For a second, I expect something to break. Expect him to pull away. To question it. To calculate it like everything else in his world.
But he doesn’t.
Not even for a moment.
Instead, he exhales like something inside him has been waiting to hear exactly that.
And then he stands—carefully, still mindful of his injured arm—and pulls me into him.
I freeze for half a heartbeat.
Then I melt.
My hands grip the fabric of his shirt as he wraps his arms around me, holding me close like I might disappear if he lets go too soon.
“I know,” he says against my hair. “I love you, too.”
Simple. Certain.
Like it was never in question.
My breath catches.
And I hold him tighter.
Chapter 18 – Timofey
“Where are you?” Mike asks the moment I pick up the call.
I lean back in my chair, dragging a hand down my face. My eyes ache from staring at screens for too long, but stopping isn’t really an option right now.
“Home,” I say.
There’s a pause. Then—
“Come over. We need to talk about Anton.”
My jaw tightens slightly. “Now?”
“Now.”
I exhale slowly, already knowing I don’t have the luxury of refusing.
“Give me thirty minutes,” I mutter.
“Make it twenty.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone and sit there for a moment longer, still. Thinking. Calculating. Reorganizing everything I already know in my head.
Anton doesn’t move without intention. And Mike doesn’t call like this unless something has shifted.
I push myself up from the chair.
“On my way,” I say quietly.
Several days have passed since the ambush on our way back from the beach house. Things are quiet—but I know better than to trust silence. Anton isn’t quiet. He’s calculating. Waiting.
