“How about the part where she did it all to protect her son from a bullet?”
I flex my jaw and don’t reply.
The truth is, Maksim is right. Iknowhe’s fucking right. But every part of me rebels against acknowledging Mia’s innocence.
Because if she’s innocent, then I’m the one who wronged her.
It goes against everything I’ve ever believed. My whole creed is rooted in one simple thing: I am the leader, the alpha, the one who commands armies. For the men who serve under me, I am absolute. My judgment doesn’t just make the difference between life and death—itisthe difference.
And the last time I had a lapse, it cost me everything.
So I don’t make mistakes anymore. I can’t.
And Mia will just have to accept that.
“Go back to the office,” I order Maksim. I don’t need anyone questioning me right now.
“Suit yourself,” he grumbles. “But you can’t keep pushing her. Sooner or later, you’re going to push her all the way out the door.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Maksim’s face twists into a scowl at my sarcasm. “Fine, be like that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Warnings.I’ve had enough of them. First Desya, now Maksim—just who the fuck does everybody think they are?
I sit at the counter, steeple my fingers. Right now, Desya could be anywhere. I left Nikita with Mia today, but will she be enough? She hasn’t been the same since the kidnapping, and we both know it. She’s more scattered, less focused. Frailer. Hasn’t put back a single ounce of muscle. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her eat.
But that’s why she’s got backup. Four trained bodyguards, ready to lay waste to the world at my command or hers. And she may be weaker now, but she’s still the best I’ve got.
The only one who comes close is Maksim, but I can’t always spare him. Besides, he’s not as fast.
And Desya won’t think twice about killing him.
He likes Nikita, though—Desya does, I mean. For some reason, he enjoys toying with her. It makes me want to tear his head right off his neck, remembering how he dangled Kira’s death in front of her. In front ofus.
But a game of cat and mouse is better than an ambush, and if Nikita can get him to lower his guard, then so be it.
I lose myself in memories of yesterday. The mansion. The room where I lost everything. Mia, tied to a chair with a knife to her throat.
I can’t lose her. Iwon’tlose her. Whether she agrees or not, she is mine.
And I’m never going to let Desya Bogdanov take what’s mine ever again.
It’s nearly one in the afternoon when Mia finally pushes the door open. “Yulian?” she calls from behind two heaped boxes. “Are you here? I thought you’d be at w?—”
“What the hell took you so long?”
She recoils from the sharpness of my words. “Excuse me?”
“You said you’d be back at noon,” I say. “It’s not noon.”
She dumps the boxes on the ground and fixes me with a glare that could cut through glass. “There were roaches in the apartment,” she grits. “Packing up took longer than expected.”
“And you didn’t think towarnme?”
“I didn’t think you’d be sitting here in the dark, waiting to catch me in the act like—like?—”
“Like what?” I take one step forward, casting my shadow over Mia’s small frame. “Say it, Mia.”
