"I know." Her voice is barely a whisper. "I saw it in his eyes. The way he looked at me. It wasn't relief that I'm alive. It was anger that I'm here with you."
Smart girl. She's learning to read the undercurrents, to see past the masks people wear.
"Three hours," I remind her. "That's all. Then you come back here, where you're safe."
She nods, her hand coming up to touch the pendant at her throat. "What if I don't want to come back?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. I study her face, looking for the truth behind the words. Is she testing me? Or is she genuinely considering staying with her family?
"Then I'll come get you anyway," I say honestly. "Because whether you believe it or not, you're safer here than anywhere else in this city right now."
Something shifts in her expression. Not quite trust, but maybe the beginning of understanding.
"Okay," she says softly. "Three hours."
I want to say more. Want to tell her that the thought of her leaving, even for three hours, makes my chest tight with something I don't want to name. Want to pull her against me and kiss her until she forgets about her family, about leaving, about everything except the heat between us.
But Viktor is watching, and my men are watching, and this moment is already too intimate for the audience we have.
"Go," I say, stepping back. "Alexei will keep you safe."
She nods and turns away, walking toward her father with her shoulders straight and her head high. I watch her go, memorizing the way she moves, the fall of her red hair down her back, the curve of her neck where the pendant rests.
Viktor places a possessive hand on her shoulder, and I have to clench my fists to keep from crossing the foyer and ripping his hand away. She's not his anymore. She's mine. Or she will be, once we're married.
If she comes back.
The thought sends ice through my veins.
Alexei follows them out, his hand near his weapon, his eyes scanning constantly for threats. I trust him with my life. I have to trust him with hers.
The foyer empties as Viktor's men file out, returning to their vehicles. My own guards maintain their positions, watchinguntil the last of the Popov soldiers is gone. Then the front door closes, and the house falls silent.
I move to the window, watching as Alina climbs into one of the black SUVs. Viktor gets in beside her, and even from this distance, I can see him talking to her, his hands gesturing. Trying to convince her of something. Trying to control the narrative.
The convoy pulls away, Alexei's vehicle following close behind. I watch until they disappear through the gates, until I can't see them anymore.
And that's when the warning hits me. A trickle at first, then a flood.
Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones, in the way Viktor's jaw tightened when I insisted on Alexei accompanying them. In the cold calculation I saw in his eyes when he looked at his daughter. In the way his men positioned themselves, like they were preparing for something.
I pull out my phone and call Alexei.
He answers on the first ring. "We just left the estate. Everything's fine so far."
"Stay alert," I tell him. "Don't let them separate you from her. Not for any reason."
"Understood."
I end the call and stand at the window, staring out at the empty driveway. Three hours suddenly feels like an eternity.
My phone buzzes with incoming reports. Updates on the church investigation. Messages from other Bratva families. Businessthat needs my attention. But I can't focus on any of it. All I can think about is Alina, driving away with a man who might be planning to kill her.
Or worse, planning to make her disappear entirely.
I should have said no. Should have refused Viktor's request outright, consequences be damned. Should have kept her here where I could protect her, where I could see her, where I could know she was safe.
But I gave her a choice, let her make her own decision. And now she's gone, and all I can do is wait.
