When the car pulls into the garage at the penthouse, the engine cuts out. Ivan opens my door with a blank face, but his eyes meet mine for a second. It's a silent acknowledgement between two men who finally made it out of the trenches.
"Double the perimeter," I order. "No one enters this floor. Not the Council and not the captains. If Sokolov himself shows up, tell him to wait until morning. I'm done with the world for tonight."
"Understood,Pakhan," Ivan murmurs. He dips his head in a bow that feels like the final seal on my reign.
The penthouse is cavernous.
As the elevator doors slide shut and lock us on the top floor, the quiet hits me hard. I strip off my coat, which still smells like the Atlantic and gunpowder, and let it drop to the floor.
I don't care. The furniture and the marble are background noise. None of it matters if the woman in the center of the room is only there because I'm holding the leash.
Below us, the city is a grid of lights. Every flickering bulb represents a life that now answers to me. It's a beautiful sight, but my back is turned to it. My kingdom is behind me, standing in the middle of the room.
"It looks different today, doesn't it?"
Helena’s voice is soft, but it cuts right through the room. She's stepped out of her red coat. She stands there in a black silk dress that clings to her, with her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.
"It looks like a beginning," I reply, turning to face her. "And an end."
I walk to the safe hidden behind the wood paneling. My thumbprint opens the door. I pull out the thick envelope, the Blackwood file. It was my primary leash. Inside are the debt ledgers, the photos, and the Atlantic Loop manifest with her signature, everything I used to trap her. All the filth I used to make sure she could never run.
I walk over to her, the paper heavy in my hand.
"You saw them bow today," I say. "You heard Sokolov. The Italians are wiped out. The shipping route is mine. My power is undeniable. I have everything I ever promised to take."
I hold the envelope out to her.
"This is the last thing that makes you a prisoner. Inside this folder is every lie and every debt I used to break you. It's everything I used to force you into this house."
She doesn't reach for it. Her breath hitches while she searches my eyes.
"There are no more threats," I continue, stepping into her space until I can feel the heat from her skin. "Moretti is dead. Your father’s sins are buried with him. If you take this and walk to that elevator, Ivan will drive you wherever you want to go. You can be free of the blood and free of me. I won't follow you. I won't hunt you. I'm giving you back the life I stole."
The silence stretches between us. I'm giving her the one thing I never thought I’d be strong enough to offer—a choice. My heart feels like it's being squeezed. I'm a possessive man, and every instinct I have tells me to burn the papers and lock the door.
But I don't want a captive. I want a Queen.
"Take it, Helena," I say, my voice breaking slightly. "Take your freedom."
She looks at the envelope, then up at me. Her eyes are burning. She doesn't reach for the paper. Instead, she reaches for my face and rests her palms against my jaw, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones.
"You think I'm still waiting for a way out?" she whispers. "Konstantin, the girl you took from my father’s house is dead. She didn't survive the first night you brought me here. The woman standing here today isn't staying because of some files in a safe. Those papers haven't been keeping me here for a long time."
She takes a step closer, her eyes locking onto mine.
"I stayed because I watched you break this city to keep me. When I stood on those docks and felt the world bow to us, I realized I didn't want to be anywhere else. I don't want the life I had before. I want this. I want you."
She takes the envelope from my hand. She doesn't even open it. She walks to the fireplace, tosses it in, and watches as the paper curls and turns to ash.
"I'm not your captive anymore," she says, turning back to me. "I'm your choice. And I'm as ruined as you are."
The distance between us disappears in two strides.
There’s no violence in the movement, none of the ruthless force of a Pakhan. Instead, my hands reach for her the way a man reaches for home.
She’s pulled into my arms, and my face finds the curve of her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her skin.
"I was going to let you go," I murmur against her. "I was going to let you walk out that door even if it killed me. I can't keep you like this anymore. Not as a debt. Never again."
