Yet here I am, moving through his world, my heart knotted tight with longing and terror. I’ve become someone I barely recognize—a woman who waits at windows, who startles at every shadow, who wants more than survival.
By mid-afternoon, the anxiety is a living thing, coiled tight in my chest. I’m halfway through another circuit of the hallway when Nikola appears in the foyer—unexpected, blocking out the light with his broad frame.
The last time we met, we nearly tore each other apart with words; I’d threatened him, and he’d made it clear he’d rather shoot me than trust me. Now, his presence is somehow worse—a reminder that something big is coming, and Leon wants me guarded.
He gives a nod that’s all business, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Leon told me to stay with you. ‘Until I get back, she doesn’t leave your sight.’ That’s what he said.”
I try to keep my voice steady. “He trusts you with that?”
Nikola shrugs, a hint of humor softening his usual gruffness. “He trusts you more than you think. But I’m not here to keep you in. I’m here to keep you alive.” He glances around, as if expecting threats to spring from the Persian rugs. “You did good work today, Suzy. He said you found Vadim.”
I don’t answer, chewing my lip, thinking of the map, the blinking red dot, the thrill of discovery. It hadn’t felt like luck—it felt earned.
Now, the pride curdles into something colder.
We sit in the lounge, the minutes crawling by. Nikola talks in his low, gravelly way, mostly to fill the silence.
He tells me about his early days in the Bratva, about how Vadim was always difficult, unpredictable, the kind of man you never turned your back on.
“He was dangerous before he lost everything,” Nikola says. “But after Leon exposed him—he turned feral. Every move is a gamble, every ally just another card to play.”
I nod, only half listening, until his words start to rattle in my mind. Unpredictable. Ferocious. Impossible to anticipate. If that’s true—if Vadim is such a wild card—how did I find him so easily? How did a man that careful, that paranoid, leave a trail I could follow in a single morning?
Nikola is still talking, but the room tilts beneath me. A chill runs down my arms. I replay the hours at the desk—the ease with which I bypassed security, the way the files unfolded, as if waiting for me.
The blinking red dot wasn’t just a victory. It was a lure.
My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, breath caught high in my throat. “Nikola,” I say, words coming in a rush, “it was too easy. Vadim isn’t sloppy. He doesn’t make mistakes—not unless he wants someone to see them.”
Nikola frowns, catching on, his body tensing. “You think he left the trail on purpose?”
I nod, fear cold and certain now. “It’s a setup. He wanted us to find him. He wanted Leon to come.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. My mind races—every piece clicking into place with sickening clarity. I remember the pattern of Vadim’s attacks, the way he always made his traps look like chances. I remember the feeling in Leon’s eyes, the pride, the hunger. I should have seen it sooner.
Nikola stands, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call him. If he’s not in yet, we can warn him off—”
As he dials, I know with certainty that it’s too late. The dread turns to action, sharp and inevitable. I pace the room, panic mounting, trying to plan my next move. I won’t wait again—not when I finally understand how easily things can be lost.
As Nikola curses into his phone, trying to get a signal through the Sharov house’s thick walls, I clench my fists and force myself to breathe. I never wanted to care this much, never wanted to be this afraid.
With Leon’s life hanging in the balance, all my old rules mean nothing.
It wasn’t a victory. It was an invitation to ruin. And Leon walked straight into it.
I glance at the door, resolve setting in. I won’t wait for him to come back, not this time. If I have to go after him myself, I will.
I want more than to survive. I want to save the man who risked everything for me.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Leon
The warehouse looms at the end of a deserted street, broken windows winking in the dark, the stench of rust and rain thick in the air.
I step from the car, jaw tight, gun already drawn. My men fan out—shadows with nerves wired tight, faces set. The only sound is the scuff of boots and the soft click of safeties coming off.
The coordinates Suzy found run through my mind, every step forward coiling tension tighter in my chest. Too easy, I think, but there’s no going back.
The doors creak open, metal screaming. We slip inside, flashlights slicing through the gloom. The warehouse is a maze—crates stacked like tombstones, catwalks snaking overhead. I signal the men to spread out, to cover every blind corner.
