His hand found mine, and his thumb brushed the bare skin of my finger. “Where’s your ring?” he asked, turning toward me.
Frowning, I glanced up at him. “The cab driver…” I shrugged. “It was the only way he’d bring me here.”
He squinted and shook his head. “You have the only ring you need. I marked you with ink and claimed you for life. But nobody takes what’s mine.”
I felt a flicker of pity for the cabbie, but my heart ached far more for the families of First Officer Jensen and the flight attendant. Death had become too common in this world I’d stumbled into, a world crawling with predators who thrived on other people’s pain. I’d lived naïvely until Nik walked into my life, blind to the rot festering beneath the surface of our society. Now the veil was gone—ripped clean away.
Nik thought of himself as a monster, a man too dark to be saved—but I knew better. He was the kind of morally gray man that hunted worse things in the shadows. He was a weapon forged in violence, yes—but one wielded to shield the innocent. My husband wasn’t the villain. He was the dark angel who waged war in hell’s shadows and walked with the devil, choosing to burn and shouldering damnation so the innocent could remain untouched.
The fire continued to rage, lighting the morning in a violent kaleidoscope of orange, yellow, and black. Nik and I stood side by side, holding each other close, lost in our thoughts as smoke curled around us.
He brushed his lips over the shell of my ear. “They’ve declared war,” he said softly. “Now they’ll see what happens when I fight with my queen at my side.”
Christmas Eve
A light, powdery snow drifted down, settling over Fifth Avenue and glittering in the glow of the streetlamps. The city was wrapped in that rare, perfect winter hush—the kind that fell only when the snow was fresh and thick enough to muffle everything but the sound of our footsteps. Lacey’s white coat, the one I’d had Aria deliver to her the day I’d made her choose her future, looked as if it had been made for this exact night. Its fur collar framed her flushed cheeks beautifully, the cuffs circling her wrists as her hand stayed firmly tucked in mine.
We’d spent the last few hours wandering past the holiday window displays—admiring the jeweled gowns at Bergdorf’s and watching the tiny entertainment of the animated toy trains at Saks. Lacey’s radiant laughter spilled into the cold air with every stop.
She was bubbling over with pure, happy energy after spending the day shopping with Nat and Jae. I might not be able to help her realize her Broadway dreams yet, but bringing thosetwo into our fold had been the right move. When I’d gone to their apartment to collect Lacey’s things, I’d given them a blunt explanation about her disappearance. They weren’t stupid—they understood that just knowing her had already dragged them into the shadow of my world. They might have been apprehensive, but their loyalty to Lacey ran deep. They were good friends to her, and after I’d offered to bankroll their theater dreams, it hadn’t taken long for us to figure out an arrangement that worked for everyone.
The only mistake I might have made was moving them into my building. Between rehearsals, late-night monologue rehearsals, and their version of “adult sleepovers,” my penthouse had become louder than I’d ever thought I would tolerate. It was chaos—but a strange sort I didn’t mind. Ana was going to laugh her ass off when she visited next week and saw it for herself.
But the truth was, I didn’t care. I loved my wife. And for the first time in my life, I could see a future that wasn’t only full of psychological warfare with the criminally insane or bloodshed in backrooms. As long as I kept myself straddling the line between light and darkness, I would be okay. There wasn’t much else I could have wanted.
Our snowy walk had brought us to the familiar black-and-gold sign of Cipher Coffee, where it had all begun.
Inside, the air was rich with the scents of espresso, cinnamon, and roasted chestnuts. Carmine stood behind the counter, his reading glasses perched halfway down his nose as he counted cash. Trina leaned against the back wall, scrolling on her phone, her glossy lips pursed in permanent disapproval.
Carmine looked up first. His face broke into a rare smile.
“Well, well… I’ll be damned. Volkov.” His gaze shifted to Lacey. “And look who we have here…”
“My wife,” I said, savoring the words as I eased her forward. “Mrs. Lacey Volkov.”
Without hesitation, Carmine came out from behind the counter and pulled her into a side hug. The movement was awkward, as if it wasn’t something he did very often. “Was starting to think you’d vanished for good,” he muttered almost gruffly, but the warmth in his tone gave him away. “Glad to see you alive…and glowing.”
“Thank you, Carmine,” she said, smiling up at him.
Trina slid her phone into her pocket and stepped forward, eyes flicking from me to Lacey. “Did you say…Lacey?” Her brow creased. “Mrs. Volkov?” The name came out as if it had caught in her throat.
“That’s right,” Lacey said, amused at Trina’s reaction. “Lacey’s my real name. I went by Lyla before, but…that’s a long story.”
“Mm.” Trina’s answering smile was stiff. “Well. Congratulations, I suppose.”
Carmine waved her off with a grunt, then looked back at us. “Christmas Eve deserves a hot drink. Peppermint mocha with a little something extra to warm you up?”
Lacey lit up. “Yes, please. It’s not Christmas without a peppermint mocha.”
“And the usual for you, Volkov?”
I nodded. “Americano.”
Carmine gestured for Trina to take care of it, and she busied herself at the coffee machine. He leaned in slightly toward me. “Heard about the mess with Delgado and those MS-13 scum. Happy you both made it out breathing.”
I grunted. “It’s far from cleaned up. Best be ready, Carmine. This war is global.”
Before he could reply, the door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air. Lucian entered and quickly shut the door behind him, brushing snow off his black cashmere coat and woolen scarf.
