A quiet laugh slips out of me. Pathetic. The man who swore he didn’t need anyone, clinging to a woman like she’s the only thing keeping him breathing.
Maybe she is.
I remember New York.
That morning a few weeks ago when I woke up just like this—her in my arms, my heart in my throat—and I still had to let her go. I told myself it was the right thing to do. That it was safer. Cleaner. Easier.
But I lied.
The ache from that day hasn’t left me, not once. And now, having her here again feels like the universe took pity on a man who didn’t deserve mercy.
I press my face into her hair and breathe her in, grateful for every second of this quiet, fragile peace.
I won’t take it for granted this time.
Whatever it takes, whoever I have to become—I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep her mine.
Because I love her. God help me, I love her so much it terrifies me.
My phone buzzes in the quiet, and my whole body goes still. Sasha stirs beside me, and I move fast—snatching it up before the sound wakes her.
Roman.
I slip out of bed and step into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. “What is it?” I keep my voice low.
“You’re not going to like this,” Roman says. There’s noise in the background—traffic, voices. “One of my contacts in Athens just intercepted a message from the Petropoulos inner circle.”
My stomach tightens. “Go on.”
“They’re planning to reach out soon. You’ll get a deadline—either you hand Sasha over, or they’ll collect her themselves.”
I say nothing for a long moment. Just stand there, pulse hammering in my throat.
When I finally speak, my voice is calm, almost too calm. “Let them try.”
Roman exhales on the other end. “Lev, you need to tread carefully from now on. They’re not bluffing. If they’re making threats like this, it means they’ve already started moving.”
I clench my jaw, staring out the window as dawn bleeds through the curtains. “I’ll die before I hand her over.”
“Lev—”
“No.” My voice comes out like steel. “If those Greek idiots think something like that is ever going to happen, they’re dumber than I thought. Let them come. I’ll be waiting.”
There’s silence for a beat, then Roman mutters, “Just don’t do anything reckless.”
Too late for that.
I’m still on the call with Roman when Mikhail appears at the end of the hall, moving fast, his expression grim. I hold up a hand, ending the call.
“What?” I snap, already irritated. “Can’t you see I’m on the damn phone?”
Mikhail doesn’t flinch. “This can’t wait.”
I narrow my eyes. “Talk.”
He exhales. “Lev…someone inside the Bratva might be feeding the Greeks information about Sasha’s movements. The details they’ve got—it’s too precise. They know her routes, her guards, her schedule. That’s not a coincidence.”
My stomach knots. I stare at him, silent for a long beat. Then my voice drops, quiet and cold. “You’re saying we have a rat.”
