For a second, he just looks at me. Like he’s absorbing the words instead of hearing them. Like they land somewhere deeper than the surface of this moment.
Then his arms come around me, pulling me in without hesitation. There’s nothing rushed in it. No urgency. Just certainty, like this is the one thing in the entire world that still makes sense, no matter what else is collapsing outside it.
I sink into him immediately.
His hand settles at the back of my head again, guiding me closer as he leans down.
The kiss is soft.
It’s like he’s trying to remind me, without words, that I’m still here. That he’s still here. That, for a few seconds, nothing else is allowed in.
His arm around me loosens slightly, but doesn’t let go. He keeps me close even after the kiss breaks, forehead resting briefly against mine as his breath steadies.
Then—
The world snaps.
A sound tears through the estate. Not just noise, but force. A violent, concussive blast that hits the walls like something alive and angry.
The windows shudder in their frames. Dust jumps from the ceiling edges. Somewhere deep in the mansion, alarms begin to scream into motion.
We break apart instantly.
My heartbeat spikes so fast it feels like it skips. I look at him at the exact same moment he looks at me. No confusion in his eyes. No guessing. Just immediate recognition.
Anton Petrov has arrived.
Not in theory. Not in intelligence reports. Not in predictions.
Here.
Now.
The war isn’t approaching anymore.
It’s inside the perimeter.
Chapter 26 – Timofey
The explosion outside the mansion throws the entire Rusnak estate into chaos. There’s no gradual shift. No warning phase. Just impact.
Glass rattles somewhere deeper in the house. Distant alarms begin to scream into life. Footsteps multiply in every direction as trained men move on instinct, not instruction.
I don’t think. I act.
My hand finds Valeria first—pulling her behind me without hesitation. Like muscle memory. She doesn’t resist. She knows better than to waste movement right now.
My other hand is already lifting the comms.
“Misha,” I say sharply.
He answers immediately. “I’m here.”
“Lock down the perimeter gates,” I order. My voice is steady. Too steady for what just happened. “No openings. No delays.”
A pause—then immediate confirmation. “Done.”
“Snipers to the roofline. Full coverage angles. I want visual control of every approach route.”
