There’s nothing else. No world outside this bed. No war. No pain. No fear.
Only Maksim and the frantic thud of our heartbeats colliding in the space between our bodies. Only the sound of his breath going ragged as he buries his face in the crook of my neck and grinds into me one last time, deeper than ever, like he’s trying to push past bone and muscle in order to melt into me completely.
“Zvezda moya,” he rasps into my ear, voice fraying at the edges. “Moya zvezda…You feel so fucking good. You always have.”
I cling to him, nails dragging down his back as I pull him closer, needing more even though I’m already unraveling all over again.
His entire body jolts when his orgasm hits.
A raw, guttural groan tears from his chest as he plunges deep one final time and stays there, rooted inside me like he can’t bear to pull out. I feel him pulse, feel the heat of him spilling into me, thick and possessive.
His breath is ragged against my neck. His hips twitch with the aftershocks, small involuntary thrusts that grind the oversensitive head of his cock deeper against my sore walls. A whimper escapes me, but I don’t pull away. Ican’t. I’m too drunk on the closeness, on the feel of him collapsing into me.
When he lifts his head again, his hands find my face. He cups my jaw, treating me like I’m some breakable preciousthing. He stares at me for a long moment like he’s trying to make sure I’m really here beneath him, really there.
“Moya zvezda, moya zhizn’,” he whispers against my lips.
We lie tangled, bodies fused, the silence between us thick with something that feels like surrender and maybe something dangerously close to love again.
7
MAKSIM
Iclose the room door behind me, careful not to let it click too loudly.
Ivy passed out not long after I pulled out of her, her breath soft and even pulls that nearly had lulled me to sleep right alongside her. Her fingers had still been curled in the sheets, even as she drifted off, almost like she had been bracing herself to be ripped from the bed at any moment, half-expected to be dragged away in the middle of the night by Mikhail’s men.
Even now, after all my promises, she still doesn’t feel safe.
The sight of her lying there stirred something feral in me. Something that hadn’t calmed even after I made love to her like a man possessed. I wanted to take that fear from her, to burn it out of her bones. But I couldn’t, not fully. Not until Mikhail isgone. Not until Leo is back in her arms, whole and unharmed.
It angers me to no end that even tucked away inside this safehouse with our walls reinforced and escape plans inplace,hestill lives in her head. That bastard’s shadow clings to her like smoke. Every twitch in her sleep, every small whimper she makes, it’s all soaked in fear.
And that is something I simply cannot forgive.
I leave her sleeping, brushing a final kiss against her forehead, before slipping quietly out of the room and heading down the narrow corridor to the small suite we’ve converted into a temporary command post.
Inside, the atmosphere shifts immediately.
The lighting is dim, blue from laptop screens and LED lights hovering over the table with the grid of the entire city. Matvey is seated at the far end of the table, his eyes on a monitor cycling through security feeds. Katya’s legs are pulled up into her chair, a tablet balanced on her knees as her fingers flick through dossiers. Roman is leaning over the blueprint of Emily Kreslova’s apartment complex. And Andrey has a pair of binoculars held up to his eyes while watching the streets down below us.
As soon as I enter, the heads turn.
“I assume Roman was able to fill you all in on what happened at Emily Kreslova’s apartment?” I ask.
Roman answers first, his tone clipped. “I did. So far, there’s been no more activity since we left there. After you left, I gave her our contact information and told her to call us once Mikhail made another appearance. She still seemed incredibly shaken up, but so far, it doesn't seem like she’s changed her mind on cooperating with us.”
“Nothing on Leo?” I glance at Matvey.
His jaw tightens. “Not yet. I pulled the traffic camera logs from the last forty-eight hours where Ivy was pinged. I’m looking into following the van that dropped her off and backtracking it to where it originated from. If we can get a lead on that, we should be able to find out where Mikhail is hiding. Or at least keeping his men while here in the city.”
“Or the kid,” Katya adds grimly from her corner.
Matvey nods once, barely looking up. “Exactly. It’s not ideal, but it’s our best shot right now. The license plates were swapped with fakes, but the frame and wear marks match a delivery van that popped up about eight blocks from Ivy’s location the night before. If we can find that exact make and match it to earlier traffic footage, we might be able to plot a rough route and pinpoint where they were keeping her.”
I nod slowly, jaw tight.
It’s not the breakthrough I was hoping for, but it’s better than the alternative—Leo showing up dead.
