Eventually, I shake it off and undress. After sliding on the dress, I smooth my hands down the front and turn back to the mirror. Whatever just happened with Skylar can wait. Right now, all I want is to go back downstairs—to Vladimir—and hold on to the sense of safety he gives me, as if it’s something solid and unbreakable.
I take a deep breath as I head downstairs. My heart is light and hopeful, already picturing Vladimir waiting for me at the bottom. Each step feels easier than the last, as if shedding my costume upstairs also sheds the weight of everything that’s happened.
But when I reach the hall outside my father’s office, it isn’t Vladimir standing there.
It’s Alexi.
He’s leaning against the wall near the door, shoulders squared, his expression calm but determined. For a split second, I just stare at him, taking in the fact that he’s here, alive, whole in a way that still feels unreal.
“Alexi?” I call softly.
He looks up and smiles, a real one this time. “Hey, little sister.”
I hurry toward him and stop a few feet away. “What are you doing out here? I thought…” I trail off, glancing toward the office door.
“I’m taking back my life,” he says simply.
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done running,” he replies. “I’m done letting other people decide who I am.” He nods toward the door. “I have plans, Anya. Plans to fix the Bratva. To strip out the worst of it.”
“With Vladimir’s help?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “He’s not doing this for power. He’s doing it because it’s the right thing. And because of you.”
My cheeks warm, and I look down at my hands, suddenly shy. “I think… I’m falling for him,” I admit. Saying it out loud makes it feel terrifyingly real.
Alexi chuckles softly. “I know.”
I glance up, startled. “You do?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he says. “And the way you look at him.” His expression turns serious. “You picked well, Anya. You have my full support. Always.”
Emotion swells in my throat, and I step forward to hug him. He wraps his arms around me briefly, solid and reassuring.
“Wish me luck,” he says as he pulls back, turning toward the door.
“Good luck,” I whisper. “Be careful.”
He nods once, then raises his hand and knocks.
The door opens almost immediately.
“Alexi?” my father’s voice rings out, sharp with disbelief.
Alexi steps inside, closing the door behind him before I can hear anything more.
I stand there in the quiet hallway, my heart pounding—not with fear this time, but with hope—as I wait to see what kind of future my brother is brave enough to claim.
The door to my father’s office opens, and my breath catches before I even see who steps out.
Vladimir.
He pauses when he spots me waiting in the hallway, and the tension in his shoulders eases. A slow smile spreads across his face—warm, unmistakably real—and something inside my chest loosens in response. For a moment, the world narrows to just us, as if everything else is background noise.
“There you are,” he says, walking toward me.
“There you are,” I echo softly, unable to stop myself.
