"Both of us, Ilya. Or neither of us. That's the only choice I’ll be able to live with."
Sergei laughs, but there's an edge to it now. "How touching. But you don't get to make demands, Miss Winslow. You're not in control here."
"Neither are you," I growl, rage curdling in my gut as I stare at the scene in front of me, at the man who would dare to threaten not only me but the woman I love.
And then I whistle—one sharp note that echoes through the warehouse.
The chaos is instantaneous.
Kazimir and his team burst through the loading dock entrance, weapons blazing. Alexei's team comes through the side door at the same moment. We planned this, timed it down to the second. A coordinated assault from three directions, an overwhelming force with no hesitation.
Sergei's men try to respond, but they're caught in a crossfire, outnumbered and outmaneuvered. The warehouse erupts into violence—gunfire, shouting, the smell of smoke and blood.
I move before Sergei can react, closing the distance between us in seconds. He tries to swing his gun toward me, but I'm faster, knocking it aside and driving my shoulder into his chest. We go down together, and I hear Mara scream my name.
One of my men is already cutting her free, his knife slicing through the zip ties. Another is doing the same for Svetlana. I catch a glimpse of Kazimir taking down two of Sergei's men with brutal efficiency, and then I'm focused entirely on the man beneath me.
Sergei is strong and well-trained, and he fights like a man with nothing to lose. We grapple on the concrete, trading blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. He gets his hands around my throat, squeezing, and for a moment my vision starts to darken.
Then I remember the way I felt when I found the penthouse empty. I remember the bodies of my men, killed because I wasn't there to protect them. I remember every moment of the last few hours, the terror and rage and desperate need to get Mara back. I think of leaving her here, with no one to protect her.
Of failing a woman I love yet again.
I break his grip with a violence that surprises even me.
I flip him onto his stomach, wrenching his arm behind his back until I hear something pop. He screams, and I use the moment to grab my knife, pressing it against his throat.
"Ilya!" Mara's voice, closer now. "Ilya, stop!"
I look up and see her standing a few feet away, freed from her restraints, blood on her wrists and her eyes glittering with rage. She's looking right at me.
The fighting around us is dying down. Sergei's men are either dead or surrendering, and my men are securing the warehouse. Kazimir is finishing off a man on the floor, bleeding out from several wounds, and Svetlana is pressed with her back against a support beam, looking around in terror as she crouches on the floor and tries not to be in the line of fire.
But all of that fades into background noise as I stare at Mara, the woman who is everything to me.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, my voice rough.
"I'll be fine." She takes a step closer. "Are you?" I can see a flicker of worry in her eyes, and it loosens something in my chest. She doesn’t hate me completely, then.
"I'm fine." It's a lie—I can feel blood trickling down my cheek, my ribs are probably cracked, and my knee feels as if I wrenched it taking Sergei down—but none of that matters. I stare at her, swallowing hard.
"If I'd had to choose," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them, "it would always be you. No matter what. Always you."
Her lips part as if she’s on the verge of saying something, as if she wants to argue, but she finally just nods. As if maybe she’s finally accepted what we are to each other, this dark and complicated thing that defies easy definition.
"I know," she says softly.
Sergei groans beneath me, trying to move, and I press the knife harder against his throat. "Don't."
"Ilya." Kazimir appears at my side, his weapon still drawn. "We need to go. The shots will have caused a commotion. We’re going to have to deal with paying off cops and more complications if we don’t get out of here.”
“We will, shortly.” I’m still looking at Mara, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Kazimir starting to go toward Svetlana.
“Stop,” I snap, leaning up with Sergei still pinned. Kazimir halts, but I can see the conflict in his eyes.
“Get out of here.” I tear my eyes away from Mara and look at Svetlana. “You survived, thanks to the good heart of the woman you tried to hurt just a few days ago. Get the fuck out, and I don’t ever want to hear your name or see your face again. Come back into my life, and you’ll regret it.”
Her face pales, but she nods, looking at Mara for a brief second before she pushes away from the beam and to her feet, bolting for the door.
