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bijouxcarys · 1 month ago

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𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

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Character Profiles/Face Claims

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A/N: We have a new banner! What do we think? I prefer it to the last one for sure. Anyways, this chapter was fun to write. Remember to let me know your thoughts, any feedback is greatly appreciated. And thank you all for the support on this story so far. Enjoy!

CW/TW: Suggestive themes, mild gun play, angst

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

April 2011

Most girls, when turning sixteen, expect glittering parties or sentimental gifts. There’s the Americanised commercialism of the sweet sixteen. Not yet an adult, but not too young that they’re seen as entirely incompetent. A child with little to no responsibilities beyond schooling and perhaps a part-time job or two.

For the Volkovs, turning sixteen was a rite of passage—one that cemented a place in the family business.

As Nate stood in front of her mirror, she smoothed down her silky black dress, carefully chosen to reflect the maturity she was assuming. There was a time when she detested her body as a young teen, not appreciating how her chest increased in size at a faster rate, and a lot earlier, than a majority of her friends. Her friends still had a ways to go, in terms of their growth. Stick thin, for the most part, and bore little curves until years later. Nate, however, seemed heavier than the other girls of her age group, and was often mistaken for someone at least five years her senior.

But now she was sixteen… and this dress… God, she loved how it made her feel. How it made her look. Finally, she was able to wear something she knew would always look good on her.

Barely having another moment to assess the rest of her reflection, Katya came bounding into the room through the swung open door. Full of light, innocence, and unbridled joy.

“Happy birthday!” Katya squealed, her small arms wrapping around Nate’s waist.

Nate grinned, bending slightly to hug her sister back. “Thank you, Kitty Kat. You ready for all the excitement?”

Katya beamed up at her, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! It’s your birthday! That means cake, right?”

It was sweet, how Katya’s definition of excitement was much simpler than what the day truly signified. Nate smoothed a hand over her little sister’s hair and said, “Yeah, cake and everything else.”

The two sisters made their way downstairs, where the living room had been transformed for the occasion. The house was alive with guests, most of them close family friends or trusted associates of Dimitri. Among them were the Sokolovs, whose presence was hard to ignore. Boris and his family had arrived early, as expected. The Sokolovs and the Volkovs were bound by more than just friendship—there was a deep alliance, one Nate had only begun to grasp.

Boris was lounging near the fireplace, already nursing a drink. At twenty-three, he carried himself confidently—arrogantly. His eyes swept over Nate as she entered the room, a smile forming on his lips.

“Natalka,” Boris called out, standing from his chair with a grin. “Happy birthday.”

“Spasibo, Borislav,” she replied, her voice laced with polite indifference. She didn’t particularly like Boris, but she learned early on to tolerate him. He was family, pretty much, and had at least some redeeming qualities. He was just… annoying.

As Nate accepted greetings and congratulations from various guests, she noticed her father standing at the centre of the room, commanding everyone with a clap of his hands to fall silent.

“Today is a very important day,” Dimitri began. “My daughter, my eldest, turns sixteen. And in our family, sixteen is a time of transition.”

The room fell even quieter. Nate stood tall, anticipation building in her chest. She knew what was coming—she had been waiting for it, eager to prove herself, to step into the role she had been raised for.

Dimitri turned toward her, something wrapped in dark velvet cradled in his hands. The crowd shifted, watching with bated breath as he approached his daughter. Unwrapping the velvet with deliberate slowness, he revealed a brand new, polished 9mm SIG Sauer handgun. It gleamed in the soft light, sleek and deadly.

Nate’s eyes widened, but her excitement couldn’t have been louder. She had been around guns before, but this—this was hers. Her own weapon. It symbolised more than just protection or violence. It was a mark of responsibility, a sign that she was no longer just the Volkov princess. She was being brought into the fold.

“S dnem rozhdeniya,” Dimitri said, smiling proudly. “It’s time for you to learn what it means to truly be a Volkov.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

4:30pm. She was supposed to be at Roman’s by 5, like they had agreed over text that morning. A boulder threatening to drop at any moment, the arrangement hung over her head. But time was slipping through her fingers like sand. And still… no call from her contact.

Nate wasn’t exactly in a state to go anywhere, especially not to Roman’s place without information. The past few days had been an absolute whirlwind—Roman’s thinning patience with the entire situation, the engagement party, and the constant sense of walking a tightrope with no net to catch her. She could barely focus through the haze of exhaustion. Sleep had been an elusive luxury these last few days; she’d barely strung together four hours in the past 72.

Lana had been kind enough to lend her a car—another favour she’d promised to repay by sending her and Rusev on a trip to Bali or something… God, she owed them big time. But even with their generosity, Nate felt a suffocating loneliness creeping in. She glanced at her burner phone, its blank screen taunting her.

Why hasn’t she called yet?

Resting her head in her hands, Nate rubbed her temples, trying to stave off a headache. She had to get it together. Roman didn’t tolerate excuses, and he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate her showing up empty-handed. But she couldn’t walk into his house without a shred of information. That was suicide. As formidable as she could be, she knew she wasn’t in the correct frame of mind to withstand his brooding nature.

Her fingers itched to dial her contact herself, but that wasn’t how these things worked. She’d made the call hours ago, left the message—now it was a waiting game. A game she was losing, and fast. Her heart rate picked up. The anxiety crawled under her skin, making her restless, frustrated.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, pushing herself away from Lana and Rusev’s garage wall and pacing the space.

The world felt off-kilter after the engagement party. Spending the evening with Boris, his hands constantly on her, her father’s speech—still sickening her with the chilling finality of his words being the future of the Volkov empire. And Katya… God, Katya.

Nate’s fists clenched. She hated it. All of it. But this—working with Roman… It could be good for her. Could be. Only if she delivered.

She looked at the clock again. 4:42pm.

“Fuck.”

The idea of texting Roman, letting him know she wasn’t going to make it on time, should have occurred to her. Any sane person would have done it by now. But something held her back. Maybe it was fear. Or maybe it was pride. She’d become a master at dodging unnecessary confrontations long ago, and the thought of admitting failure—even something as simple as being late—tore at her. If she could just hold out a little longer…

The silence in the room was unbearable, so she grabbed the burner phone again, staring at it like she could will it to ring. Roman was expecting her in 18 minutes. And she had nothing.

Time stretched, her frustration building until her hands began to shake.

For a moment, she thought about just getting into the car and heading to Roman’s place anyway. Maybe something would have come through on the drive over. Maybe she could stall, give herself more time. But she wasn’t sure she had the energy for that level of bullshit.

As she debated her next move, the burner phone rang. Nate nearly dropped it in her scramble to answer.

“Nate,” the voice on the other end sharply greeted.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman was in one of his moods—the kind of foul, brooding temper that had everyone around him walking on eggshells. Large frame tensed, strong arms crossed over his chest, he sat back on the couch. His family sat scattered around the living room, waiting for something, anything to bring some clarity. But what they had was silence, the uneasy kind.

“We’ve been at this since morning,” Roman growled, tossing the tablet he’d been using to search for any sign of a connection to the Irish onto the coffee table. “Nothing. Not a single fuckin’ thing that’s useful.”

Solo sat silently in the corner, arms folded, watching his cousin with a steady, unremarkable expression. Jey leaned forward, fingers tapping on the edge of his knee in barely concealed agitation, while Jimmy kept his gaze down, not daring to stoke the fire. Even Sami remained quiet.

“I told you, man,” Jey finally muttered, his tone light, cautious but laced with frustration of his own. “We shouldn’t be trusting her.”

Roman’s glare shifted immediately to Jey. “Who?” he challenged. “Nate?”

“Yeah, Nate,” the Uso shot back, unable to stop himself. “She’s a Volkov, man. You gonna just trust her like that? We’ve been digging all day an–”

“She’s our only fucking lead right now, Jey. What, you wanna throw that away because you don’t like her last name?”

Jey clenched his jaw but didn’t back down. “It’s more than her last name, Uce. She ain’t one of us. She got her own motives, and if we ain’t careful, we the ones that are gonna end up screwed.”

Jimmy gave a slight nod in agreement, glancing towards his twin for support. “Jey’s right, man. She’s late, she hasn’t given us much, and now she’s ghostin’ us when you agreed to meet today.”

“She’s a liability,” Solo added. “We don’t know where her loyalties lie.”

Roman was about to snap back when Paul decided to interject. “Gentlemen, perhaps we’re letting emotions cloud our judgement here. We’re frustrated, yes. But that frustration doesn’t mean we can abandon reason.”

Silence settled over the room once more as everyone assessed the Wise Man’s words. And, unfortunately for him, it was Sami who chose to break it.

“R-Roman… Maybe we should just take a break. Look over all the files with fresh eyes? I’m sure—”

“You’re sure what?” Roman cut him off, tilting his head at the redhead who just sat there, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked you a question.”

Sami swallowed, hands fumbling together in his lap. “I-I’m sure we could find something… A pattern or something that we didn’t see before…”

Roman stared at him, nodding his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he stood up from his place on the couch. “A pattern…” he mumbled, strolling over to the chair Sami was perched on. “Always somethin’, huh?”

Sami’s eyes darted back and forth between Roman and Jimmy. “Wh–”

“Always got a little thought or opinion.”

“I was just s—”

“Are you tryin’ to be me?” Roman asked with a chilling softness as he peered down his nose at Sami.

Sami’s face dropped, and he stuttered. “W-what?”

“You wanna be the Tribal Chief? You wanna make the decisions?”

The newest member of The Bloodline opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Roman’s gaze was burning through him.

“You want my seat?” he barked, his voice growing louder with each word. “You think you can run this? You think you can handle it?” He leaned in, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Tell me, Sami. Are you tryna be me?”

“No, no, I—” Sami stammered, but Roman wasn’t interested in listening.

“Non mentirmi!” Roman spat, slamming his hand against the back of Sami’s chair, face twitching with unbridled rage. “You think I don’t see you? Think I don’t notice? I see everything. And I see you. Sittin’ there, always tryin’ to worm your way in. Always wanting to have a little bit more control. But you’re not me. You’ll never be me, and you better remember that.”

Sami swallowed hard, face paling as Roman’s fury hit full force.

Paul shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. He knew better than to intervene when Roman was like this. The twins exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t move. Solo remained stoic, watching on, but even he knew this wasn’t the time to speak.

Before anyone could say anything more, Roman’s phone buzzed on the table. His jaw clenched as he glanced at it.

Nate.

Finally.

“She’s outside,” Roman grunted, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “Jimmy, Jey,” he called, eyes still locked on the terrified redhead as he straightened up. “Go get her.”

Both brothers sighed inwardly. Of course, they had to be the ones to go get her. As if things weren’t tense enough, now they had to deal with her. “On it,” Jey muttered as he and Jimmy walked out of the room.

“This some bullshit,” Jey muttered as the two made their way outside. Jimmy huffed, shooting a sideways glance at his twin.

“You’re tellin’ me. Uce got himself all worked up over some chick that’ll probably lowball us anyways.”

“Nah, he ain’t mad at that.”

“Did you not hear him back there?” Jimmy jabbed a thumb behind him.

“A’ight he’s mad as shit about that, but,” Jey lifted a finger. “Ain’t no way that’s the only thing he’s mad at right now, man, I’m tellin’ you…” He shook his head, reaching the front doors. “Nobody gets that angry about not findin’ information on someone they never even met.”

Outside, Nate leaned against the borrowed car, arms folded and eyes squinted as she looked down the street. The sun had lowered, and the whole area was aglow in gold. It was one of those rare moments when she could just stop to look at her environment without worrying if somebody was about to pop out of nowhere and shoot her.

She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of facing whatever mood Roman was going to be in. She knew she was late, but he’d just have to deal with it. He was the one who wanted her to come, he was the one who needed answers. Nate had the answers. He didn’t. And something told her that he wasn’t one to accept that comfortably.

Yawning, she rubbed her eyes, willing herself to stay as alert as she could, before she saw the familiar figures of the Usos approaching her from the gate. She barely lifted her head, barely adjusted her posture, rolling her neck like she was trying to get rid of a kink in her muscles.

Even though she’d only met them all once, been around their territory once, Nate already knew that her limited relationship with The Bloodline was contentious. But if she was asked to choose which Uso she preferred, the answer would come as natural as breathing.

“‘Sup, Volkov,” Jimmy greeted with a friendly nod of the head. Friendly may not be the best word to use, but at least he wasn’t grimacing and shooting daggers through her skull like his twin brother was.

“You’re late,” Jey simply mumbled, wasting no time in turning back toward the house in a silent prompt for her to follow him.

“I’m aware,” Nate answered, chewing the inside of her cheek. As she followed them inside, she watched her feet, unwilling to pay attention to the surroundings. Sure, it was getting easier to go against her father without his knowing, but on occasion, she’d be logical—realistic. One slip up, one teeny tiny preference for being at Roman Reigns’ home over her own, and she’d be dead within a week.

“Tribal Chief ain’t happy.”

Nate lifted her head and looked at Jey, who had his lips pursed and brows angled downward, as if putting on a strong face in the presence of his family, and more notably, Roman himself. She got it. If that was what was happening, anyway. She knew the pressures of having to act a certain way in front of a person that pretty much owned you. Still didn’t give him the right to be a dick to her about it, though.

Rolling her eyes, Nate shook her head. “Is he ever happy?”

Jey’s brows shot up, and he sent a sideways glance to Jimmy. Silently asking his twin if this woman who’s infiltrated his family’s space really just bit back a retort in rejection of the Tribal Chief’s disposition.

“I’m just sayin’,”Jey smirked slightly. “Maybe don’t poke the bear tonight.”

“Noted,” she muttered under her breath, mood souring further.

The three of them walked in silence, the estate’s grandeur doing little to ease the tension. As they entered the living room, Nate felt her pulse quicken. Everybody was there, every single one of them. Staring at her like she was some stray animal that had wandered into their den.

Roman didn’t waste any time, though. “You’re late,” he said coldly, narrowing his eyes at her.

Nate dropped her head and rolled her neck, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with him again. “Traffic was a bitch,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Traffic, huh?” Roman took a step forward, peering at her like he was trying to see into her soul. “What list of excuses you pull that one from?”

“I told you I’d be here, and I’m here. What more do you want from me?”

“You don’t get to be late, Volkov,” he clenched his jaw. “Not when you got somethin’ we need.”

“Do I?” Nate challenged, trying to ignore the emphasis he put on her last name, using it like a weapon. “Because last I checked, we’re supposed to be working together, not playing house, suka. You’re not my father.”

The room went dead silent. For a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed him a little too far, at least too far for his current mood. But instead of exploding, he took a step back, his eyes clearing her from head to toe, assessing.

She shouldn’t have enjoyed that.

“You know what your problem is?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You think you’re untouchable. Walkin’ up in here like you got all the answers. Like you in control, but you’re not–”

“And neither are you,” she shot back before he could finish. “Not right now, anyway.”

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, Nate’s words triggering a timelapse as Roman fought to keep himself as calm as possible.

Stuck up little bitch…

It was at that moment that Nate finally surveyed the rest of the room, eyeing each occupant and noting a hint of shock on each face. But in that, her eyes landed on Naomi. It took her a moment to register the familiarity, to place the face from somewhere other than here. And then, like a fog lifting, it clicked.

“You…” Nate said slowly, her body angling in Naomi’s direction. “You were at my engagement party.”

Naomi gave her a faint smile, almost guilty in nature, before she looked over at Jimmy. Yeah, she probably should have told him what she’d done for Roman… But in her defence, her husband would have done absolutely everything necessary to stop her from entering Volkov territory. She had to keep it to herself.

Nate turned to Roman, disbelief flashing across her features, the golden hue of her eyes shooting lasers into his much darker, yet much more alluring, eyes. “Oh my God,” she huffed out an irritated laugh, running a hand through her hair. “You sent her?”

“You expected me to just trust you?” Roman responded, almost over the situation, like it was the equivalent to gum on the bottom of his perfectly kept Jordans. “You—a Volkov?”

“No, but after the conversations we’ve had, I expected at least a fraction of respect for the fact that I defended you and your family to my father, my flesh and blood. Instead, you fucking send one of your minions to watch me?! Te egoistic, vysokomernaya pizda…”

“And you’re fuckin’ lucky that’s all I did,” he growled, almost completely stepping up to her, her entire form encased his his figure’s hulking shadow. “I dedicate my life to taking down people like you and your daddy. I’ll be damned if I trust one of you without makin’ sure I ain’t being screwed at both ends.”

Her nostrils flared as she looked deep into his eyes, sighing slowly and hollowing her cheeks in an earnest attempt to make sense of his logic. Had she been more… alert, awake, she probably would have seen sense, understood where he was coming from. But two people on the verge of some kind of mental break, going at each other and subconsciously pissing each other off like a sport was never going to conclude amicably.

“You don’t know anything about me, Roman.”

“I know enough,” he scoffed, dropping his voice to a mere mutter. “You’re desperate. Clingin’ to this idea that if you keep shit together, if you succeed in whatever it is you and that pretty head of yours is concocting… that maybe, just maybe you could get out of this life. That you can come out clean, stayin’ in the middle. Juggling both sides. But newsflash, Princess,” he leaned down, his lips right by her ear. “You deep in the mud. Same as the rest of us.”

Her eyes glanced to the side, watching his face as he stood back up. She swallowed thickly. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly. “But at least I’m trying. I sometimes wonder if you could say the same.”

For a second, something shifted in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She’d flicked a switch in his head, triggered him somehow. But she couldn’t understand why… She knew he was trying, of course she did, she just really wanted to get under this fucker’s skin right now. So for him to react like that… God, he is in a weird mood, isn’t he?

Roman glanced around the room, as if daring anyone to speak up. “You see this?” he said, pointing at Nate. “This is why I don’t trust anyone.”

Jey couldn’t help himself. “You shouldn’t be trustin’ her at all, Uce.”

“Maybe I don’t want your opinion, Jey!” Roman snapped, whirling around to face him. “Why you always gotta butt in, man?”

His cousin shook his head, backing up. “I’m just sayin–”

“Naw, you ain’t just sayin’ nothin’. I don’t need your ass to ‘just say.’ I need you to fall in line, or you can get the hell out!” His voice was a vicious bark, and it seemed like he had truly stumbled off the edge.

The tension skyrocketed, and Nate could feel the air charged with a strong energy between each and every one of them. Her eyes darted between Roman and Jey, who looked torn between speaking his mind and keeping his head down. Oh, she knew that place well.

“You’re really going to let him talk to you like that?” she found herself saying to Jey, unable to stop herself. “You’re supposed to be family, right?”

“Shut up,” Roman pointed at her again. “You don’t get to talk about family. You don’t get to talk about loyalty. Not when you got one foot in, one foot out.”

“Okay, well, both my feet are currently standing in your house because you let me get information from my contact about the Irish, so if you’re just gonna keep banging on about loyalty this, family that, my Tribal Chief feelings are hurt because you’re late, then I have no problem with turning my arse round and going back home. Because, quite frankly, I’m fucking tired, I’m on the verge of hallucination, and I really cannot be fucked with some cocky, arrogant bastard’s precious attitude today. Your pick, Mr Head of the Table.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Nate’s sharp words, stillness settling in over the room as she punctuated them with a fold of her arms. His breath tightened, anger radiating from him in waves, but yet… lash out he did not. Battling with the temptation to throw her out or hear her out.

“Alright then,” he growled, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “You got somethin’ to say? Say it.”

Nate held his gaze, clenching her jaw; she was as pissed as he was, if not more. “Fine,” she said, taking a deep breath, her exhaustion once again creeping back up on her. “I spoke to my contact. We’re meeting tomorrow. Whether or not the information they have is actually worth anything… I don’t know.” She looked around the room, her voice wavering. “But it’s the closest we’ve gotten to anything solid on the Irish. Trust me.”

Silence. The others exchanged looks, some uncertain, some frustration. Jey scoffed, shaking his head.

“That’s it? You got nothin’. You got a meeting? That’s all?” he scorned in disbelief. He pushed off from where he was leaning, stepping towards her. “You’ve been talkin’ big this whole time, and all you got is maybe a meeting? That’s what we’re supposed to rely on?”

Nate’s patience was wearing thin, her already ragged nerves fraying under Jey’s attack. “It’s more than you’ve got, isn’t it?” she bit back.

“Yeah, well, at least we ain’t the ones screwin’ around with our own families, makin’ deals with anyone who’ll listen.” He took a small step closer, almost getting in her face. “Y’all are all the same, man… All a bunch of lyin’ asses preyin’ on desperate people. You, your daddy, your sister…”

For a split second, Nate’s breath completely stopped. The air around them seemed to freeze. Her eyes flashed with fury, the comment striking her like a physical blow to the head. Her fists clenched at her sides, and without thinking, she fired back.

“You know something, Jey,” she sneered. “It really isn’t hard to sense the insecurity from across the room. Must be difficult, no? Always being the second choice. Never good enough… Always in the shadow of your brother.” She watched Jey’s eyes intently, the same fire igniting behind them. With a small smirk, she dropped her voice to a menacing whisper. “Why would anyone need you when they can get two for the price of one?”

Jey’s face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, and it was only Jimmy’s quick reflexes that stopped him from getting completely in Nate’s face. “Say that shit again, I dare you.”

“Enough!” Jimmy hissed, struggling to hold his brother back. “Both of you, cut it out.”

Naomi and Sami exchanged nervous glances, neither wanting to get involved but knowing this wasn’t going anywhere near the realm of pleasant. Solo focused on Roman and his reactions, noting his own disinterest in intervening. In fact… is… is Roman smirking? Is that a smile? Why he lookin’ at her like that?

Nate stood her ground, glaring at Jey as if daring him to try something. “What, you can’t handle the truth?”

Jey fought against Jimmy’s hold, his temper flaring. “You don’t know shit about me, Volkov!”

“And you don’t know shit about me!” she shouted back. “But that doesn’t stop you from running your mouth, does it?”

“I swear to G–”

“Jey, enough!” Tamina snapped, grabbing the back of his shirt to help with holding him back. “Tuputupu ae le tagata.”

Jey wasn’t listening. Didn’t want to. He just continued, trying to convince his family to back him up, to listen to him, to throw this infiltrator out of their house—well, Roman’s house, but that’s not the point!

But, finally, Roman stepped in. He hadn’t said a word during the exchange, watching as Nate and Jey tore into each other. And yes, maybe he enjoyed watching Nate in this mood a little more than he should have, but it wasn’t until Nate made her cutting remark about Jey being a twin that he considered intervening.

“Enough of this shit!” Roman’s voice thundered through the room, silencing everyone instantly. His expression was livid, his entire body rigid with barely contained fury. He stalked forward, grabbing Nate’s arm with a rough jerk. “You. With me. Now.”

Nate glared back at him, yanking her arm out of his grip, but she followed him nonetheless. Everyone watched as Roman stormed out of the room with Nate in tow, the door slamming eliciting a collective exhale.

Tamina shook her head, smacking Jey in the back of the head. “You had to go there, didn’t you?”

Jey shrugged, still riled up. “She had that shit coming.”

“Her sister, though?” Sami mumbled, clearly unsettled. “That’s low, even for you, man.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t remember askin’ you…” Jey mumbled. He couldn’t care less about what the others thought. To him, Nate was the problem. Hell, he’d tolerate a lifetime with Sami Zayn over one hour with Nate Volkov.

“I don’t get it,” Naomi shook her head, crossing her arms. “She’s trying, y’all. Roman sees something in her, otherwise, why would he even bother? I watched her at that party, and let me tell yo—”

“You were at some bougie-ass engagement party for a bunch of criminals. Don’t act like she a sain’t ‘cause she was playin’ nice,” Jey interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

Naomi shot him a look. “I’m not sayin’ she’s perfect, but damn, Jey, you don’t even give her a chance.”

“She’s dangerous,” Solo added quietly. “The wrong connections. We could all be dead by the new year…”

Tamina sighed, rubbing her temples. “Roman’s not an idiot. If she was a real threat, he wouldn’t let her get close.”

Jimmy, finally letting go of his brother, looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. But Jey’s right about one thing… she don’t belong here.”

The room fell silent again, the uncertainty of Nate’s loyalties settling on everyone’s conscience. But one thing was clear—Nate had stirred something up in this family, and whether it was for better or worse, nobody could say.

Roman didn’t tell Nate where they were going. She half-expected him to shove her into the next room and start yelling, but instead, he stormed through the house, his pace quick, purposeful. Barely having time to register what was happening, he grabbed her wrist again, pulling her down one of the downstairs hallways she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” she snapped, wrenching her wrist free again, though she still followed him.

He didn’t answer, his silence an answer in itself. His long strides forced her to keep up, the intensity of his anger palpable. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop, just moved forward like a force of nature, leaving Nate with little choice but to follow.

Leading her through a back entrance of the house, they descended a set of concrete stairs to what looked like a private basement. It wasn’t until they passed through a heavy door, the sound of it clicking shut behind them, that Nate realised where they were: Roman’s shooting range.

The sudden shift in atmosphere hit her immediately. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, and the walls were lined with a vast collection of firearms. The cold, clinical feel of the place contrasted sharply with the heated emotions nestled within both of them.

Instead of looking back at her, Roman walked straight to the far end of the room, leaning against one of the long tables that lined the wall, his hands gripping the edge. He stayed there for a moment, silent and seething, before turning to face her, his eyes dark with fury.

“What the hell is your problem today?” he growled. “You’ve been nothin’ but a bitch from the moment you got here.”

Nate bristled. “Oh, I’m the bitch today? Are you serious?” She strode forward, refusing to let this… man intimidate her. “You dragged me all the way down here to fucking insult me? Like I actually want to be here right now?”

Roman narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight. “You think I enjoy watching you tear into my family? You think I want to deal with this shit, with you pushin’ everyone’s fuckin’ buttons just ‘cus your feelings get a lil’ hurt?”

“Maybe if they stop pushing mine, I wouldn’t have to!” Nate shot back, her voice rising as the anger she’d been holding onto for days finally bubbled to the surface. “I don’t like fighting with your family, I didn’t ask for this shit, Roman.”

“You didn’t ask for this?” Roman scoffed, crossing his big arms over his even bigger chest. “You made the choice to be a part of this, of my family’s plans. Findin’ out who stole our fuckin—”

“I didn’t choose shit!” she spat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t choose any of this! Everything’s chosen for me, Roman—everything! My life, my choices, my fucking freedom. And I definitely didn’t sign up to be spied on at my own bloody engagement party!”

“So what? You mad at me for sendin’ Naomi? For tryin’ to make sure your ass ain’t pullin’ shit behind my back?”

“Of course you don’t trust me, you don’t trust anyone, I’m not a fucking idiot. God forbid someone actually try to do right by you.”

“Don’t turn this on me,” Roman shook his head. “You come here, you step on my turf, my land, my yard, and all you do is look for a fight.”

Something deep inside, somewhere in the dark subconscious of her mind, snapped.

She made the conscious decision to step even closer to him, standing toe to to with him, her chest heaving. “I haven’t slept in three days, Roman. Three fucking days. Do you know what it’s like to be so tired you can’t even think straight? To have everything you worked for, everything you thought you had set, slowly taken away from you right in front of you?”

Roman’s eyes flicked between hers, hollowing his cheeks and almost grimacing at her. But in all that, he lost the edge, if for a fleeting moment. He leaned down, his face inches from hers as he took a deep breath, catching the faint scent of her Carolina Herrera perfume as he did.

“You have…” he gritted his teeth, “No fucking idea.”

“Clearly,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Roman’s eyes once again journeyed over her face, the rage and frustration still evident, but there was something else in the way he held her gaze now—darker, primal. They were both standing on the edge of a dangerous intensity neither of them could pull back from.

Nate’s breath came fast and shallow, heart beating at a pace unlike any other as she locked onto his eyes. His face was so close now, she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint traces of his cologne mixed with gunpowder. She didn’t back down, didn’t pull away—if anything, she leaned into it, daring him with her stare, wanting to see what his next move would be.

His lips twisted into a cruel smirk, the same one she saw many times the day they questioned Bunny’s men. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he murmured darkly. He reached up, his large hand wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer. “I could end you right here, you know that?”

Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she met his words with a defiant tilt of her chin, her stomach twisting as his grip on her neck tightened slightly.

Roman’s smirk deepened, his eyes practically gleaming. “You’re standin’ in my shooting range,” he said slowly, the words almost seductive in their menace. “You know what that means, don’t you? You know I could put a bullet right between your eyes before you even had time to scream.”

Nate’s throat tightened—not out of fear, but something far more twisted. Stomach in knots, body reaction in ways she couldn’t explain. Didn’t want to explain. The more he spoke, the more he leaned into that predatorial edge, the more her body responded, as if every word ignited new sensations that had been buried under layers upon layers of exhaustion.

His grip shifted, his thumb pressing just under her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, to see the way his gaze darkened by the second. “You in my yard, Volkov,” he continued. “Could pull my gun right now, press it against your pretty little head, and no one would question it. No one would care. You think anyone would come lookin’ for you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she didn’t know why, but she found herself shaking her head.

“Exactly,” he grumbled, leaning in so close his breath landed hot on her cheek. “You don’t belong here, and you know that shit. All I have to do is pull the trigger… and it’d all be over for you.”

He loosened his grip just enough for her to move, but she didn’t. Instead, her lips parted, letting out a shaky breath. “Then why don’t you?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Roman’s eyebrows raised and then narrowed, eyes shifting to the side as if he were weighing his options, deciding just how far he wanted to take this. He released her neck only to reach behind him, pulling out his gun. He turned it over in his hands, almost casually, like he was considering it.

“You wanna know what it would feel like?” he asked smoothly. “You wanna know what it’d feel like to have this pressed right against your skull? To know that at any second, I could decide it’s over?”

It was like thunder rippled through Nate’s chest, her mouth drying up. But she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. The gun in his hands, the cold steel gleaming under the dim light of the range—it sent a special thrill through her body that she couldn’t control.

Roman reassumed the position, his body well and truly towering over hers. Suffocating her with his size, his presence.

Slowly, he raised the gun, his intense glare locked firmly on hers. He pressed the barrel against the side of her head, just above her temple, the chilled metal shocking her heated skin.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his voice like gravel. “That’s the power I have over you, Nate. You wouldn’t even have time to scream for help. One pull, and your ass is gone.”

Nate should have been terrified—everything in her should have been yelling to run, to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the pressure of the barrel pushed up against her, the weight of Roman’s power over her, causing a distinct throbbing sensation throughout her veins. If she could bottle up this feeling, and inject it daily… she would.

Opening her eyes again, she stared up at him, breathing raggedly. “Then do it,” she sighed defiantly.

Roman was stunned for a moment; surprise, amusement, maybe even admiration? But he didn’t move the gun, he just held it there, their bodies as close as they could get.

“You're crazier than I thought,” he hummed, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, before it travelled along her chin, and further up to swipe delicately over the plump flesh of her lower lip. “But maybe that’s what I like about you, Princess.”

Swallowing her pride, Nate glanced down at his own lips, along his perfect beard, and back up at his eyes, whispering up at him through an unsure sigh.

“Nu… ya znayu… chto mne v tebe nravitsya.”

Roman’s brow furrowed slightly, obviously not understanding the words but the way they rolled off her tongue, the tone behind them, triggered the familiar tightening below the waist. He didn’t need to know what she said. Speaking in her native language—it always did something to him. So foreign, yet when she spoke it, it seemed to dig under his skin and make a temporary home.

He inhaled sharply, his grip on the gun shifting as his hand twitched. With a grunt, he pulled back ever so slightly, but not without dragging the barrel of the gun slowly along her temple, down the side of her face. It brushed against her jaw, sending another wave of chills through her as his eyes followed its path, dark and deliberate. He traced it down to her neck, letting the muzzle hover just above her pulse point, teasing, before sliding it down further, stopping right at the centre of her chest.

Nate lost the ability to breathe steadily, her body going completely rigid as every nerve flared with electricity. Roman’s movements were agonisingly slow and calculated. It was a power play, one she recognised too well. His thumb pressed just under her collarbone, right next to where the gun rested.

Then, without warning, he took the gun away entirely, slipping it back into his waistband nonchalantly.

He stepped back, his demeanour shifting almost instantly, like a switch had flipped in his brain. The predatory glint in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced with something calmer, though no less commanding. He let out a breath, running a hand over his beard as if to shake off whatever had just passed between them. Lips twitching into a faint smirk, his eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he spoke again.

“You can sleep here tonight.”

Nate blinked, her body still thrumming with the adrenaline from their exchange. “What? I-I have a car, I’m not staying here.”

Roman’s almost-laugh was short but unmistakable, a low sound rumbling in his chest. He crossed his arms, shaking his head as if amused by her stubbornness. “You ain’t drivin’ nowhere, Volkov, not when you’re as tired as you are. Look at you.”

She scoffed, still too wound up to completely fall into the change in his mood. “I’m fine.”

“Nah, you ain’t.” Roman’s tone was softer now, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “You look like shit.”

Nate narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to protest, but before she could get the words out, Roman cut her off with a tilt of his head toward where they had come from upstairs. “You can take the couch. I’m not havin’ you crash your car halfway back and have that shit come back on me, just ‘cus you too tired to keep your damn eyes open.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence as she processed his words. She was exhausted, beyond exhausted, but the idea of staying in Roman Reigns’ house overnight wasn’t exactly the most appealing of thoughts. And yet… she didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Not with him.

Finally, she let out a resigned huff, her shoulders sagging just a little. “Fine. But only because I’m tired.”

Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he smirked again. “Good. Not that I was giving you much of a choice.” He turned to leave, pausing just long enough to glance back over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. “Oh, and make sure your ass stays downstairs.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving her standing in the limited lighting of the shooting range, her body still thrumming with the remnants of their encounter. Nate let out a slow breath, running her fingers through her hair.

The room felt empty now without him, but the fire he’d sparked in her chest still burned bright.

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