Out late.
Where the fuck is she?
My fingers tighten around the mug. If she’s on a date with some muscle-boundpridurokwho thinks he has a chance—
I force myself to breathe. She’s probably with Timur and Sophia. She goes there for dinner sometimes. Perfectly innocent.
Except it’s 11 PM. Too late for a casual dinner.
I check my watch. Then the window again.
Nothing.
The coffee tastes like ash now. I set the mug aside, unable to shake the unease crawling up my spine.
Finally—movement.
The front door opens. A shadow stretches across the floor.
I lean forward, tension coiling in my shoulders. If somepizdathinks he’s walking her to her door, putting his hands on her—
But it’s just Lauren. She’s carrying Hannah, the little girl’s head lolled back in sleep against her mother’s shoulder.
Relief loosens something in my chest.
Then I see it.
Another shadow.
It moves wrong—independent of Lauren’s movements, sliding across the floor at an angle that doesn’t match. The shape is all wrong. Too large. Too deliberate.
My blood turns to ice.
Someone else is in that apartment.
And from the way Lauren’s moving—casual, unaware—she doesn’t know.
“Blyad!”
I’m already moving. Keys grabbed from the bowl. Door yanked open.
No time to think about consequences.
No time for anything except getting to them before it’s too late.
Chapter Six
Lauren
I thrash against the man’s grip, trying to twist free, but it’s useless.
I’m completely outmatched. He’s massive—easily three times my size—and he knows exactly how to immobilize someone. This isn’t some random burglar. This is a professional.
Did Ronan Aslanov send him?
Why?
There’s no time to think about that. Hannah’s screams pierce through me, her tiny hands clawing at my shirt as she buries her face against my chest. I can feel her whole body shaking.
