I don’t do either.
I quietly turn and walk back into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.
Hannah is still asleep, curled on her side, one small hand tucked under her cheek.
I sink back into the mattress beside her, exhaustion settling into my bones.
Tomorrow we’re leaving for Chicago. Another disruption to the life I’ve worked so hard to build. But at least Nikolai will keep us safe. That much I can trust, even if I can’t trust anything else about him.
I force my muscles to relax, willing sleep to come.
What I want doesn’t matter right now. Four years is a long time. Everything has changed. And whatever Nikolai’s intentions, whatever pain he’s carrying, the fact remains: he brought this danger back into our lives.
He might be protecting us now, but he’s also the reason we need protection.
I have Hannah to think about. My beautiful, innocent daughter who doesn’t understand why a stranger broke into our home, why we’re sleeping in a cabin in the woods, why her entire world has been turned upside down in one night.
That’s all that matters. Keeping her safe. Getting through this.
And when it’s over—when Aslanov is dealt with and the danger passes—we’ll go back to Atlanta. Back to our routine, our life, our peace.
Without him.
We survived four years without Nikolai Rogov.
We can do it again.
Chapter Nine
Nikolai
Dawn breaks, pale light filtering through the grimy windows.
I keep my eyes on the front door. The sunrise is eerily beautiful—streaks of orange and pink cutting through the trees—but I can’t afford to appreciate it.
Aslanov could find us at any moment. One second of distraction is all it would take.
Lauren and Hannah are still asleep behind the bedroom door. I can hear Hannah’s soft breathing, the occasional rustle of covers.
Last night, Lauren stood in that doorway watching me. I saw it in her eyes—the war between what she remembers and what she’s trying to protect herself from. Familiarity flickering and dying in the same breath. She wanted to understand how this is real, how I’m here after four years of being gone.
I’ve imagined this reunion a thousand times. Sitting in my apartment across from theirs, coffee growing cold in my hands as I watched them through the window and let myself fantasize. I’d knock on her door. She’d open it. Recognition would flood her face, then relief, then joy. We’d fall into each other. Hannah would call me daddy. Everything would be right again.
Blyad.
This is nothing like I pictured.
Footsteps behind me. I turn as Lauren emerges from the bedroom, moving carefully, like she’s navigating unfamiliar territory.
“Morning,” I say. My voice comes out rough.
She nods slightly, arms wrapped around herself. She’s wearing the same sweatshirt from last night, fuzzy socks on her feet. “Is there water?”
I stand, floorboards creaking under my weight. The cabin is small, barely insulated, designed for function rather than comfort. What used to be a door between the kitchen and main room has rotted away, leaving just the frame.
“Kitchen’s through here.” I gesture for her to follow.
She hesitates before moving, staying close to the wall as she walks, keeping distance between us.
