Cyril appears at his elbow, speaking rapidly in Russian. I catch one word repeated like a curse, spat out with venom that needs no translation.Ignatyev. Matvey Ignatyev. The rival Pakhan who's been circling like a shark since Nikolai returned from the island.
I watch Nikolai's jaw tighten, watch his expression shift from cold efficiency to something that looks like barely controlled rage. The transformation is terrifying. This isn't the man who whispered Russian endearments against my skin. This is the Pakhan in full force, the killer who built an empire on calculated brutality.
He turns toward the car, and our eyes lock through the tinted glass.
Even from this distance, even through the barrier between us, the intensity of his gaze steals my breath. There's fury there, yes, but also something else. Something possessive and protectivethat makes my skin flush with unwanted heat. He's checking on me. Making sure I'm safe. Making sure his child is safe.
The realization should comfort me. Instead, it makes panic claw at my throat.
Because I see it now with crystalline clarity. This is my life. This violence, this danger, this world where men die on concrete and the father of my child orchestrates death with the same casual efficiency he used to catch fish in the shallows. There's no escaping it. No pretending I can keep one foot in normalcy while the other is planted firmly in his empire.
My child will grow up in this. Will learn to recognize the sound of gunfire before they learn to read. Will understand that Daddy's business involves things we don't talk about at dinner. Will carry the weight of the Alekseev name like armor and target both.
The thought makes something crack open in my chest, sharp and painful.
I need to leave. Need to take this baby and disappear so completely that even Nikolai's considerable resources won't find us. Change my name, move to another state, build a life where my child doesn't have to duck below window lines while their father conducts business. It's the only way to protect them from this world.
Nikolai starts walking toward the car, his stride purposeful despite the bodies he steps over. His eyes never leave mine, and I see the promise written in his expression. Retribution. Violence. The systematic destruction of everyone who dared threaten what's his.
My hand moves to the door handle, some irrational part of my brain screaming at me to run right now. But my guard's hand clamps down on my shoulder, holding me in place.
"Wait for the Pakhan."
Nikolai reaches the car and wrenches open the door, and the urge to run… somewhere, anywhere away from this life, is so strong that I almost bolt right then and there.
30
NIKOLAI
Iwrench open the car door, my hands already reaching for Aria. She's pressed against the seat, her body rigid with shock, and I need to touch her, need to confirm she's whole. My fingers move over her arms, her shoulders, checking for injuries my eyes might have missed in the chaos at the docks.
"I'm fine," she whispers, but her voice shakes.
She's not fine. Her dark eyes are too wide, her breathing too shallow, and I can see the tremor running through her hands as she tries to unbuckle her seatbelt. I do it for her, my movements gentle despite the adrenaline still screaming through my veins.
"Come here." I pull her against my chest, and she comes willingly, her face pressing into my neck. Her breath is warm against my skin, and I feel the rapid hammer of her heart matching my own. The scent of her hair fills my lungs, something floral mixed with the acrid smell of gunpowder that clings to us both.
She could have died tonight. The thought loops through my mind like a curse I can't shake. Matvey's men were at thosedocks because someone leaked our location. Someone in my organization betrayed me, and Aria could have paid the price.
The drive home passes in tense silence. My hand grips hers too tightly, my knuckles white against her smaller fingers, but I can't make myself let go. Every few seconds, my eyes flick to the rearview mirror, scanning for threats that might be following. My mind catalogs every captain who knew about tonight's meeting, every soldier who had access to my schedule, every possible leak in my security.
Someone will pay for this. Someone will bleed for putting her in danger.
When we finally pull through my gate, I help her out of the car with hands that want to shake but don't. Can't. The Pakhan doesn't show weakness, even when his woman nearly died because of his enemies.
His woman. The possessive thought should alarm me, but it doesn't.
Inside, I guide her upstairs to her bedroom, my hand at the small of her back. The moment the door closes behind us, something in her composure cracks.
"Is this my life now?" She whirls on me, her dark eyes blazing with fury that's more alive than the shock from before. "Violence just finding us wherever we go? Bullets flying while I'm trying to work?"
"Aria—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand, pacing across the room like a caged animal. "Don't tell me it's going to be fine. Don't tell me you'll protect me. You can't be everywhere, Nikolai. Whathappens when I'm alone? What happens when our child is born and someone decides to use them against you?"
The fear in her voice cuts deeper than any blade. I watch her pace, the curve of her body beneath the simple dress making my blood heat despite everything. Or maybe because of everything. The adrenaline still coursing through my veins is transforming, shifting from the cold focus of violence to something hotter, more primal.
She's alive. She's here. She's mine.
