But all I feel is exhausted.
The cycle of revenge that consumed our lives is finally over, and I’m just…tired.
“You planned this.” Mikhail’s voice is rough with emotion. “You knew he’d bring you here, so you set it up beforehand.”
“I had to end it.” I turn to face him, and the look in his eyes steals my breath. “I couldn’t let him keep hurting us. Keep taking people we love.”
His hands frame my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t realize were falling. “You could have died.”
“But I didn’t.” I cover his hands with mine. “We didn’t. It’s over, Mikhail. It’s finally over.”
He kisses me then, hard and desperate, pouring everything he can’t say into the press of his lips. I kiss him back with equal fervor, tasting smoke and blood and freedom.
When we finally break apart, Tony is watching us with an expression I can’t quite read. “We should go,” he says quietly. “Before the fire department arrives. Or the cops.”
The drive back to the mansion passes in a blur. I sit pressed against Mikhail’s side in the back of the SUV, his arm around my shoulders, my head on his chest.
His heart beats steady and strong beneath my ear, and I focus on that rhythm, letting it ground me.
We’re alive.
We survived.
And Lorenzo can never hurt us again.
The mansion feels different when we arrive.
Lighter somehow, as if the shadow that’s been hanging over it has finally lifted. Elena meets us at the door, her blue eyes wide with concern.
“Mr. Artyomov, Mrs. Artyomov, are you all right?”
“We’re fine, Elena.” Mikhail’s voice is gentle. “Please make sure everyone knows the threat is over. Lorenzo is dead.”
Relief floods her face. “Thank god. I’ll inform the staff.”
Mikhail leads me upstairs to our bedroom, his hand never leaving mine. Once the door closes behind us, he pulls me into his arms again, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispers into my hair. “When I saw him dragging you toward those flames, I thought…”
“I’m here.” I pull back to look at him, taking in the soot on his face, the cuts and bruises, the way his green eyes shine with unshed tears. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, savoring. His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer, and heat that has nothing to do with the warehouse fire ignites in my core.
“I need you,” he breathes against my lips. “Need to feel you alive and whole and mine.”
“Then take me.” I start unbuttoning his ruined shirt, my fingers trembling slightly. “Make me forget everything except this. Except us.”
We undress each other with urgent hands, leaving a trail of smoke-stained clothes across the floor. When we’re finally bare, Mikhail lifts me and carries me to the bed, laying me down with unexpected gentleness.
“You’re so beautiful.” His gaze travels over me, reverent and hungry. “So brave. So perfect.”
I reach for him, pulling him down to cover my body with his. The weight of him, the heat, the solid reality of his presence drives away the last lingering shadows of fear. We’re here. We’re alive. We’re together.
He enters me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, and I gasp at the sensation.
He’s finally come back to me, the man I had fallen in love with.
We move together in the firelight, our bodies finding a rhythm as old as time. His hands worship every inch of my skin, and I trace the scars on his back, memorizing the map of violence that made him who he is.
