One easy, brutal motion—like I’m weightless.
I sag against him, my head falling into the curve of his neck. I can feel the tension vibrating under his skin, the raw fury barely contained.
Not at me.
At them.
At himself.
I’m sorry, I think, but I can’t make the words.
His arms tighten around me like a vise.
“Get the car ready!” he barks over his shoulder. His voice is a whip crack.
His men scatter, moving fast, clearing the path.
Konstantin doesn’t even look back. He carries me like I’m something precious and broken, and the world around us can burn for all he cares.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on.
The memory of my mother’s words echoes through the pain: Find someone who makes you feel safe enough to be exactly who you are. Who protects what matters to you because it matters to you.
As Konstantin’s heartbeat thunders against my cheek—steady, certain, alive—I wonder if this is what she meant.
If only I’d trusted him sooner.
49
Konstantin
It’s nearly two in the morning when I enter the hospital wing in my home.
The corridor stretches before me—sterile, white, and humming under too much light. A sharp contrast to the dark thoughts circling my mind like vultures.
Three days. Three fucking days of hell—tracking pieces of this betrayal while she fights for every breath.
I pass my father’s room. A nurse walks out, chart in hand. Through the open doorway, I catch the old man’s chest rising and falling steadily in the dim light.
He’s getting better. Managed to join the children for dinner tonight. Alya was practically vibrating with excitement, bragging about her new backpack with its five zippers—fight-me pink,she called it.
The memory should bring comfort.
It doesn’t. It twists the knife deeper. While my family rebuilds… Bella lies broken because of me.
I move past the nurses’ station.
A nurse nods respectfully, eyes lowering fast. Smart. I’m not fit for conversation tonight. Not after what Arseny uncovered.
Azimut Holdings.
The shell company three layers deep behind the silver Lexus SUV Irina took off in. On paper? A logistics firm in Cyprus. In reality? Tatiana’s leash. My stepmother’s fingerprints are all over it—working with Irina, conspiring to use Bella as leverage in a war they can’t even begin to understand.
We’re close now. Timur got an address out of one of the thugs before he bled out. Regrettable. Necessary. Frankly, merciful compared to what I had planned.
I stop outside Bella’s door, letting the rage pool and settle like lead in my gut. When I open this door, I have to be in control.
She deserves that much.
