"Are you really? Or is that what you're supposed to say?"
I took her hand and led her to the couch, settling us both onto the soft leather. Her eyes kept darting around the room, as if she expected armed guards to materialize from the shadows.
"I'm going to tell you as much as I can," I said carefully. "But there are things I can't explain. Things that are better for you not to know. Can you accept that?"
"That depends on what you tell me."
Fair enough.
I took a breath and began.
I told her about Rodion—not everything, but the shape of it. A client who became something more. A connection I hadn't expected, hadn't wanted, couldn't resist. I told her about my father's family finding me, about the danger I'd been in, about the marriage that had started as protection and become something real.
I didn't tell her about the violence. The deaths. The blood I'd seen spilled and the bodies I'd stepped over. Some truths were too heavy to share.
"So you're saying you married a man you barely knew to escape your family," Amber said slowly, processing. "And then you fell in love with him."
"I know how it sounds."
"It sounds insane."
"It was insane. It still is, some days." I touched my belly, feeling the baby shift. "But it's also the truest thing I've ever done. I spent my whole life running, Amber. Building walls, keeping people out, making sure no one could hurt me. And then Rodion walked into my office, and everything I thought I knew about myself stopped being true."
"That's very romantic. It's also terrifying."
"I know."
"Your father's family—the danger you mentioned—is that over?"
I hesitated. The truth was complicated. Cormac was dead. Branko was dead. But Milos Petrovic was still out there, still waiting, still a threat that hadn't materialized yet. Kirill sent updates every few weeks—intelligence reports, movement patterns, warnings about potential operations. So far, nothing concrete. But the threat was real, and it wasn't going away.
"It's managed," I said finally. "There are people who want to hurt us. But there are also people protecting us. It's... complicated."
"That's one word for it."
"It's the only word I have."
Amber was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching my face. I saw the war playing out behind them—the protective instinct that wanted to grab me and run, the rational mind thatwas trying to make sense of what I'd told her, the friend who wanted to trust that I knew what I was doing.
"Are you happy?" she asked finally.
The question caught me off guard, even though I should have expected it.
Was I happy?
I thought about Rodion. About the way he looked at me in the morning, soft with sleep and unguarded in a way he never was with anyone else. About the way he touched my belly every night before we fell asleep, talking to the baby in Russian, telling her stories I couldn't understand but loved anyway.
I thought about the life we'd built together. The dinners we cooked, the conversations we had, the silences that felt comfortable instead of empty. The way he'd held me after nightmares, the way I'd held him when the weight of his world became too heavy.
I thought about the fear, too. The knowledge that danger was always circling, that peace was temporary, that everything could shatter at any moment. That hadn't gone away. Probably never would.
But beneath the fear, something else had taken root. Something that looked a lot like hope.
"Yes," I said. "I'm happy."
"Really?"
"Really. It's not the life I planned. It's not the life I ever imagined wanting. But it's mine. And I'm happy in it."
