The gunfire gets closer. Farther. Closer again. Like a tide of violence rolling through my home.
Through Dimitri’s home.
Whereishe?
The wet sounds of violence filter down—bodies hitting floors, glass breaking, things I can’t unhear once I’ve heard them. And through it all, one thought is on repeat. Where is Dimitri? Is he out there? Is he hurt? Is he?—
No. I won’t finish that thought. I won’t give it power. He promised to come back. Dimitri Volkov doesn’t break his promises.
At least, I hope he doesn’t. My track record on men keeping their promises is not exactly stellar.
The fighting continues for minutes that feel like hours. And then—silence. Complete, absolute, terrifying silence. I stand frozen, barely breathing, counting my heartbeats because it’s the only sound left.
One. Two. Three. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred.
Still nothing.
Then the sound of footsteps.
They’re slow and measured, coming down the stairs with the kind of casual confidence that makes my skin crawl.
They stop outside the door.
Three sharp raps. Like a neighbor asking to borrow sugar instead of a psychopath who probably just murdered his way through my security team.
“Vera?” The voice is muffled by steel but the casual and friendly tone is unmistakable. It’s the same tone he used when asking if I wanted Thai or Italian. “It’s me. Open up.”
Alexei.
And just like that, fear transforms into rage so pure I can taste it.
“Fuck off,” I call back. “I’m not opening this door.”
A pause. Then he laughs and it’s the same charming laugh that used to make my stomach flutter. Now it just makes me want to vomit. God, how did I ever find him attractive?
“Vera, be reasonable. Konstantin’s men control the estate now. Dimitri’s security team is either dead or fleeing. You can’t stay in there forever.”
Dead or fleeing. The words hit like gut punches but I don’t let myself process them.
“And even if you could,” he continues—I can practicallyhearhis smile—”what about the baby? You’re what? Thirteen weeks now? You need proper prenatal care and nutrition. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to takecareof you. Of both of you.”
Take care of me.
The sheer fuckingaudacity.
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” I lean against the nearby wall, matching his casual tone. “Because from where I’m standing—or, you know, locked in a panic room—it looks a lot like kidnapping.” I shrug. “But I guess when you’re a sociopath, the semantics get fuzzy.”
Silence. Good. Let that sink in.
“You tried to kidnap me,” I continue, letting the words pour out. “You grabbed me hard enough to leave bruises and shoved me intofurniture. That’s your idea of taking care of me? Because I have to say, Alexei, your bedside manner needs work.”
“That was unfortunate.” His voice has an edge now. “I was frustrated. You were being difficult?—”
“Difficult?” I laugh. “You mean when I refused to go quietly while you tried to kidnap me? Yeah, how unreasonable of me. Really should have been more accommodating to the man who spent eight months playing me like a fucking violin.”
“Don’t be crude, Vera,” Alexei snaps. “It doesn’t suit you.”
I make a face even though Alexei can’t see it. “You know what doesn’t suit me? Being told I was perfect breeding stock. Getting pregnant because you sabotaged the condoms—which is rape, by the way, in case you missed that particular legal memo—being used as a pawn in your sad little power fantasy.”
