“Moving.”
“Armored vehicles to the driveway entrance,” I continue. “Block entry and exit points. I don’t care if it slows movement inside the estate—containment comes first.”
Another confirmation. Faster this time. Everyone understands the shift now.
“Inner security teams,” I add, already turning slightly toward the corridor, “fallback positions inside the main house. No one operates alone. Two-man minimum.”
“Yes, sir,” Misha responds.
I lower the comms for half a second, scanning the movement already unfolding beyond the windows. Shapesshifting. Shadows reorganizing into structure. The estate tightening itself into something harder than it was five minutes ago.
Within minutes, the Rusnak estate stops being a residence.
It becomes a fortress.
Controlled access points. Layered defense lines. Eyes on every angle.
I turn to Valeria.
Even in the middle of this, I see something steady in her eyes. Determination. She doesn’t break under pressure; she sharpens.
Something in my chest loosens despite everything happening outside these walls. And then I lose control for a second. I pull her in and kiss her.
It happens fast, instinctive, like my body refuses to accept the distance between us while everything else is burning toward confrontation.
She responds immediately.
No hesitation. No restraint. She meets me exactly where I am.
A sound slips from her into my mouth—soft, breathless—and it sends something sharp through me. My grip tightens instinctively before I even realize it. Heat spikes, raw and distracting in a moment that cannot afford distraction.
Fuck.
It takes everything in me to pull back. Only because I have to.
I break the kiss and hold her there for a second longer than I should, forehead almost brushing hers as I steady my breathing.
“Valeria,” I mutter, voice lower than I intend, “you will be the death of me.”
She lets out a short laugh, even now. Even here.
“Don’t talk about death right now,” she says.
That almost makes me smile. Almost.
I shake my head once, grounding myself back into the room, back into the noise outside the walls, back into what’s coming.
“No one is dying today,” I say firmly. Not as reassurance. As truth. “I don’t care what Anton does.”
My hand finds hers briefly.
“I will protect you,” I continue, voice hardening, “and our child. Nothing else gets through that.”
She nods once.
Then she lets out a quiet breath and says, “Let’s go.”
I move before I even think about it.
