She's terrified of me. She should be. I'm no saint, but apparently even killers have limits. When the Bratva hired me as security for the night, I didn't know it was a flesh trade. I could have kept my cool, done my job, but then I saw her. Pure as a lily, dressed in skimpy lingerie, and being auctioned off to the foulest men in Brighton Beach. I'm not used to this white knight sh*t, but I did what I had to do. I outbid those pieces of trash and bought...