I want to hug him, to put my hands on his cheeks and sayI’m here, I’m unharmed. But under the relief there’s a sour heat that climbs my throat and burns. It tastes like betrayal. It tastes like the fear I’ve been swallowing for days and finally can’t.
“You up and left me without a word,” I remind him. “Then your stupid decisions nearly got me killed. Over and over!”
For a second his face is a boy’s again—a flinch, an apology forming. Then his jaw hardens, his chin lifts to try and look brave. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying to fix it. You don’t know?—”
“I know enough,” I snap. “I know that you stole guns from the Bratva and sold them to the bikers that tried to kill me. I know you disappeared and then left me to face down your crimes!”
He jerks as if I slapped him. “I didn’t know you would get involved. And I was going to come back for you,” he says, sharp. “I would’ve called when it was safe. I?—”
“You called when I finally guilted you into getting off your sorry ass,” I say, because I was there for that too—the phone vibrating against the table, Dominik’s thumb on speaker, Archer’s voice thin and scraped and suddenly helpful when I lied about my life being threatened. “And now you’re here, and you’re still making excuses and making everything about you.”
“Everything is about me,” he spits, and for a second his honesty is almost merciful. “I’m the one in chains. They wantmyblood. And I know that you’re in this because of me. So let me get us out of it. We can leave town together.”
“To go where, Archer?” I ask. The words come out soft and mean. “Tell me where we can go that they won’t follow us.”
“Anywhere that isn’t here,” he says, and the chain jumps when he yanks his wrists. “You don’t understand what men like this do for sport. He’s just been using you, keeping you, to hurt me. The Bratva kill me, and then what do you think will happen to you, Alina?”
My mouth is dry and full of a hundred contradictory words. I don’t get to choose which one I say because the door opens again, and the chill of the room suddenly warms without the thermostat moving.
Dominik fills the door, and the guards straighten behind him. Archer pulls his shoulders back and tries to look taller than the man who looks at him like a problem that’s already solved. I’m not looking forward to hearing the conclusion he’s reached.
Gray eyes come to me first. Something loosens and sharpens in me at once before his gaze slides to Archer and the softness closes like a book being slammed closed.
“You’re right about one thing,” he says to Archer. His voice is low, almost polite. “The Bratva will never let you live.”
Archer laughs once, the sound of a shovel hitting a rock. “Then shoot me and stop pretending you have a conscience!”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Dominik replies, mild as a man ordering coffee.
I look at him because I can’t not. He’s in black, like usual. The shirt is crisp except where it meets the bandage under it; the fabric pulls a fraction wrong near his ribs, and I can almost feel the tug of his stitches from here. He smells of clean soap, gun oil, and kept promises. A heat that isn’t anger and isn’t fear warms my soul.
“Gavriil has set a final deadline,” Dominik says, still watching Archer. “Time is up. He wants me to kill you and find the rest of the money, now that he has most of the inventory. If I refuse, I have to deliver her to him.”
The words don’t sound hypothetical. They sound like a verdict that’s already been written.
My back finds the wall though my legs don’t remember moving. “What?”
“I gave you all the money I had.” Archer turns his gaze to me because he knows he owes me at least that much.
“What happens if you refuse?” I ask. My voice is only steady because it has to be.
“What do you think?” Dominik asks.
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. Gavriil wouldn’t kill his own brother for failing to follow orders. Would he?
“Yes.” Dominik doesn’t look away.
Archer is shaking his head so hard he looks dizzy. “This is bullshit! He’s bluffing. You’re telling me that your brother—” He jerks half a laugh. “Your brother is some kind of king and you’re here playing house with a hostage? Give me my sister and let us walk out of here. You said you would give her a choice!”
Dominik’s mouth curves in something unfriendly. “You don’t walk anywhere without my say so. Or hers.”
“Then what the fuck are we doing?” Archer shouts. “What do you want? Me to get on my knees and beg her? You’ll kill me anyway.”
Dominik takes one step forward. “I told you I would let her choose. You should start doing whatever you think will convince her to choose you.”
The room goes very quiet and still. Even Archer stops scraping his cuffs against themselves.
“What?” I ask, because the word is the only thing left in my mouth.
