Men step out.
Armed.
Moving toward us.
Fast.
“Fuck,” Timofey mutters, already moving.
He throws himself over me, shielding me with his body as the first gunshots crack through the air.
I gasp, instinctively pushing against him.
“Timofey—”
“Stay down.”
“No!” I snap, adrenaline surging through me. “I can protect myself. We have to fight, or they’ll take us!”
He’s already reaching for his gun.
Outside, the men advance.
Weapons raised.
No hesitation.
No warning.
I turn to him, my voice sharp. “Give me a gun.”
His jaw tightens.
“You stay in the car,” he says, cold and final. “You’re protected here. I’ll handle it.”
My chest tightens violently. “No.”
His gaze snaps to mine.
“I’m not losing you,” I say, my voice shaking but firm. “If we both fight, our chances increase.”
“Valeria—”
“I will step out there,” I cut him off, my eyes locking onto his. “With or without a weapon.”
The words hang between us.
Dangerous.
Real.
His glare hardens.
For a second, I think he’ll refuse.
Then—
He exhales sharply and reaches into his jacket.
