I let the lighter click closed, setting it back on the nightstand. The metal gleams even without fire—scratched and scorched but unbroken. Just like me.
“I’m done being afraid. Done running. Done letting them control my life.” I look up at him, this man who’s taught me to fight, to shoot, to survive. This man who sees my darkness and calls it strength. “They created a monster when they killed my father. Now they get to meet her.”
His smile is slow and dangerous. “My Wolf.”
“Your Wolf,” I agree.
We fall asleep like that—tangled together, the lighter gleaming on the nightstand next to us, two predators planning tomorrow’s hunt.
Outside, the rain stops.
Inside, we sharpen our teeth.
26
Sergei
“This hearing is a formality,Mr. Orlov. You understand that?”
Judge Galeotti’s voice cuts through the courtroom, and I force myself not to look at Elena’s smug face across the aisle. She’s wearing pearls and a powder-blue suit that screams respectable mother, and her lawyer—some shark in Armani, who bills more per hour than most people make in a month—is already shuffling papers like he’s won.
“I understand, Your Honor.” My voice comes out steady. Controlled. Nothing like the violence churning underneath.
Izzy sits beside me, her hand finding mine under the table. She’s wearing navy silk that makes her blue eyes electric, black hair swept up to expose her throat. She looks like old money and steel, and when she squeezes my fingers, I feel that steel transfer to me.
The courtroom smells like furniture polish and desperation. Elena’s side is packed—her parents, her sister, that cousin who never liked me. All of them shooting daggers with their eyes, all of them convinced I’m a monster.
They’re not entirely wrong.
“The court has reviewed Mrs. Orlov’s petition for full custody.” Judge Galeotti adjusts her glasses, scanning documents. “Given recent events, and here I’m definitely talking about the attack at The Plaza and the incident at Mila’s school, the court finds cause for concern regarding Mr. Orlov’s ability to provide a safe environment.”
My jaw locks. Every instinct screams to argue, to fight back, but our lawyer—a sharp woman in her forties, who Tallulah recommended—gave me explicit instructions. Stay calm. Let her handle it. Don’t give them ammunition.
Elena’s lawyer stands, all theatrical gestures and practiced outrage. “Your Honor, if I may—my client has documented multiple instances of violence in Mr. Orlov’s presence. The child has been exposed to dangerous situations, criminal activity, and individuals of questionable character.” His gaze slides to Izzy, dismissive and cruel. “We believe full custody is in Mila’s best interest.”
Individuals of questionable character. He means my wife. The woman who’s been more of a mother to Mila in two months than Elena’s been in years.
My hand tightens on Izzy’s. She doesn’t flinch.
Our lawyer rises smoothly, her voice measured and sharp. “Your Honor, Mr. Orlov has never endangered his daughter. The incidents in question were attempts on Mrs. Isabelle Orlov’slife, believed to be orchestrated by Matthew Ashford himself. Mr. Orlov protected his family from external threats—threats that have nothing to do with his fitness as a parent. That’s not instability. That’s exemplary parenting.”
“The fact remains,” Elena’s shark continues, pacing like he’s performing for an invisible jury, “that violence follows Mr. Orlov wherever he goes. His background as a Bratva enforcer, his associates, his very presence attracts danger like a magnet. The child’s mother has every right to remove her from that environment before something terrible happens.”
Before. Like it’s inevitable. Like I’m a loaded gun waiting to go off.
Maybe I am.
Judge Galeotti looks at me over her glasses. “Mr. Orlov, do you have anything to say?”
I stand, releasing Izzy’s hand. The loss of her touch feels like losing armor, but I force my spine straight, my shoulders back. The Wolf doesn’t cower.
“I love my daughter, Your Honor. She’s the reason I left my old life behind. The reason I built something legitimate, something safe. Every decision I make—every single one—is about protecting her.” My voice roughens despite my best efforts. “Her mother’s using isolated incidents to paint a narrative that isn’t true. Mila is happy with me. Thriving. She has structure, stability, love. She’s learning that the world isn’t black and white, that people can change, that protecting the ones you love matters more than anything else.”
I pause, meeting Judge Galeotti’s eyes. “Taking her from me doesn’t protect her. It punishes me for crimes I haven’tcommitted while I’ve been raising her. And it teaches her that fear matters more than family.”
Silence falls. Even Elena’s lawyer seems momentarily at a loss.
Then he recovers, that oily smile spreading. “Beautifully said, Mr. Orlov. Truly moving. But actions speak louder than words. And your actions show a clear pattern of violence, criminal associations, and endangerment. You cannot deny?—”
