“I don’t need—” she started.
“I know.”He handed her the bag.“You don’t need anyone.”
Her cheeks burned, their kiss echoing.He turned to Tiana.“Bathroom, two minutes.We need to move.”
Tiana glanced at Keisha, wary.Keisha nodded, and she slipped out.Sergei stepped closer, voice low.“You’re not recovered.”
“I’m okay.”Her right hand shook.
“You’re not.”He eyed her fingers.“Another seizure could hit.”
He was right.Cluster seizures followed stress.
“I’m not staying.Tiana’s my responsibility.”
“And you’re mine.”His words carried weight, beyond protection.
Her breath caught, his declaration too much post-kiss, post-seizure.“I’m not yours, Sergei.”
“Yes, you are.”His hand rose, not touching.“Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.You care about Tiana more than yourself.And I know your taste when you kiss back.”
Heat rushed, intense.“That was a mistake,” she said, swallowing.
“The kiss or seizure?”His eyes flickered.
“Both.”She stepped back.“Tiana’s what matters.”
Tiana reappeared, face washed, fear sharp.Keisha moved to her, protective.“Back exit,” Sergei said.“Through the parlor, alley.Nadia’s got a car, blue sedan, dented fender.”
Keisha nodded, avoiding his gaze.“Let’s go.”
His hand caught her arm, gentle but firm.“Mikalai’s elite.A damn good tracker.Good as me.You and Tiana are high-value.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I need you to trust me, even if you don’t want to.”His fingers tightened.
Trust.
Impossible after Kieran, after the system.But Sergei had held her through her seizure, no disgust.Tiana shifted, anxious.“We going or what?”she asked, voice sharp.
Keisha pulled from Sergei.“Stay close to me,” she told Tiana.
“I’ll lead,” Sergei said, jaw tight.“Tiana, between us.If we have to split up, find Nadia’s car.”
His instructions underscored the danger.Keisha took Tiana’s hand, her own weak but firm.Sergei checked the phone, opening the door to the dark hall.“Ready?”
No.
Not for Mikalai, Tiana’s safety, or Sergei’s kiss still burning.But Tiana mattered.
“Ready,” she lied, following him into the dark.
