The driver didn't get out. Just sat there, engine idling.
I opened the back door myself, slid in.
Leather seats. New car smell mixed with something colder—old money, old blood. No partition. Driver didn't speak. Didn't look in the mirror. Just pulled out smooth, up the ramp, into the empty streets.
Luxury prison.
The car ate up the dark road in silence.
No radio. No small talk. The driver didn't acknowledge me beyond the single nod when he'd taken my suitcase at my building. I sat in the back, window cracked just enough for cold air to slap my face, trying to keep the panic from rising in my chest.
My phone was in my hand, thumb hovering over Alena's name.
I typed again:I love you. I'm sorry. Forgive me please stay safe.
Stared at it.
Deleted it.
Typed again:I'm coming back. Wait for me.
Deleted it.
Typed:If something happens—
Deleted it.
I couldn't send anything. Wouldn't dare. Klaus was watching. He'd see it. Use it. Turn my love into a weapon against her.
And I couldn't risk Alena panicking, trying to figure out why she should stay safe. I would keep her safe. No matter what.
The car turned onto a private road, gates swinging open without a word from the driver. A small airstrip appeared, lit by harsh floodlights that turned the night into artificial day. The private jet was waiting—a Gulfstream, sleek and white, stairs down like an invitation to hell.
The driver handed me my bag and pointed toward the plane. Still no words. Maybe he didn't speak English. Maybe he'd been told not to engage. Maybe this was how the Bratva worked—silence and obedience, no questions, no connection.
I walked up the stairs alone, my footsteps echoing on the metal.
Inside was exactly what I expected. Cream leather seats. Polished wood paneling. Champagne chilling in a bucket I wouldn't touch. A flight attendant appeared—young, blonde, professionally blank—and offered me a drink.
"Welcome, Mr. Solberg." She leaned in closer than necessary, her hand brushing my shoulder as she set the glass down. Her shirt had one too many buttons undone, revealing smooth skin. The touch lingered.
I pulled back sharply. "Don't."
Her eyes widened slightly—surprise, maybe offense—but she recovered fast. Professional mask back in place.
"Of course. My apologies." She stepped back.
All I could see was Alena. Her smile from last night. The way she'd looked at me like I was the only man in the world. The way she'd whispered my name.
I was a taken man. Completely. Irrevocably.
And I'd break anyone who tried to make me forget it.
She vanished toward the front cabin.
I threw my bag at an empty spot and caught the eyes of a man sitting across the aisle—judging my choice to reject her. Smirking slightly.
I took a step closer, staring him down. "Something funny?"
