Wyatt’s dangerous. Hell, all of this is dangerous. But regardless of how trapped I should feel, another part of me is more awake than it ever has been.
That terrifies me most of all.
Chapter 7 - Wyatt
When the lock clicks, soft and final, the sound carries down the hall. Then, and only then, I let my body give in, and I stop moving.
Everything catches up with me at once as I brace a hand against the wall and let my head drop. I pull in deep, slow breaths through my nose, trying to force my thoughts back into place. But everything in my head feels like a mess.
The condo’s silent now, but it’s heavier than it is calming.
My pulse is still too fast, and my shoulders are pinched tight enough to brace for another ambush. But there isn’t one. I’ve had my fair share of unwanted excitement tonight.
No matter what she thinks of me, Elena is safe and secure in the spare room. She’s alive and furious, but the first part is the most important.
I married her.
The notion sinks in fully now, undeniable and crushing. It was 100% my decision, yet it still turns my stomach to consider it now, after the fact.
She isn’t the problem. My instinct to protect her isn’t either. The problem lies in what it means to be married to a Lukov, and all the unavoidableshitthat will come with it.
Pushing off the wall, I reach the living room and pace the length of it, running a hand through my hair hard enough to piss myself off even more. The adrenaline has started to fade, leaving behind the kind of exhaustion I dread most. It’s the kind that stalls progress.
But it’s entirely my fault. Well, partially Vito’s for even bringing her to my attention, but still.
I got ahead of myself, and that’s the truth of it. I let the urge to take revenge get ahead of me, and my confidence took the wheel to a dangerous degree.
Vito was supposed to die tonight. That had been my one goal. I wanted him afraid in those final moments, and I wanted to take from him what he tried to take from me. But when he offered me Elena, I didn’t think. I reacted, and I bit off more than I ever should’ve attempted to chew. Just like I did years ago.
Instead of slowing down and reassessing when I realized the Grimaldis were after her, I doubled down. I went nuclear without stopping to consider the fallout.
I tied her to me. I married a goddamn Lukov.
Scoffing, I drop myself onto one of the sofas, leaning against the backrest while I close my eyes and finally give my body a break.
I spent years erasing my name, my past, and any paper trail I had. I became a ghost on purpose, and tried to linger as nothing more than a rumor, and a problem nobody could pin down long enough to kill.
And in one night, I managed to risk it all.
The very name rams against my skull again and again, while the irony feels like it should be funny, if it weren’t so potentially catastrophic.
Despite trying to blend into the background, I’ve managed to throw myself in the middle of the ring, with the biggest target imaginable on my back.
The Lukovs will see this as a hostile, aggressive move, and even potential humiliation if they can’t control the narrative soon enough. The Balakins, who still think I’m dead, willquestion who took Elena out of the equation, and will want my head if they realize I’m indeed alive. The Grimaldis gave me a show of force when they tried to take her, and since they already hate me, they’ll use this as an excuse to take me down. They’ll be furious that I took her, and murderous when they realize I’ve married her.
I might as well stand in the middle of the Strip and start waving my arms to get their attention.
This is pressure I didn’t want, and certainly didn’t plan for. I wanted leverage and the chance to do something right, not raw exposure.
And yet, with my eyes closed, I keep seeing that image of Elena bound to the damn chair in that warehouse. I want to be heartless about it, but the fear and fury in her eyes stop me in my tracks.
Lily looked like that once…I’m sure of it.
While trapped in a different room, surrounded by different men, all while feeling the same helpless rage. That’s what pushed me over the edge. Not strategy, and not calculation. Just instinct.
I know I may seem no different from Vito in Elena’s eyes, but thinking about Lily makes me want to be better. To give Elena the care she deserves—the care my sister deserves.
It’s the same instinct that got me in trouble all those years ago, and the same trouble I’m still trying to make up for. It feels like a never-ending cycle at this point, and I can’t keep letting it haunt me.
