They've been impossible to pin down. Always in motion. Always on phones, speaking in code I'm not meant to understand. Meetings that start early and run late. Conversations that stop the moment I enter a room.
Something happened. Significant enough that they've closed ranks and shut me out.
Although I hardly saw them for the last three days, they were attentive, always letting me know they were thinking of me through phone calls, messages, small gifts that appeared on my nightstand like tokens of affection.
When I asked Maksim what was going on, he gave me that look. The one that says he's already decided what I need to know and what I don't. "The less you're involved, the safer you are," he said, voice brooking no argument.
I wanted to argue anyway. Wanted to point out that I'm not some delicate thing that needs protecting from reality.
But I also have my own secrets. My own operations I can't explain. So I swallowed the frustration and let it go.
Still, being kept in the dark makes me restless. Suspicious. The not knowing gnaws at me worse than any truth could.
And underneath the suspicion, underneath the operational concerns and strategic thinking, there's honesty I've been trying not to acknowledge.
I miss them.
I miss Maksim's controlled intensity. I miss Alexei's chaos and warmth. I miss Zakhar's steady presence.
Three days of brief encounters and distracted goodbyes has left me aching. Lonely in a way I haven't been since this arrangement started.
Which is dangerous. I can't afford to need them. Can't afford to let this become more than the contract we signed.
Except it already is more. Has been for weeks. And lying to myself about it doesn't change the truth.
Then there's a knock at my door.
"Come in," I say automatically.
The door opens.
Alexei stands in the doorway, and the sight of him makes my pulse accelerate.
I fumble with the laptop. Close it too quickly. Set it aside on the nightstand with movements that probably look as guilty as I feel.
"This is a surprise," I manage.
He leans against the doorframe, and I can see the exhaustion in every line of his body. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair disheveled like he's been running his hands through it for hours. The usual wild energy banked to embers.
"Good surprise or bad surprise?" he asks, but there's no humor in his voice. Just tiredness and need barely contained.
"Very good surprise." I smile, trying to convey how much I mean it. "Come in. Please."
He enters, closing the door behind him. Crosses the room in a few long strides. When he reaches the bed, he doesn't hesitate. Just leans down and kisses me.
The kiss is passionate. Desperate. Like he's been starving for this and finally found sustenance.
I kiss him back with equal hunger, my hands finding his face, his hair, pulling him closer. Tasting exhaustion and want and relief in equal measure.
When we break apart, we're both gasping.
"I missed you," I say, the admission easier than I expected. "You've all been working too hard. Gone too long. I barely see any of you anymore."
"I know." He collapses onto the bed beside me with zero grace, face planting into the mattress with a groan. "I've hardly slept. I'm so fucking tired,kotyonok."
The vulnerability in the admission cracks open pressure in my chest. Alexei, who's all energy and motion and reckless vitality, brought low by whatever crisis has consumed the past three days.
I shift closer. Press my hands to his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled in every muscle. Start massaging his neck with firm, careful pressure.
