"Is there?"
"Yes." He was quiet for a moment, his pale eyes distant. "I've never seen you like this. With any woman. You're usually... controlled. Detached. This is different."
"I don't know what this is."
"That's obvious." He almost smiled. "But you should figure it out. Uncertainty is a vulnerability. And right now, you can't afford vulnerabilities."
He moved away before I could respond, already shifting back into tactical mode, speaking with Yegor about something I couldn't hear. I stood alone in the hallway and thought about what he'd said.
Uncertainty is a vulnerability.
He wasn't wrong. I didn't know what I felt for Keira—didn't know if what had happened between us was real or just the product of proximity and stress and the strange intimacy of our circumstances. I didn't know if she felt anything for me beyond confusion and obligation. I didn't know what I wanted from her, or what I was willing to risk to get it.
All I knew was that I couldn't stop thinking about her. And that was dangerous in ways I was only beginning to understand.
I found Kirill in the study twenty minutes later, reviewing security reports on a tablet. He looked up when I entered.
"Everything's in place," he said. "Yegor's men are solid. The building is secure. If the Petrovics try anything tonight, we'll know about it long before they reach us."
"Good."
"I'm going to get some rest. I have calls to make in the morning—people who might have information about Petrovic movements." He set down the tablet and stood. "You should rest too."
"I will."
"Liar." But there was no judgment in his voice. "Go talk to her, Rodion. Whatever happened between you—ignoring it won't make it go away."
He left before I could argue. I stood in the empty study and stared at the door he'd walked through, knowing he was right.
Ignoring it wouldn't make it go away.
I found her in the kitchen.
She was standing at the counter, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, staring out the window at the city lights. She'd changed clothes—something soft and loose, the kind of thing you wore when you weren't expecting to see anyone. Her hair was down, falling in waves around her shoulders.
She looked tired. Beautiful. Completely unreachable.
"I thought you were staying in your room," I said.
She didn't turn around. "I needed tea. I assumed that was allowed."
"Everything is allowed. This is your home now, too."
"Is it?"
I moved into the kitchen, keeping the island between us, giving her space.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Neither do you." She finally turned, and I saw the shadows under her eyes, the tension in her jaw. "Your brother is here."
"Kirill. Yes."
"He's... intense."
