“She is under my protection,” I growl. “I will not apologize for doing what is necessary.”
His fist connects with my jaw. It’s clumsy, but fueled by fear and fury. I taste blood. The impact snaps my head to the side, and something in me finally breaks free.
I hit him back.
We collide like animals, fists and shoulders and old grievances exploding into motion. He drives me into the wall, breath harsh, teeth bared, and I hook my arm around his neck, wrenching him down. We grapple, years of loyalty and resentment tangling us together. We both know exactly how to hurt each other, but hold back because there is something older and deeper between us that restrains us.
“You promised me,” he snarls, trying to break free. “You said you would not touch her.”
“I did not,” I snap. “And that restraint may be the death of me.”
We crash into a sideboard, wood splintering, dishes shattering across the floor. My forearm presses into his throat, not enough to crush, but enough to dominate. His breath hitches, eyes locked on mine.
For a moment, I see us as we were.
Two boys in Prague, half-starved and sharp-edged, surviving on instinct and stubbornness.
I remember the alley where we met, narrow and foul-smelling, my hand closing around my suddenly lighter coat. I had dragged him back by the collar, furious and ready to teach him a lesson. He’d been grinning even then, bright-eyed and reckless, fingers already testing the weight of my watch while I was threatening him.
We fought like feral dogs, with fists, knees, and curses, until we were both bleeding and laughing. Backs against brick, sharing a cigarette stolen from a man who never saw us coming. That was the day I decided he was mine. Brother, soldier, confidant. Ride-or-die before either of us had words for it.
The memory cuts deep.
I release him abruptly and step back.
We stand there, chest to chest, breathing hard, the room wrecked around us. Liev drags a hand through his hair and lets out a rough laugh that cracks something open.
“Christ,” he mutters. “Just like Prague.”
I say nothing. My jaw throbs. I welcome the pain.
We finally sit, exhaustion settling over us like ash. The staff will clean the mess without comment. They always do.
Liev stares at the photograph again,hisexpression softening into something raw and afraid. “I left her once,” he says quietly. “I thought distance would keep her alive. Her grandfather made threats. Real ones. He said if I didn’t disappear, they would suffer.”
I know some of this, but we’ve never spoken of it. What I did know, I learned from men I paid to find out. I sit perfectly still, waiting to see where this takes him; where it takes us.
His voice breaks. “I chose to leave, and now she looks at me like I chose myself.”
The jealousy that flares is sharp and unwelcome. Not because he is wrong, but because he still has a claim I can never openly challenge.
“I will not let anyone take her,” I say. “Not Hinto. Not this life. But this, Liev,” I bite out, jamming a finger down onto the magazine, “this is what makes them think it’s real; this is what will keep her safe. Even if you don’t like it.”
“And you?” he asks. “Will you take her?”
The question hangs between us, dangerous and loaded.
“You know the kind of man I am,” I answer carefully. I wonder which version of me Liev, my best friend, has chosen to believe in over the decades: that I ruthlessly take whatever I want? Or at the end of the day, I’ll do what’s right, no matter who has to die?
He studies me for a long time, then nods once. “I trust you. But don’t lose her, Kaz; I already almost lost her once, and I won’t survive it again.”
Don’t lose her.I know what he means; don’t lose her to Hinto, don’t let her be killed. But something in my gut twists, something instinctual. It’s the snake that writhed to life the first time I set eyes on Alyona, and Iwantedher.
When he leaves, everyone at the estate exhales.
I stand by the window, watching the light shift over the grounds; Alyona’s smile from the photograph is burned into my mind. I have crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.
I am no longer pretending this is only strategy.
