He turns from the bar, speaking once more. “My father helped Louisa escape. Whether or not my father knew Peter would find out about this is hard to say. Whatever my father had in mind, this ignited the falling-out. Peter viewed Louisa as his property, and in Peter’s eyes, my father stole something that belonged to him. Just like that, the war began.”
“What about Johan?”
“Born into all of this,” he says. “I’ve known him since he was a boy. Brilliant as they come. Peter always fantasized about using his son’s talents to make the Bratva stronger, crafting his son into the perfect heir. But Johan was too smart for that. He realized quickly that the old ways were nothing more than a quick path to a jail cell or a grave—the same conclusion I came to, which is why I made the offer. If anyone can turn this war into business, and end it for good, it’s him.”
The tone of his voice surprises me a little. It’s not cold or calculating—it’s almost admiring.
“You actually respect Johan,” I say.
“I do,” Sasha admits. “He wants out. Same way I did. We were both born into it, which we had no control over. But wedohave control over whether or not we end it.”
I sip my tea, letting the warmth calm the chill in my blood. The explanation puts his relationship with Johan in a new light—two men born from bloodlines they didn’t choose, trying to build something new, something better.
He slips his phone out of his pocket and quickly checks it. “He texted me tonight.”
“He did?”
Sasha nods. “Yes. He’s still considering the merger. End of quarter—that’s the deadline. If he signs before then, AngelCorp absorbs Dandelion. And since Dandelion represents just about all of Morozov’s legitimate assets, that meansI’llown Morozov. I can fold everything into legitimacy. No more war.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He wants to. My worry is what Peter might do… to dissuade him. But there’s a damn good chance Peter has found out already and is gunning for you, because takingyouout would be the most low-key way to derail the merger.”
A shiver runs up my spine, knowing I’m in the crosshairs.
“So you’re betting everything on the son of your father’s rival.”
“I’m betting on the only man who hates the old ways as much as I do.”
His words are steady, but I can sense the exhaustion, the weariness behind them. He’s carried this for a long time. I have to admit he’s right—there’s no way I could know what it’s like to be him.
I study him as he sips his drink and looks away, paying special attention to the lines around his eyes, the way he keeps his voice calm, even when it seems like everything around him is in utter chaos.
“So this is all about peace,” I say.
He almost smiles. “Peace and… more than a little money.”
The clock on the wall ticks faintly, marking seconds that feel strangely heavy. His gaze drifts towards the window, the clouds parting for a moment, and golden hour light cutting faint lines across his face.
“When I received news of the shooting… I thought I’d lost you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I could’ve.” His voice tightens. “And I can’t live knowing it could happen again.”
Something in the way he says it undoes me. I glance down at the cooling mug of tea in my hands. My tremor from before is back, and I’m not sure why.
“You can’t protect me from everything, Sasha.”
He steps closer. Just the little bit of nearness makes my breath catch. His expression is grave, serious. “I can try.”
Silence folds around us, thick as smoke. He stops just in front of me, his free hand raised.
“Tell me to go, and I will. If you want, I’ll send you wherever in the world you want to go. You can be away from all of this. Just say the word. You want to be alone—that’s what you can have.”
I don’t say the word. Instead, I put down my tea and reach for his wrist, circling my fingers around it. His skin is warm, his pulse thrumming. The sonograms sit nearby on the coffee table.
“I don’t want to go,” I say. “But Iamscared.”
