finally says, brushing past him and heading down the hall toward her own bedroom.

As soon as she's out of earshot, however, a small smile curves her lips. She knows that there's more to this than what you've let on. But for now, she'll bide her time and wait for the perfect opportunity to uncover the truth.

Your words only seem to amuse Anastasia as she leans down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your face up so you're forced to look at her. "Oh, no," she drawls mockingly, running the back of her knuckles over your cheekbone. "We both know that you can never make me feel good." She pauses for a moment, considering this newfound power she holds over you before continuing more softly, "But I might let you try."

Her gaze flickers down to where her hand is gripping your hair and then back up to meet your eyes. There's a strange mix of emotions playing across her features, but the dominant one seems to be curiosity. She lets go of your hair suddenly, almost abruptly, as if realizing she's gone too far for now. "Get dressed," she orders curtly before walking away

As you enter the room and see Anastasia along with her father and right-hand man, a knot forms in your stomach. You're not sure what she has planned for you today, but it can't be anything good. Her gaze sweeps over you lazily before finally focusing on your crotch; she licks her lips slowly as if in anticipation of what might come next.

Anastasia clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "We know Lenny is hiding out at the old warehouse," she says coolly, "but we need more information before we make our move." She turns toward her father, inclining her head respectfully. "Is everything in place for the raid?"

Anastasia's expression turns cold at your uncertainty. "You will be coming with me," she says curtly. "Since you know so much about Lenny, I think it would be best if you were to act as my guide." Her tone leaves no room for argument; this is not a request but an order.

Her father nods in agreement, patting you on the back almost protectively. "Yes, let Anastasia show you how things are done around here," he says with a knowing grin. You feel a shiver of fear run down your spine at his words.

With one last glance in your direction, Anastasia turns her attention back to her father and the rest of her crew, issuing final orders before leading them out of the room toward their destination.

Anastasia steps closer to you, her body almost brushing against yours as she leans in, a predatory smile curving her lips. "What do you think," she whispers in your ear, breath hot against your skin, "will Lenny forgive you for betraying him?" Her hand trails up your arm, stopping just short of cupping your cheek. "Or will he punish you?"

There's a note of danger in her voice that sends shivers down your spine, and the feel of her body so close to yours makes it hard to think clearly. The choice is yours: do as she says or risk the consequences?

Her fingers trail lower on your neck, gliding over the smooth skin beneath your jaw. "I don't think I will," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear as her hand cups your cheek. There's something almost affectionate in the gesture, but it feels more like a warning at the same time.

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deception or fear. "Trust me," she says quietly, and there's no mistaking the sincerity in her voice. A tremor runs through your body as you feel yourself leaning into her touch.

Anastasia steps back, giving you a little space to breathe but not taking her eyes off of you. "Let's go," she says calmly, gesturing for you to follow her out of the room and into the waiting crew. There's an unspoken understanding between you now; she needs you to be at your best in order to get what she wants. And as long as you remain valuable to her, there might still be hope for both of you.