She turns her head then, eyes finding mine. “And leave you?”
The words hit harder than a bullet. I grip the steering wheel tighter, fighting the smile that threatens to break through. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not,” she says, her tone softening, “but that’s what it sounded like.”
We fall quiet again. The cabin appears through the trees, a dark silhouette against the faint shimmer of evening. I park beside the porch, cut the engine, and for a moment we just sit there, the silence stretching, thick and full of everything we can’t say.
“I keep thinking,” she starts, her voice barely a whisper, “if I’d never heard those rumors, if you’d never walked into the room…”
“You’d be dead,” I finish for her.
Her mouth curves in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Probably.” She huffs out a breath. “Andrey wanted an heir but his need to hurt women outweighed it.” She shakes her head from side to side. “I guess I just don’t understand it.”
I reach across, covering her hand with mine. Her fingers are cold, but she doesn’t pull away. “You did what you had to do,” I tell her. “You survived. You don’t have to justify it by trying to make sense of why he was a bad man. Sometimes, people are just bad, and there’s nothing that can change it.”
Her eyes shine in the low light, fierce and fragile all at once. “You really believe that?”
“I do.” I swallow hard, because the truth that follows comes from a place I didn’t know existed in me. “And I think I’m done pretending I don’t care about you.”
She blinks, startled, and for a second I think I’ve said too much. But then her shoulders ease, and she lets out a shaky breath that sounds like relief.
“You shouldn’t,” she says quietly. “I’ll only bring you trouble.”
“Too late for that,” I reply, half-smiling. “You already did. And I’d do it all again.”
The words settle between us, heavy and real. I don’t try to take them back. I can’t. She’s in my blood now, tangled up with every instinct I’ve ever had; the need to protect, to possess, to keep.
When we step out of the car, the air smells of pine and wet earth. The forest hums softly with rain. I follow her up the porch steps, and when she unlocks the door, I can’t resist touching the small of her back, just a brush of my fingers, enough to remind myself she’s real.
Inside, the cabin feels the same: quiet, safe, a place carved to escape violence and turned into something almost gentle. She moves toward the fire, shrugging off her jacket, and I watch her, the way her hair catches the light, the curve of her neck, the exhaustion pulling at her shoulders.
That’s when it hits me. Not lust. Not obsession. Something deeper.
I’ve spent years killing for men who never deserved my loyalty. And now I’d kill a thousand more just to see this woman smile again.
Sienna looks up at me, her expression unreadable, and I know she’s thinking of Roman’s note, of the blood money sitting in her name. But all I see is the strength it took for her to get here, to survive, to keep her soul intact.
Whatever she decides to do with that money, burn it, give it away, save the world one wounded soul at a time, I’ll be there. I’ll drive her, guard her, hold her hand through every storm.
I step closer. Her gaze flicks up, questioning, and I let my thumb trace her jaw before I press my forehead to hers.
“We’ll figure it out,” I whisper. “You and me.”
When she exhales, a small sound of trust escaping her, I know I’ve already made my choice.
I’m hers. Completely.
I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, her luscious mouth. I pull her close and sink into the kiss with veneration, revelling in the taste of her, the feel of her.
When we pull apart, both breathless, the weight of the day easing slightly with each passing moment, she looks up into my eyes.
“I’d do it again,” she finally says. “And I’m okay with that.”
“So am I,” I reply, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and smoothing my knuckles over her jaw. “But it really pays to have a way out if you plan to kill someone,” I add, teasingly.
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Sienna
