"You don't know that."
"I know him better than you do." She squeezes my hand. "Please. Let me try. And then... then maybe we can figure out if there's a way forward for us. Something that could actually be... real."
The word hangs between us.Real.Like what we have now isn't real, isn't enough. Like there's something more we could build if we just had the chance.
I should tell her that the risk is too great, that I won't put my life in Alexander Baumann's hands again, that this is a fantasy that will only end in disappointment or death. But I look at her, naked and vulnerable, and so fucking brave to try again, and I can't make myself say the words.
Maybe she's right. Maybe there is a way forward that doesn't involve endless war and bloodshed.
"I'll think about it," I finally say. It's not a yes, but it's not a no either. And from the way her face lights up, I can tell she knows that's the best she's going to get right now.
She leans forward and kisses me softly, like she's trying to show me whatrealcould feel like. And God help me, I want it.
I want her. I want this. I want the impossible future she's offering, even though I know it will probably destroy us both.
I pull her back down onto the bed, wrap my arms around her, and hold her close. She settles against my chest, her breathing gradually evening out as exhaustion takes over. I don't sleep, though. My mind is too busy calculating risks, weighing options, trying to figure out if there's any scenario where bringing Alexander Baumann to this safe house doesn't end in disaster.
But even as I run through the possibilities, I know I'm going to do it. Because she asked me to. And I want to be the kindof man who can give her hope instead of just taking everything from her.
Even if it's the last thing I do.
Her breathing deepens, and I know she's asleep. I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"You're going to be the death of me,ptitsa."
21
LIESL
Two days later, I'm dealing with another attack on one of our warehouses when a call from Viktor comes through.
I'm standing over a man who used to work for the Volkov family—used to, because after tonight he won't be working for anyone—when my phone vibrates in my pocket. The man is tied to a chair, his face already swelling from the questions I've been asking. He's been giving me information about the coordination between Alexander Baumann and my enemies.
I pull out the phone, see Viktor's name, and answer immediately. "What."
"The safe house is under attack." His voice is tight with urgency. "At least a dozen. Maybe more. They came prepared,pakhan. This wasn't opportunistic. They knew exactly where to hit."
Liesl.She's there. Alone except for the guards I left to protect her. The thought sends ice through my veins, followed immediately by white-hot rage. I look at the man in the chair, at the blood dripping from his split lip, and make a decision.
"I'm coming," I tell Viktor. "Hold the perimeter. Don't let anyone through."
"We're trying, but?—"
"Hold it." I end the call and turn to the two men standing behind me. "Finish this. Make it quick. Then clean up and get back to the estate."
They nod, understanding what I'm not saying. The man in the chair starts to protest, starts to beg, but I'm already walking away. His voice cuts off with a wet, choking sound as one of my men steps forward with a knife.
I don't look back.
The drive to the safe house is too far for my comfort. I push the car hard through dark roads, my mind racing faster than the engine. Viktor's words loop through my head:They knew exactly where to hit.
Someone talked. Someone in my organization gave up the location. Or Alexander Baumann has better intelligence than I thought. Either option is unacceptable. But right now, the only thing that matters is getting to her.
I'm still wearing the clothes from the warehouse interrogation—dark shirt, dark pants, both spattered with blood that isn't mine. My knuckles are split and raw. There's blood under my fingernails and blood on my hands that I haven't had time to wash away. I look like exactly what I am: a man who deals in violence.
And I'm about to deal in more of it.
The safe house comes into view through the trees, and I can see immediately that Viktor wasn't exaggerating. Muzzle flashes light up the darkness, concentrated around three different points of the perimeter. The attackers are trying to breach from multiple angles simultaneously, forcing my men to spread thin to cover all approaches. It's a smart strategy, and it's coordination that takes planning and resources.
