"It's over."
He pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. The water cascaded over us both, washing away blood and smoke and the lingering horror of everything we'd survived.
I don't know how long we stood there. Long enough for the shaking in my limbs to finally stop. Long enough for the tight knot of fear in my chest to begin—slowly, tentatively—to unravel.
When we finally stepped out of the shower, he dried me with a towel warmed from the rack. Gentle, careful, treating me like something precious. Then he wrapped me in a silk robe and guided me to the bedroom.
The bed was enormous—white linens, more pillows than two people could ever need. I sank onto the edge of it, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. Every muscle ached. My eyes burned from tears I hadn't let myself cry.
Vasily sat beside me, his hand finding mine.
"You should sleep," he said.
"I can't." The words came out trembling. "Every time I close my eyes, I see—I hear—"
The dam broke.
The tears I'd held back through the capture, the boat, the hospital—they came flooding out in great, heaving sobs that shook my entire body. I cried for the terror of hiding in that closet. For Yelena's scream. For the bodies in the hallway, men I'd known, men who'd died protecting me. For the hours on that boat, bound and helpless, not knowing if I'd ever see Vasily again.
He pulled me into his arms and held me while I fell apart.
"I was so scared," I gasped between sobs. "I thought—when they found me—I thought I'd never—"
"I know." His hand stroked my hair, steady and sure. "I know, little dove. Let it out. I've got you."
"And then in that room—when he had the knife—I thought that was it. I thought I was going to die, and the baby was going to die, and I'd never get to—" I choked on the words, unable to finish.
"Never get to what?"
I pulled back enough to look at his face. His green eyes were bright with something I'd never seen in them before—not fear exactly, but something vulnerable. Something unguarded.
"I never told you," I whispered. "That was all I could think about when I thought I was going to die. That I'd never told you how I feel."
He went very still. "Gabrielle—"
"I love you."
The words hung in the air between us, fragile and enormous. I watched his face—the shock, the wonder, the way his breath caught in his throat.
"I love you," I said again, stronger this time. "I know it's insane. I know you kidnapped me, and this whole thing started as—as something else entirely. But I love you, Vasily. I've been falling for weeks, and I was too scared to say it, and I almost died without—"
He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not careful. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air, like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His hands cupped my face, tilting my head back, and he poured everything he was feeling into the press of his lips against mine.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"I love you." His voice was raw, wrecked. "I've loved you since before I had any right to. Since the first moment I saw you through that restaurant window, laughing at something on your phone, completely unaware that your whole world was about to change."
"Vasily—"
"I told myself it was an obsession. Possession. Something dark and selfish that I could control. But it was never that. It was always this—this thing that's been building between us, this feeling I couldn't name because naming it made it real. Made it something I could lose."
"You didn't lose me."
"I almost did." His forehead pressed against mine, his breath warm on my lips. "When those feeds went dark—when I realized what I'd walked into—I thought I'd lost everything. You, the baby, the only future I've ever wanted."
"I'm here." I took his hand and pressed it to my stomach. "We're here. You found us."
