The drive back to the compound takes thirty minutes, but it feels like hours.
My hands are steady on the wheel despite the blood drying under my fingernails.
I’ve cleaned most of it off, but there’s still a dark stain on my shirt cuff that I can’t quite scrub away.
The guards at the gate nod as I pass through. The house is quiet when I enter, most of the staff already retired for the evening. I head straight for our bedroom, needing to see Sophia, to remind myself why I do this.
She’s awake, sitting up in bed with her laptop balanced on her knees.
The soft lamplight catches in her black hair, and her blue eyes find mine immediately.
For a moment, she just looks at me, and I see the exact second she notices the blood.
“Mikhail.” My name is a question and an accusation all at once.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, suddenly unable to move closer. “It’s not mine.”
“I know.” She sets the laptop aside carefully, her hand moving to rest on the swell of her stomach.
“They were planning to kill me and divide my territory. I found out tonight.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes searching my face. “And now they’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“By your hand.”
“Yes.”
She closes her eyes, and I see her throat work as she swallows. When she opens them again, there are tears tracking down her cheeks.
“I’m protecting our family.” I push off from the door, moving closer. “Everything I do is to keep you and our baby safe.”
She says nothing, just watches me closely with those blue eyes.
“I don’t know how to protect our family without becoming a monster,” I whisper. “And I’m terrified that one day, you’ll look at me and see nothing but the blood on my hands.”
47
SOPHIA
I stare at the blood on Mikhail’s shirt cuff, the dark stain he couldn’t quite scrub away, and something inside me shifts.
For months, I’ve been fighting against his world, demanding he choose between his empire and our family.
But watching him break down, admitting he doesn’t know how to protect us without becoming a monster, it reaffirms the impossible position I’ve put him in.
“Mikhail.” I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “I’ve been wrong.”
His green eyes meet mine, wary and exhausted. “About what?”
“About thinking you could just stop being who you are.” I place his hand on my stomach, where our baby grows stronger each day. “I know I said earlier that you should do what you need to do, and I’m not changing that. But this violence? There has to be a better way. A smarter way.”
“Sophia—”
“You’re brilliant at tactics and intimidation,” I continue, my mind already racing with possibilities. “But you sometimes miss the psychological aspects. The human elements that could give you leverage without bloodshed.”
He studies my face, and I see the moment hope flickers in his expression. “What are you suggesting?”
