“And if I don’t want your future?” I whispered.
His gaze darkened, possessive and aching all at once. “Then I will build one you do want.” He kissed my forehead. Reverent. Claiming. “You are my priority. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
I wasn’t sure if that comforted me or terrified me to my bones. But I knew one thing for certain—my life wasn’t mine anymore. Not fully. Not ever again.
And snow—delicate, inevitable—began to tap against the window glass.
Winter had officially arrived.
So had the Bratva’s claim.
Chapter 2
Maksim
Two Days Later
Leaving her felt so fucking wrong.
Not like an inconvenience. Not like she was merely business—because she wasn’t, and I was fully aware of that now.
No, this was like wrong deep in my bones.
Sofia stood by the window of what was now her new bedroom in my uptown apartment. Scratch that. Our bedroom—wrapped in one of my shirts, hair messy from sleep. Among other things. She looked small there—a soft thing in a world made of cold, harsh edges. My world.
A world I’d dragged her into. She thought she was here simply because she was pregnant. What she didn’t know was that someone had been following her. In her state, I didn’t want to frighten her more than she likely was already.
She traced the melting snow as it ran down the outside of the glass, watching the city below. Snow dusted the rooftops like powdered sugar, deceptive innocence over concrete and rot. A city that would swallow her whole if I blinked too long.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered, still facing the cold outside.
“You think I do?” My voice was rough. I stepped behind her, hands settling on her hips. Warm. Fragile. Mine. Slowly, I slid one hand around to rest protectively over her still-flat belly. “Russia is necessary.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I felt the fear in the way her breath hitched.
“Why can’t you just leave all of this? Why would you want to be a part of Boris and his greed?” she quietly asked as she continued to stare out the window.
Unable to answer her because she wouldn’t understand, I gently turned her to face me. “You will not be alone.”
She tilted her head questioningly as her brow furrowed right before a sharp knock sounded. Precise. Measured.
I didn’t want to let her go, but I reluctantly released her to answer the door.
A man stood there. Tall. Broad. Cropped hair. Quiet, but keen eyes. Ex-military. Loyal. Most importantly, lethal.
One of my old friends from my brief military days—someone I trusted implicitly.
Stepping back, I motioned for him to enter. Once he was inside, I glanced up and down the hall—just in case. No doors opened, and there were no sounds of anyone near them.
His lips twitched briefly. “Do you think I would have knocked if I felt there was a threat?”
“Habit,” I replied with a slight shrug.
I watched as his attention moved to a point over my shoulder. My senses were already so in tune to her that I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Sofia.
“Archer,” I introduced before I glanced to her, “This is Sofia. You do not leave her side. You sleep in the spare bedroom. You drive her to and from work, if she so desires to go there. You breathe when she breathes.”
Sofia’s head snapped toward me. “Whoa, wait. He’s staying here?”
