"That’s not fair. He’s not like that."
"He treats people like garbage!" Danny lunges, closing the distance before I can turn to run. He grabs a handful of my hair, jerking my head back. The cold steel of the barrel digs into my temple. "But now? Now I have something he wants. Do you know how much the Lepin family will pay for his wife?"
"He’ll kill you," I gasp, clawing at his hand. "Let me go, and maybe he’ll make it quick."
"Shut up!" He slams me back against a shipping container. Pain explodes in my shoulder. "He’s not here. It’s just you and me, Aria. Maybe I’ll have a little taste before I sell you off. A wedding present."
He leans in, his breath sour, his free hand grasping at the bodice of my dress. Revulsion chokes me. I kick out, connecting with his shin, but he just laughs, tightening his grip on my hair until tears prick my eyes.
"Scream," he whispers against my ear. "I want to hear you scream for him."
BANG.
The sound isn't a gunshot; it’s a thunderclap that shakes the very foundation of the warehouse.
Danny’s head snaps back violently. A fine mist of red sprays the metal container next to my face. His grip on my hair goes slack instantly.
He crumples to the floor, eyes wide and unseeing.
I slide down the wall, gasping for air, trembling so hard my teeth chatter. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. The words bounce around in my head as I shake it from side to side. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Brains and blood are on my face, and my ears are ringing. The blood… I need to vomit. Instead, I lift my hands and scrub away the acid remains of my former friend. Vicious strokes and swipes, as if I’ll ever feel clean again.
Then, Igor is there. Standing at the warehouse entrance, thirty feet away. His gun is smoking, tendrils swirling lazily from the barrel. He doesn't look like a man; he looks like a god of vengeance carved from ice and granite. His chest heaves.
"Igor." The name is a broken sob.
He holsters the gun and sprints. I’ve never seen him run, never seen him lose that terrifying, controlled grace. But he scrambles over debris, falling to his knees in front of me, his expensive suit dragging through the grime.
He doesn't speak. He grabs me, hauling me off the ground and crushing me against him. His arms are bands of steel, locking me so tight I’m forced to stop wiping. But I don't care. In his arms, I feel clean again. I’m okay. I’ll survive. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of gunpowder and safety.
"I’ve got you," he growls, his voice raw, unrecognizable. "I’ve got you."
He pulls back just enough to check me. His hands—usually so steady—shake violently as they cup my face, tilting my head side to side, checking for injuries. He wipes a speck of Danny from my cheek, his eyes dark with a murderous agony.
"Did he touch you?" The question is a low snarl. "Did he hurt you? Thank God, the guards alerted me and I was able to track you through your phone when you left the house."
"You saved me," I weep, clutching his lapels. "I'm okay. You came."
He pulls me back into him, one hand tangling in my hair, pressing my ear firmly against his chest.
“I told you I would come. I will always fucking come for you.” His promise bathes me. Cleaning me of the rotten stench of fear. I’m safe. For once, someone cared enough about me to keep me safe. Most children have that as a birthright. I had to wait until marriage.
His heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to break through his ribs to get to me. It’s erratic, terrified, a frantic drumbeat that matches my own. It’s the only sound in the world. I close my eyes, focusing on that rhythm, letting it ground me, letting it chase away the ghost of the gun against my temple.
"I told you," he whispers into my hair, his lips trembling against my temple. "I got you."
"I'm sorry," I cry, the guilt crashing down. "He said... he said he had proof. I thought I could help. I thought I could be useful."
"You are my life," he says fiercely, pulling back to look me in the eye. "You are not an asset. I don’t need to protect me.”
“That’s who we are now. We look out for each other.”
“If I lost you..." He chokes on the words, unable to finish. He glances down at Danny’s body with cold indifference, then back to me with a look of consuming worship. "The war, the money, the territory—let it all rot. None of it matters without you."
"I love you," I whisper.
"I love you," he vows.
He kisses me then, fierce and desperate, stealing the breath from my lungs. We stand over the corpse of the man who triedto destroy us, clinging to each other, our hearts beating in a chaotic, synchronized rhythm of survival.
