"Somewhere secure."
"I want to go home. I want to see my family."
"That's not possible right now."
"Why not?"
He studies me for a long moment, and I see something flicker in his eyes - calculation, decision, something I can't quite read. Then he leans back in his seat and says, "Because whoever attacked that church wanted everyone inside dead. Until I know who and why, you're staying with me."
It's not a request. It's not even really an explanation. It's a statement of fact, delivered with the absolute certainty of a man who's used to being obeyed.
And as we speed through the darkening streets, leaving behind the burning church and my dead fiancé and everything I thought my life would be, I realize with a cold certainty that settles in my bones…
I've just traded one prison for another.
2
DIMITRI
The church burns behind us, flames licking at the night sky like the tongues of demons. I can hear the sirens now—police, fire, ambulances—all racing toward the carnage. Too late. Always too late.
I sit in the back of the SUV, my phone pressed to my ear, coordinating with my men. Alexei's voice is steady despite the chaos, reporting casualties and securing the perimeter. Fifteen dead, maybe more. Three of my best soldiers among them. And Sergei.
My nephew. The boy I raised after my brother died. Gone.
I push the thought away. There will be time for grief later. Right now, there's only survival. And strategy.
“Take us the long way,” I order my driver. I don’t want to allow any chance of whoever was behind the attack following us.
Beside me, Alina sits in stunned silence, her wedding dress torn and stained with blood and soot. She's stopped shaking,which worries me more than the trembling did. Shock can be dangerous. It makes people unpredictable.
I end the call with Alexei and study her in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. Red hair wild around her pale face, green eyes staring at nothing. She's beautiful, even covered in ash and blood. Sergei had good taste, at least.
The alliance this marriage was supposed to secure is now in jeopardy. Viktor Popov's daughter was meant to bind our families together, to create a partnership that would strengthen both our positions in the Bratva hierarchy. Now Sergei is dead, and this girl is a loose end, a vulnerability that my enemies will exploit or eliminate.
But she's also valuable.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice is hoarse from smoke and screaming.
"Somewhere safe."
"I want to go home. I want to see my family."
I've already had this conversation with her once. My answer hasn't changed. "That's not possible right now."
"Why not?" She turns to face me, and I see the fear giving way to anger. Good. Anger is better than shock. Anger keeps you alive.
"Because whoever attacked that church wanted everyone inside dead. Until I know who and why, you're staying with me."
"You can't just kidnap me!"
"I just did."
Her eyes flash with fury, and she lunges for the door handle. The child locks are engaged, of course, but she doesn't know that yet. She yanks at the handle desperately, her breath coming in short gasps.
"Let me out! Let me out right now!"
I don't respond. I've learned that sometimes silence is more effective than argument. She pounds on the window, screaming for help, but we're already in the exclusive neighborhood where my estate is located. High walls, private security, people who know better than to interfere in Bratva business.
