“The traitor is dead,” Viktor says, his voice projecting across the pier. “You’ll follow my lead now.”
“Not me.” Petrov steps forward, his gun lifted. “I’m done answering to any of you.”
My stomach drops. Not now. Not after everything we just crossed to get here. Viktor huffs out a laugh, though the sound strains as Petrov flips the safety. The guards hesitate, waiting for a signal that isn't coming.
“You drugged me,” Viktor says, his voice flat. “I won't grant you freedom.”
“Then I’ll take you with me,” Petrov snaps. His hands shake. The barrel stays locked on Viktor’s chest.
“Andrei,” Lev says carefully, holding his palms up in a universal gesture of peace. “We can talk about this.”
“No,” Petrov barks, his face contorting. “I want?—”
A knife whistles through the air, cutting the night with a sharp flash. It strikes Petrov square in the forehead with a sickening thud. His eyes go wide, the pupils blowing out as blood begins to run from his nose. The blade shudders once in the bone, then he gurgles, stumbles, and collapses onto the cold concrete.
Silence snaps tight around us, heavier than the fog. We all turn toward the car.
Babushka stands by the open door, calm as stone. She doesn't look at the body. “Come home soon, boys,” she says, her voice reaching us clearly over the wind. “I miss you.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
VIKTOR
“That was…intense. Is this your life? Always?”
“Always.”
Steam still clings to my skin when we make it back to bed. I washed the docks off Jonah in the shower. I moved slow, like if I went too fast he might vanish under the spray. He barely spoke. He just stood there while I worked the night out of his hair and off his hands and down the backs of his arms. I watched the water run dark around his feet until the tiles were clean again. I didn't stop until the harbor was down the drain and he was warm again.
Now he’s curled against me, his cheek tucked under my jaw. His breathing has evened out. Mine hasn't. The adrenaline is still a low hum in my blood.
“How did she know?” he asks softly. “Babushka.”
“She knows everything,” I say. I don’t make it sound like a joke. My mouth finds the place where his neck meets his shoulder. He shivers, but he doesn’t pull away. I can feel the pulse in his throat—a steady reminder that we both made it off that pier.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.” My hand slides over his ribs, feeling the movement of his breath. “You’re protected now. By me. By my men. By her. By the name you’re sleeping under.”
He goes still at that. Then his fingers curl into my shirt, like he needs proof I’m real. I answer him without meaning to, pulling him closer. He’s still here after tonight’s execution, and that is what matters. My chest finally drops, the tightness easing just enough for me to breathe.
“I still have questions.” His lips wobble.
“Go on and ask.”
I lean down and take him into my mouth. Jonah cries out, the sound sharp and immediate while his hands tangle in my hair. I take my time, licking and sucking, swallowing the precum he gives me as I keep him right on the edge. I want him focused on the friction. I want him to forget the sound of the gunshots.
“You… will you move back to the mansion?” His voice barely holds.
I pull off him and look up through my lashes. “Yes. We’ll all move there, and you are coming too.”
Relief breaks across his face before he can hide it—a smile breaking over his lips. “Okay. Okay.”
I take him back into my mouth, making his next cry come out muffled. “Viktor, I’m… I’m really horny. I didn't think, after tonight, but—I’m afraid I’ll come too soon.”
“That’s not a question.”
