A section of wall explodes inward to our left, and I feel the heat of flames. The torches from the courtyard must have ignited something. Now we're racing not just against collapsing stone but against fire.
The passage ahead brightens. Moonlight. Fresh air. The exit.
We burst out into the courtyard just as the monastery implodes behind us. The sound is deafening, a roar like the end of the world. I throw Alina to the ground and cover her body with mine as a wave of dust and debris washes over us.
For a moment, there's nothing but noise and chaos. Then silence falls, broken only by the settling of rubble and the distant wail of sirens.
I push myself up on my elbows, looking down at Alina beneath me. Her red hair is gray with dust, her face streaked with dirtand tears. But her green eyes are bright, alive, focused on me with an intensity that makes my chest tight.
"You okay?" I ask, my voice rough.
She nods, coughing slightly. "You?"
"I'm fine." I help her to her feet, and we turn to look at what remains of the monastery.
It's gone. Reduced to a pile of rubble and smoke. Centuries of history, of prayers and secrets, now just broken stone. And somewhere beneath it all, Mikhail Volkov's body lies buried.
A fitting tomb for a ghost.
"Pakhan!" Alexei's voice cuts through my thoughts. He's limping toward us, his shoulder still bandaged from the earlier wound, but his face is alive with relief. "Thank God. We thought you were inside when it came down."
I look around the courtyard. My men have secured the perimeter, weapons still drawn but no longer firing. Mikhail's surviving soldiers are on their knees, hands behind their heads, surrounded by my people. Bodies lie scattered across the ancient cobblestones, but fewer than I feared.
"Report," I order, my voice automatically shifting into the cold tone of the Pakhan.
"Minimal casualties on our side. Borge took some shrapnel, but he'll live. We have eight prisoners." Alexei's blue eyes flick to the rubble. "Mikhail?"
"Dead." The word is final, absolute. "Buried under there somewhere."
Alexei nods slowly, processing this. "It's over then. Finally over."
Is it?I want to believe him, but I've been in this world too long to think any victory is permanent. There will always be another threat, another challenge, another man who thinks he can take what's mine.
But for now, in this moment, it's over.
I turn to Alina, and something in my chest cracks open. This woman who slapped Mikhail Volkov across the face. Who offered herself as a sacrifice to save me. Who stood beside me through fire and blood and collapsing buildings.
My wife.
"Give us a moment," I tell Alexei.
He nods and moves away, barking orders to the men, coordinating cleanup and prisoner transport. The courtyard empties as my soldiers give us space, understanding without being told that their Pakhan needs privacy.
I pull Alina into my arms, holding her so tightly, I hear her gasp. But I can't loosen my grip. Can't let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She's trembling, or maybe I am. Maybe we both are. The adrenaline is draining away, leaving behind the reality of how close we came to dying. How close I came to losing her.
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her beneath the dust and smoke. Jasmine and something uniquely Alina. The scent that's become home to me.
"I love you." The words tear from somewhere deep in my chest, a place I thought I'd sealed off decades ago. "I love you, Alina. I love you, and I almost lost you."
I feel her go still in my arms, and for a heartbeat, I wonder if I've made a mistake. If I've revealed too much, shown too much weakness. Men like me don't get to say such things, don't get to have such vulnerabilities.
But then she pulls back, just enough to look up at me. Tears stream down her face, cutting clean tracks through the dust and grime. Her green eyes are bright with emotion, with something that looks like joy and relief and love all mixed together.
"I love you too," she whispers, her voice breaking. "You're not going to lose me. You're not going to lose us."
She takes my hand and places it on her stomach. Her flat stomach.
