I keep moving, heading deeper into the yacht. Toward the back. Toward areas marked restricted. Staff only.
She's not in the public areas. Which means she has to be back there. In the private sections. Where they keep premium merchandise separate from the general population.
Two guards block the entrance to the restricted hallway. Bigger than the ones at the gangplank. More alert. More professional.
They look like they know what they're doing.
"Private area, sir."
"I'm looking for someone."
"Everyone's in the main area. This section is restricted to staff only."
But Lila's not in the main area. I've checked every face. Which means she's behind these guards. Behind that door. So close I can almost feel it.
These two stand between us. Between me and the only thing that matters in this whole goddamn world.
This is about to get reckless. About to get bloody. About to blow my cover completely.
But I don't give a single fuck.
They're in my way.
And I'm coming, little dove.
30
LILA
My heart's too loud. It's in my ears, in my throat. I canhearit, feel it vibrating through my ribs like it wants to escape on its own.
The yacht hums beneath me, engines low and steady. But we're not still anymore. We'removing.The deck shifts—slow, certain. Water pulling away from the hull.
We're leaving.
Leaving Chicago. Leaving the docks. Leaving any chance Ivan had of finding me before we hit international waters.
Before I become unfindable.
My future stretches ahead—Moscow, some pervert's private collection, years of things I can't let myself imagine fully, or I'll break down completely.
And Ivan. Ivan will never know what happened. He’ll search for a while, maybe. Then eventually give up. Move on. Marry whoever the families want him to marry. Forget I existed.
The suite around me doesn't match what I am.
I'm a problem being shipped away.
But this room is luxurious. Leather couches. Mahogany furniture with intricate carvings. Soft lighting that makeseverything look warm and rich. Bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets like this is a celebration.
Why?
Why this suite?
After I torched his bunker. After I sprayed perfume in his face like a weapon. After every ounce of chaos I've caused him—why reward me with luxury?
Unless it's not a reward.
Unless he's planning to be here.
