“No,” Adrik admitted. “But hearing your voice helps.”
“I’m right here,” Hans said. “All the way until you come home.”
Adrik leaned back on the couch, letting the warmth of Hans’ voice settle over him. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” Hans replied.
For the first time since landing in Russia, Adrik felt like he could breathe again.
After they ended the call, Adrik looked at the time. He called the hospital every thirty minutes to check on his mother. When she was out of surgery, they said he could visit tomorrow afternoon. Yakov left him alone and told him he’d pick him up in the afternoon and to call if he needed anything.
Adrik tried to rest, but his mind kept circling the same thought: Sergei was here. Close enough to walk to. Close enough for Sergei to hurt him all over again. Sleep came in short, restless spurts, never enough to quiet the unease sitting under his ribs.
Adrik ordered a car the next morning, though every part of him wanted to cancel it and pretend Sergei wasn’t living a few streets away. The ride through Seversk was silent, the windows fogging from the difference between the brutal cold outside and the heater blasting inside. When the car finally stopped in front of Sergei’s building, Adrik hesitated before stepping out.
The cold hit him like a punch. His breath turned to vapor instantly, and the wind cut straight through his clothes. He hurried up the walkway, boots slipping on packed snow, and rang the doorbell. The metal button burned his finger from the cold. If Sergei didn’t open the door soon, he was convinced he’d freeze solid on the spot. After the seconds stretched so thin they felt like minutes, the door swung open.
Sergei stood there in tight jeans and a thick brown cable-knit sweater, looking like he’d stepped out of a different life, one where he wasn’t hiding in Western Siberia. His hairwas longer than Adrik remembered, a little messy, brushing the tops of his ears. His beard was fuller too. The man was still impossibly broad-shouldered, still carried himself with a quiet authority that made people move out of his way without thinking.
And those eyes—deep brown, unreadable—still had that strange mix of softness and steel. Adrik had seen both sides. He’d been taught languages under that soft gaze. He’d also watched those same eyes go cold when danger was near.
“Adrik!” Sergei barked, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him inside. The door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicking into place.
The sudden warmth made Adrik’s skin sting. He was still shivering when Sergei rounded on him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sergei shouted.
Adrik shot back, “What are you doing in Western Siberia?”
Sergei didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Adrik’s jacket and peeled it off him like he was a child who couldn’t manage his own sleeves.
Same old Sergei—always the protector, even when he was furious.
“Follow me. We’ll talk.”
Adrik trailed him through the house, scanning every room they passed—kitchen, hallway, small office—madly looking for signs of someone else living there. A woman’s shoes. A second coat. Anything. But the place felt lived-in by one person only.
In the living room, Sergei spun around. “You don’t fucking follow directions, do you?”
Adrik’s chest tightened. “Why did you tell my mother you never wanted to see me?” His voice cracked despite his best efforts. Between the cold and the emotional hit, he felt like hewas being pulled apart from the inside. The man he’d admired—worshipped, if he was honest—looked like he regretted opening the door.
“Sit,” Sergei ordered, pointing at a recliner.
Adrik sat. Sergei grabbed a crocheted blanket from the couch—something homemade, something soft—and draped it over him before hitting the button to lift his feet. The gesture was so familiar it hurt.
Sergei didn’t answer his question. Instead, he went to the bar cart and poured two double vodkas, the ice clinking sharply in the glasses. He handed one to Adrik but stayed standing, looming over him like a bodyguard on duty.
“That’s right,” Sergei said finally. “I didn’t want to see you again. And here you are. Did you forget the Run Rules? No contact with anyone. That includes me.”
“Fuck you, Sergei,” Adrik snapped. “You owe me an explanation. Not some bullshit about Run Rules. That didn’t stop my mother from finding me, did it?”
Sergei’s jaw tightened. “It’s complicated. Very complicated. I love you on so many levels. But you and I can’t be together the way you wanted—and the way I wanted too.”
Adrik’s breath caught. “Why? I deserve that much.”
“Your father is one reason,” Sergei said. “I made a promise to him when he hired me—not to show my gay side to you.”
Adrik stared at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? He put a hit on you. That promise should be long gone.”
