"The Petrovics are dangerous. More dangerous than your uncle, more dangerous than your father ever was. If they get their hands on you—"
"I know what they do." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I've treated their victims. Women who escaped their trafficking operations. I know exactly what kind of people they are."
That hit me harder than I expected. She'd been helping survivors of Petrovic brutality, and she hadn't even known her own father was allied with them. The irony was almost too cruel to contemplate.
"Then you know running isn't an option. They have resources. Reach. They found you once, they'll find you again."
"So what do you suggest? I just hide in your tower forever?"
"No."
Kolya opened her door, but she didn't move. Just looked at me, waiting.
"I have a proposal," I said.
"What kind of proposal?"
I should have softened it. Should have built up to it gradually, given her time to process. But we didn't have time, and I'd never been good at gentle.
"Marry me."
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Excuse me?"
"If you're my wife, you're under my protection. Officially. Publicly. Anyone who touches you declares war on my entire family." I held her gaze. "The Irish can't claim you. The Petrovics can't have you. You'd be untouchable."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
"I'm not marrying you. I don't even know you."
"You know me better than most people do. You've spent three weeks inside my head."
"As your therapist. Not as your—" She shook her head. "This is insane. You're insane."
"Maybe. But I'm also your best option."
She was out of the car before I could stop her, stumbling on the concrete floor of the garage. I followed, keeping my distance, watching her process what I'd said.
"There has to be another way," she said. "Witness protection. FBI. Something."
"Your family has people inside law enforcement. So do the Petrovics. You'd be dead before the paperwork was filed."
"Then I'll run. I've done it before—"
"For twelve years, you managed to stay hidden. And they still found you." I stepped closer, and she didn't back away. "How long do you think you'd last now that they know you're alive? Now that they know what you look like, where you work, how you live?"
"I could change everything. Start over—"
"You'd spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Never staying anywhere long enough to build something real. Never trusting anyone. Never safe." I held her eyes. "Is that what you want?"
"What I want is to not be someone's property."
"You wouldn't be my property. You'd be my wife."
"Is there a difference?"
