“Hey.” I reach over and squeeze her knee. “Look at me.”
She tears her fearful eyes from the side mirror to meet mine.
“We’ve got this. I promise.”
I take a sharp turn onto a side street, then another, weaving through the grid of Boston’s downtown. The sedan stays with us, speeding as we do.
As we hit a stretch of empty road, the sedan swerves out, trying to pull alongside us. Gela screams and shrinks into her seat, and a fiery rage comes over me.
No one’s fucking laying hands on her. No one’s hurting her tonight.
“Hold on,” I warn Gela, then cut the wheel hard, skidding into a narrow alley. The sedan tries to follow, but the driver miscalculates and smashes into the wall.
I put my foot on the pedal, leaving the wrecked car behind.
I move through the back streets, following the map for the way out on my GPS, but constantly check the mirrors until I’m certain we’ve lost them.
Only when we’re on the road heading toward home do I finally slow down to keep to the speed limit.
“Are you okay?” I ask Gela.
She nods, but her breathing remains shallow, and she’s shaking like a leaf. I reach across the console and take her hand in mine. It’s ice cold.
When we finally pull through the gates of the estate, I feel relief like no other. I roll down my window on the way in and update the guards on the gate, telling them to stay on high alert tonight.
Finally, we reach the mansion doors. I stop right in front, knowing one of my men will park the car later. I turn off the car and undo my seatbelt, but Gela just stays quiet and pale, staring right ahead.
“Gela,” I say softly as I lean over her and remove her seatbelt. She blinks up at me, as if just realizing where we are.
I get out of the car and head to her door. When I open it, it’s like once again, she isn’t there anymore.
“Gela,” I say softly. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
I give her my hand, and she takes a few seconds to take it, like her brain and body aren’t one. We walk in together, handin hand, but I don’t yet feel comfortable letting her go off to her room.
Whatever Viktor said has shaken her up so badly that I know she needs to be soothed before we call it a night.
I take her straight to the living room and lead her to the couch. She immediately sits down and just stares at her hands on her lap.
I kneel in front of her and take both her hands in mine.
“You’re safe now, okay?” I tell her firmly. “We’re home. Nothing can touch you here. My men are patrolling the grounds, and we’ve got an army protecting us. A whole army, you hear me?”
She looks at me then, and the fear in her eyes begins to recede.
“What did he say to you?” I ask finally.
She draws a shaky breath. “He said... he said I made the wrong choice and that I should have been working for them, instead of cozying up with you.”
Her voice begins to choke. “He threatened me, Valentin. He said people who betray the Zakharovs have accidents. That... that skin burns easily, and bones break easily.”
“That bastard,” I hiss, clenching my fists. I want to grab my gun and keys, hunt down the fucker, and bury him where he stands. I want to burn his entire fucking life down. But for now, I just take a few deep breaths and keep a clear head.
But right now, Gela needs my attention. Not him.
“Listen to me,” I say calmly, despite the fury boiling inside me. “Viktor Zakharov is all talk. He was trying to scare you.”
“Well, it worked.” Her face drops.
