Whatever choices I have to make, whatever battles lie ahead, I know one thing with absolute clarity.
Anya is my everything.
The drive back to Anya’s house is quiet, but not uncomfortable. She sits beside me, fingers laced together in her lap, staring out the window as the city slips past. Every so often, she glances my way, as if grounding herself in the fact that this is real—that she’s safe. I keep one hand on the wheel, the other resting close enough that she can reach for it if she wants. If she does, I’ll never let go.
“Would you have dinner with me tonight?” I ask Anya. We have our future to discuss.
Anya flits her gorgeous blue orbs to mine and smiles. “I’d like that.”
When we step inside, the entryway lights are already on.
Skylar stands near the sitting room, her posture tense, eyes sharp—until she sees Anya.
“Oh my God,” Skylar breathes, rushing forward. She wraps Anya in a tight hug, holding her as if she might disappear. “Are you okay? I heard—” Her voice cracks. “I was so worried.”
Anya hugs her back, gentle but reassuring. “I’m okay,” she says softly. “I promise. I’ll tell you everything, but I need to check on Nadia first. I just need to see her.”
Skylar nods quickly. “Of course. Of course.”
Anya gives me a small look over her shoulder before heading down the hall. The moment she’s gone, the air in the room shifts. Skylar straightens, her expression guarded now, calculating.
I don’t waste time.
“Your CIA contacts,” I say flatly. “They’re the ones who told you what happened tonight, aren’t they?”
Her eyes flicker. Just for a second. Enough.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, too fast. “I heard bits and pieces—”
“I saw you,” I cut in, stepping closer. My voice is low, controlled, far more dangerous than if I were shouting. “I saw you with them. I heard what you told them. About Anya. About her family. About turning them into assets. Spies.”
The color drains from her face.
“That’s not—Vladimir, you don’t understand how this works,” she says, backing up a step. “I am trying to protect her. This is bigger than—”
“If you hurt her,” I say quietly, “if you manipulate her or use her for your handlers, I will kill you.”
The words land heavily between us. I mean them. She knows it. Skylar swallows hard, her bravado crumbling as fear seeps through the cracks.
“I would never hurt Anya,” she whispers.
“You already have,” I reply. “Don’t do it again.”
Footsteps sound in the hallway. Skylar stiffens just as Anya returns. Her expression shifts instantly, concern and warmth snapping back into place like a mask. She forces a smile and takes Anya’s arm.
“Come on,” Skylar says softly. “Let’s go upstairs. Tell me everything that happened.”
As they walk away, Skylar glances back once.
Our eyes meet.
I don’t blink.
She turns and follows Anya up the stairs, knowing exactly what she saw in my gaze—and exactly how far I’ll go to protect the woman I love.
Alexandr’s office has always felt like a throne room pretending to be a study. Dark wood paneling, heavy desk, the faint scent of leather and old cigars—everything about the space is designed to remind anyone who enters exactly who holds the power here. I stand in front of his desk, hands clasped behind my back, my expression neutral. Inside, I’m coiled tight.
He studies me for a long moment before speaking.
