“Don’t apologize. Your tears are gutting me deeply enough already.” The words came out bitter. “Even if you’re making the wrong choice.”
She pulled back, looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “What if there is no right choice? What if every option ends badly?”
“Then we pick the option that keeps you alive.” I wiped tears from her cheeks with my thumb. “Everything else is negotiable.”
Something in her expression shifted—resolve hardening beneath the grief. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“When the truth comes out—and it will, eventually—I need you to remember that I was trying to protect everyone. Not just myself. Not just the person I’m…” She trailed off. “Just remember that my intentions were good, even if my choices were questionable.”
The words sent ice down my spine. “Mila, who are you protecting?”
“Promise me first.”
I studied her face, seeing the determination beneath the fear. Whatever secret she was keeping, it was big enough to make her risk everything. Big enough to put herself between me and someone I’d presumably want dead.
“I promise I’ll remember your intentions,” I said carefully. “But I can’t promise I’ll forgive the consequences.”
“Fair enough.” She gave me a sad smile. “That’s all I can ask for.”
She kissed me then, soft and sweet and tasting of salt. I kissed her back, trying to memorize the moment—the warmth ofher body against mine, the gentle swell of our child between us, the way she fit perfectly in my arms despite everything trying to tear us apart.
When we finally broke apart, she led me to the bed. She straddled me, and we made love slowly, carefully, with a tenderness that felt like both a promise and a goodbye. Her hands mapped my body like she was trying to memorize it. I worshipped every inch of her skin, branded her with kisses, and whispered words that might have been prayers or threats.
Afterward, she curled against my side, one hand on my chest, the other on her belly. I felt the moment she fell asleep, her breathing evened out, her body finally relaxing.
But I couldn’t sleep.
I stared at the ceiling while snow continued to fall outside, my mind running through scenarios and possibilities. If someone was trying to reach her, they’d already found a way in.
Outside, the snow fell more heavily, burying the estate beneath layers of white. Inside, I held my wife and prepared for war.
I don’t forgive trespass.
Chapter Fifteen
Mila’s POV
I woke to the sound of a storm inside the house. Not the literal wind howling against the reinforced glass of our bedroom windows, but the sound of Alexei. His voice, usually a low, melodic rumble that could soothe me into a false sense of security, was a serrated blade. He was barking orders, the kind of sharp, rhythmic commands that sent the guards into a frenzy of synchronized movement.
Something had happened. Something catastrophic.
I didn’t reach for a robe. I didn’t care that the air in the hallway was biting, or that my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I followed the sound of the chaos, my bare feet silent on the cold marble.
When I reached the top of the grand staircase, I stopped. Down in the foyer, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and impending violence. Dimitri stood near the center of the room, his face an unreadable mask of stone, a thick manila file clutched in his hand like a weapon. Roman was there, too, leaning against the far wall. His usual smirk—the one that made him look like he was constantly sharing a private joke with the devil—was gone. He looked grim, just like Dimitri.
“The Italians,” Dimitri’s voice carried up the stairs, heavy with dread. “They’ve been sitting on it for weeks. They were waiting for the right moment to squeeze us.”
“And the message?” Alexei’s voice was a low growl, vibrating with a lethal energy that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“Intercepted an hour ago,” Roman replied, his voice flat. “They know, Alexei. They know the old man is alive.”
In that moment, the world tilted. The floor beneath my feet seemed to dissolve into a dark, bottomless abyss. My father.They knew about my father. The secret I had guarded like a dying ember, the one thing I thought I could keep hidden from the world of monsters I now inhabited, had been dragged into the light.
I didn’t realize I’d moved until I was standing at the edge of the landing, my fingers white-knuckled on the railing. Below me, Alexei froze. He didn’t look up at first. He just stood there, his broad shoulders tensed, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Then, he turned. His eyes weren’t the eyes of the man who had held me the night before. They were sharp as a surgical blade, cold and terrifyingly focused. He didn’t say a word to the others. As I backed away, I saw Dimitri and Roman vanish into the shadows of the lower hall, leaving me alone to face the whirlwind.
