Iwake up with the sun. It hits my eyes from the crack in the blinds. I groan against consciousness, but it’s no use. My body wakes up without my permission.
Molly is sound asleep next to me, but she’s curled in on herself, the sheet tangled around her hips. She looks so small and fragile, so vulnerable. It’s completely different from the way she took control last night. I knew it was all an act. What happened yesterday was horrific.
I lie on my side and watch her for a long time. Her wrists are still chafed. There’s a faint bruise on her hip, though I can’t tell if that’s from those bastards or if I put it there. She looks so different from the fierce woman I’ve come to know.
It hits me that she hadn’t meant for last night to be a reunion. It was desperation, a primal need to find some balance and control after an ordeal that stole her sense of security. It doesn’t change how she feels about me.
I can see it all over her face. Even in sleep, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. Her priority is herself and our baby. How could I ever, even for one second, have chosen the Bratva over her?
I sit up, plant my elbows on my knees, and press my palms together until my knuckles crack. Last night, when I carried her out of that warehouse, something in me split clean down the center.
For years, maybe my entire life, I believed the world could only exist one way. Violence bought stability. Power bought protection. Loyalty was currency. Empire was survival. I knew how the world worked, and I knew that the only people who would ever truly accept and support me were my men.
Then I saw her chained to that mattress. I saw the way that creep was watching her. I watched the world I’d built collapse in three seconds.
I rub both hands over my face.
The Bratva has been my identity since birth. It was my heritage, my duty, my future. But none of that mattered when I saw Molly’s eyes wide, terrified, locked on her captor. When I saw what those bastards were putting her through, and realized what else they had planned for her. When she whispered my name like a prayer right before I shot that bastard in the face.
Thepakhanin me acted without hesitation, without remorse. The man in me, the one who loves her, reacted with fear and revulsion at what they’d done.
I can’t lose her. I won’t. Still, I know that I don’t deserve to keep her unless I change. I’m not sure I can live without her, and that’s worth a hell of a lot.
Last night, I saw the future. I saw what could happen if I didn’t give up the Bratva. The only thing waiting on the other side is a coffin, and it isn’t mine. It’s hers. That’s a price I refuse to pay. Nothing in the world is worth losing her for good.
She shifts in her sleep and makes a quiet sound that’s close to a sob. Instinct pulls me closer to her. I adjust the blanket up over her shoulder so she doesn’t get cold. She doesn’t wake up, thankfully, and I’m glad. She needs the rest.
I get up as quietly as I can and go to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water, then fill one up for her as well. She’ll probably be thirsty when she wakes up.
I go back into the room as quietly as possible and set the glass on the nightstand. I climb back into bed and wait patiently for her eyes to open. It doesn’t take long. She senses me there, waiting for her.
When she finally stirs, she blinks up at the ceiling first. She sighs heavily, coming back to herself and the present. It hurts me to watch pain play across her face as she remembers where she is and what happened. I wish I could take all the pain away. At the very least, I’m going to try.
She sits up slowly, careful of her sore wrists, before she finally looks at me. There’s no emotion on her face whatsoever. She just looks resigned and sleepy.
My voice comes out low.
“Good morning.”
She nods once and stretches carefully, wincing as her joints pop. She clears her throat and looks at the water on the nightstand. I can’t see her face, but she reaches for it very slowly, as if she didn’t expect anyone to take care of her in such a simple way. I watch as she gulps it down, then sets it back on the edge of the nightstand.
“We should probably talk,” she says, not looking at me.
“I agree,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.
Her jaw tightens as she looks at me.
“Last night didn’t change anything,” she says coolly. “You know where I stand.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “But you don’t know where I stand.”
She watches me carefully, her eyes more guarded than I’ve ever seen. There’s a thick wall between us, and I can only hope I find the words to start breaking it down brick by brick.
“I love you,” I tell her without hesitation.
She doesn’t react. Either she didn’t hear me or she doesn’t believe me. So I try again.
“I love you, Molly,” I repeat, more forceful this time. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I’ve ever loved in my entire life.”
