Clouds drift lazily beneath us, faint shadows of mountains stretching toward the horizon. The Swiss Alps. Beautiful, impossible, and so far removed from the life I knew that it makes my stomach twist.
The view throws me off balance—it makes it hard to remember I’m supposed to be pissed off right now.
Fuck.
I can’t tell what time it is now, like everything else in Leonid’s little world. Like I don’t know how long we are going to be Leonid’s captives.
I glance at the bed again, at the lump that hasn’t moved since I woke up. He’s safe, at least. Warm. One of us should get some peace in this flying prison.
But then, from somewhere beyond the door, I hear it—a burst of giggles, light and unmistakable.
“Maksim! You cheat!”
My head snaps toward the sound.
What. The. Fuck?
I turn back to the bed. The lump under the covers doesn’t move, but now my chest tightens with doubt.
That’s not Elijah.
I yank back the covers. A fucking throw pillow. Of course.
The plush carpet floor is soft against my feet as I step into the main cabin. Whoever designed this Chanel sleepwear clearly never considered “kidnapped on a private jet” scenarios in their design planning. My nipples could cut glass right now.
“No, no—you gotta time the jump better!” Maksim’s voice carries through the cabin. “See that platform? Wait for it… wait… No, you’re jumping straight into lava—and now you’re dead again.”
I freeze in the doorway. Elijah is sitting next to Maksim, who has one arm slung casually around his little shoulders while showing him a game on a Nintendo Switch. Elijah’s face is scrunched in concentration, his fingers furiously tapping the buttons as Maksim narrates.
“Maksim, it’s too hard!” Elijah whines.
“Life’s hard, kid. Welcome to Level Three.”
And then there’s Leonid.
He’s sitting opposite them, one leg crossed over the other, radiating grumpiness so thick it’s almost visible. His jaw is clenched, his dark eyes fixed on the window as though he’s plotting to murder the clouds. Or maybe Maksim. Or maybe me.
“Elijah seems cozy,” I mutter as I approach, gesturing to the scene.
Leonid doesn’t look at me. “He’s fine,” he says flatly, his voice low and controlled.
Maksim grins up at me, all teeth and mischief. “You should join us,devushka.The kid’s a natural. Better reflexes than Leonid.”
“Better attitude, too,” I mutter, earning a sharp glare from Leonid. Maksim chuckles, clearly enjoying himself.
I sink into one of the leather chairs, the chill still biting at my legs. Elijah looks up from his game long enough to wave at me.
“Mommy, look! I’m beating him!”
Maksim raises his hands in mock defeat. “He’s ruthless, this one. Might take over the Bratva before his fifth birthday.”
Leonid’s jaw tightens even further, his hands clenching into fists on the armrests. I glance at him, half-expecting him to snap, but he doesn’t.
Something shifts in the cabin’s atmosphere. Literally. The jet dips slightly, making my stomach do that weird floating thing.
A crisp voice comes over the intercom, speaking rapid-fire Russian. Before I can even pretend to understand, Leonid cuts in: “We’re landing.”
“Thanks for the translation service,” I say, but he’s already moving, phone forgotten as he stands. His eyes rake over my barely covered body, and suddenly, I’m very aware of how much skin this sleepwear shows.
