I cross the room, cupping her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks like I need to reassure myself she’s whole. Breathing. Here.
“He tested you,” I say. “That wasn’t an accident. That was a measuring strike.”
“I know that,” she fires back. “Which is why I—”
“No.” I cut her off, voice low but absolute. “Youare not walking into public spaces right now. You are not predictable. You are not exposed.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You don’t get to cage me.”
The word hits hard.
I take a breath, forcing control.
“I’m not caging you,” I say. “I’m keeping you alive. I don’t want to go through losing you again. I love you, and that bastard isn’t getting anywhere near you.”
“You don’t get to decide thatforme.”
I step back, hands fisting at my sides. This is harder than any firefight.
“Malenkov doesn’t miss,” I say. “He escalates. Today was glass. Tomorrow it’s a car. A source. A bystander.”
Her voice drops, dangerous and calm. “And the day after that, he thinks I’ll disappear.”
“Yes,” I say. “And he’s wrong.”
She crosses her arms. “Then why are you grounding me like a child?”
Because I’ve already buried people I loved.
Because I will not bury you.
Because I don’t know how to say that without sounding like I’m breaking.
“You are my line,” I say quietly. “And he crossed it.”
Her breath stutters.
“I will not lose you,” I continue. “Not while I still have breath in my body.”
Silence stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid.
Then Lena exhales slowly.
“Okay,” she says.
The ease of it makes me suspicious. “Okay?”
“Yes,” she says. “I won’t go out.”
Relief flickers—brief, dangerous.
“But,” she adds calmly, “I’m not stopping.”
I stare at her. “Stopping what?”
“Working,” she says. “Digging and connecting dots. You want me safe? Then let me do what I do best—from here.”
She steps closer, placing her hand over my chest, right above my heart.
