“It’d be total chaos.”
“And easy pickings. Vlad could gobble up everything. Hell, with the CEO gone and no legal heirs, the members of the Volkov Bratva would be begging for a steady hand like Vlad to move in and take charge.”
“Money,” I say again. “It’s all about the money.”
“Money, power, and respect. That’s all there is with these Bratva men.”
I sigh heavily, my heart racing. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It sounds insane, but it also makes sense. Why else would Vlad take me under his wing when no one else would touch me with a ten foot pole?
“Trina,” I whisper. “If you’re right, then I’m just waiting for him to pick the day.”
“Not if we move first,” she says.
The room tilts. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve been hedging for weeks,” she says lightly, like she’s happy I’m on board. “I hoped I was wrong. But I lined up a few things in case I wasn’t. A safe apartment in Queens that doesn’t trace back to me or you. A driver I trust. A lawyer who can start unwinding your parent’s holdings from Volkov’s mess if we push the right buttons. People who oweme, not Vlad.”
I stare at the window until the snow blends into a blur. “You did all that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’re in love,” she says simply. “And I wasn’t going to be the one to stomp that to death unless I had to.”
Love. She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Pack a bag,” she says. “Documents, cash, a change of clothes.”
“I’ve already got a bag packed. Vlad wanted me to have a go-bag just in case.”
She lets out a wry laugh. “Well, perfect.”
“Now what?”
“You wait. You’re locked up tight in there, and there’s not a chance in hell Vlad’s going to let you leave unsupervised. I’ll talk with Jack. Don’t worry—soon, we’ll all be safe.”
Safe. The word sits in my mouth like a pill I can’t swallow.
“Trina, what if you’re wrong?” My voice sounds tiny on the last word. “What if he’s actually trying to protect me? What if this is as simple as Aleksander wanting me dead in revenge for Maxim?”
“Teresa.” Her tone softens so much it tugs at my heart. “If I’m wrong, he’ll forgive you for trying to keep yourself and your baby safe. If I’m right, you’ll be safely away from him. But I’m not wrong.”
I think about my parent’s plane, Maxim bleeding out on the marble, the four men in Central Park who Vlad killed. I think about Vlad at the sink, red water spiraling away, and how he touched me afterward so carefully you’d think I was made of glass.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I say as the tears finally come.
“You don’t have to know tonight,” she says. “You just have to be ready to move the second I give the word. Let me handle the rest.”
A small, ugly part of me whispers this is exactly what I’ve done my whole life—let someone else handle the rest. First Dad, then Maxim, now Vlad. But I don’t have a better plan. I don’t even have a baseline for what reality is anymore.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Help me.”
“Good girl. I’ll text in an hour.”
“An hour?” Panic spikes. “He has men downstairs.”
“I know,” she says. “But we’ve got a plan in motion. Just be ready.”
I glance toward the closed door. “Trina, if he finds out?—”
