Bear crashed into my legs, apparently just noticing I was home, tail wagging so hard his entire back end moved. He'd somehow gotten butterscotch chips stuck in his fur, and what I really hoped wasn't vanilla extract dripping from his beard. When he tried to jump up, he left flour paw prints on my pants that looked like tiny ghost hands.
"He's going to crash hard when the sugar wears off," I said, watching him tear off again, this time carrying what looked like a spatula.
"I'm so sorry," Eva said again, but I could see her fighting not to laugh at the absolute absurdity of it. "I tried to catch him but he turned into some kind of ninja. Who knew puppies could move that fast?"
The adrenaline was fading, leaving me shaky and slightly nauseated. I'd been prepared to find Eva dead or taken. Instead, I'd found her battling a sugar-crazed puppy in a kitchen that looked like a flour bomb had detonated. My legs finally gave out, and I sank onto one of the bar stools, pulling her between my knees.
"Ivan's in the hallway," I remembered suddenly. "With a laptop. Alexei has soldiers heading here."
"Soldiers?" Eva's voice pitched higher. "For Bear's sugar rampage?"
"We thought you were being kidnapped. The security system—"
"Oh my god," she breathed, then started laughing. Not gentle laughter but full-body, helpless giggling that turned into wheezing. "You called in the cavalry for a puppy sugar high. The big bad Bratva enforcer mobilized an army because Bear learned to open cabinets."
She was right. It was absolutely ridiculous. We'd been prepared for war, and instead we'd found a hyperactive puppy and a baking supply explosion. The contrast was so absurd that I felt my own laughter building, the kind that came from relief and exhaustion and the impossible comedy of life.
Bear zoomed through again, now dragging a dish towel like a cape, and that broke what remained of my composure. I laughed until my sides hurt, until tears ran down my face, until I couldn't breathe. Eva collapsed against me, both of us shaking with mirth while our sugar-drunk dog continued his victory laps through the destroyed apartment.
Chapter 15
Eva
Thegreensilkdressclung to my thighs where I'd twisted the hem into knots, each turn of fabric between my fingers counting off another mile toward Brooklyn and whatever waited for me at the Volkov compound. Dmitry had picked it out himself this morning from some boutique that didn't have price tags—deep emerald that he said made my eyes look like jewels. Now it felt like costume armor for a battle I didn't understand the rules of.
Dmitry had been keeping me secret from his brothers up until now, but he’d told me this morning that it was finally time for me to meet them.
Bear sprawled across my lap. His warm little body should have been comforting, but even his steady breathing couldn't slow my heart rate as familiar Queens streets gave way to industrial Brooklyn.
"You're going to ruin the dress," Dmitry said, his voice gentle but his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel in that way that meant he was in enforcer mode, not Daddy mode.
I forced my fingers to release the fabric, smoothing it flat against my thighs. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Just breathe."
The buildings grew more industrial, windows barred or bricked over entirely. Graffiti changed from artistic tags to territorial markers I didn't recognize but that made Dmitry's jaw tighten.
Then we turned a corner and reality hit me like cold water.
The building looked like nothing special—another Brooklyn warehouse among dozens. But the men standing outside weren't hiding what they were. Automatic weapons hung from shoulder straps, body armor visible under jackets despite the warm day. One raised a hand as we approached, not threatening but acknowledging, and spoke rapid Russian into a radio.
"Volkov," was the only word I caught, but it was enough. Dmitry responded in Russian through his open window, his voice different in his native language—harder, more commanding. The guard nodded, stepped aside, and massive steel doors rolled open to reveal a ramp leading down into darkness.
My stomach dropped as we descended. This wasn't some movie set or romanticized mob hangout. This was military-level security, the kind of operation that existed completely outside normal law. The underground garage sprawled before us, lit by harsh fluorescence that turned everything corpse-pale. Dozens of identical black SUVs lined up in perfect rows, and I counted three mechanics working despite it being Saturday afternoon.
One SUV had its side panel removed, revealing bullet holes that had punctured through metal like it was paper. The mechanic welding it shut didn't even look up as we passed.Another vehicle had its doors open, interior stripped, and the smell hit me before I saw it—copper and bleach, the combination that meant someone was cleaning blood from leather seats.
"Eva." Dmitry's hand found mine, steadying. "Look at me."
I turned from the violence being casually repaired to find his dark eyes watching me with something between concern and assessment.
"This is what we are," he said simply. "What I am. I’ve been keeping it from you, keeping you protected. If it’s too much, if you need to leave—"
"No." The word came out stronger than I felt. Bear stirred in my lap, yawning, and I drew strength from his uncomplicated presence. "I'm not running. I just . . . I need a minute to adjust."
He squeezed my hand once before parking in a spot marked with Cyrillic characters I couldn't read.
As we walked through the compound's corridors, our footsteps echoed off concrete walls painted green-gray. Doors lined the hallway. Through one of them, cracked open, I glimpsed racks of weapons that belonged in a war zone, not in Brooklyn. Through another, the distinctive shape of body armor hanging like roosting bats.
