Now I understand and part of me can’t blame her. I exhale slowly. “You didn’t know who I was or what any of this really meant.”
“No,” she says. “But I do now.”
We walk a few more steps, silence blooming between us. A path opens around a small lake rimmed with reeds, moonlight turning the water silver. She stops at the edge. I clutch the USB drives still in my hand.
“Is there anything on those you’d miss?” she asks.
I look down at them. They’re full of secrets, leverage, and proof of the money that helped me build my world. I shake my head. “Not a thing.”
Without hesitation, she plucks them from my palm and pitches them into the lake. The splash is quiet. Final. We both stand next to the lake, watching the ripples fade.
She turns to me, eyes softer now, shimmering with something fragile and new. “You said you had something to tell me.”
I nod. My chest tightens—not from fear, but from the weight of what I’ve held in for far too long.
“Yeah. I do. I’ve been good at keeping things in,” I start, my voice low and steady. “My whole life, really. Feelings. Fears. Weaknesses. It’s how I was raised. How I survived. You lock things down. You don’t show your hand. You protect what matters by keeping it hidden.”
She says nothing, just watches me with that fierce, open gaze of hers. The one that sees everything.
“But then you got on that plane,” I say, my lips curving into a smile. “And suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it was nothing, that it would pass. But it didn’t.”
Her breath catches.
“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. A lot of faces, names, women who smiled but never really saw me. You did. From the first moment, you saw right through all the ice. And somehow, you didn’t run.”
A lump rises in my throat. I swallow hard. “I fell for you so fast, Astrid. Before I even knew your last name. And then, once I did—once I learned who your father was, who you were connected to—it scared the hell out of me. Because I thought it meant I had to walk away. That the history was too complicated.”
She opens her mouth, but I shake my head gently, stopping her from saying anything.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. You got under my skin, and then deeper. You terrified me, Astrid, because you made me want things I never let myself want.”
She takes my hands and grips them.
“I should’ve told you I loved you the night I realized it,” I say. “I should’ve said it a hundred times since. But I kept waiting for the right moment. For the perfect time. And then you were taken, and I thought I might never get the chance again.”
My voice cracks, just a little, at the last sentence. “The thought of losing you, of losing our children…” I trail off, jaw clenched,blinking fast to ward off the tears. “I’ve seen death a hundred times. But nothing has ever scared me like that did.”
I meet her eyes, heart bare. “I love you, Astrid. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And I don’t want a life where I have to pretend that’s not true.”
She pulls me into her arms, and I bury my face in her neck, holding her like she might vanish if I let go.
“I love you too,” she whispers. “I’ve loved you this whole damn time.”
We kiss—slow, deep, aching.
And for the first time in weeks, everything feels still.
CHAPTER 41
YURI
The room is quiet, dimly lit except for the low sun slanting through the blinds. A conference table stretches between us, polished mahogany that reflects the gold ring on Ivan Abramov’s pinky as he drums it against the wood.
He’s not a man who fidgets.
We’ve been speaking for thirty minutes. No aides, no bodyguards. Just the two of us.
“Spalding’s finished,” I say, leaning back. “The FBI has everything. His contacts, his bribes, his dirty assets. He won’t last a week in gen pop.”
