Around us, the estate still burns with chaos.
“I was so scared,” I murmur against her hair, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Then I pull back. Just enough to see her face. Just enough to ground myself again.
“Talk to me,” I say immediately, scanning her, checking for injuries, for anything I might’ve missed in the rush. “What’s happening here?”
Valeria doesn’t hesitate. Not even a second.
“These are my father’s old allies,” she says.
My brows tighten slightly.
“They heard Anton brought me back to Moscow,” she continues, voice steady now—stronger than it has any right to be in the middle of this chaos. “They regrouped…and attacked. To save me.”
There’s something in her tone I don’t miss.
Pride.
Awe.
Like something she thought was gone is suddenly standing back up.
She looks at me then—really looks at me—and a faint smile touches her lips despite everything burning around us.
“The battle isn’t over, Timofey,” she says quietly. “Let’s fight together.”
A beat.
Then I nod.
“Stay close,” I say.
She doesn’t argue.
We turn together and move.
Back into the war.
The moment we hit the stairs, everything becomes motion again. Sound crashes back in—gunfire snapping through marble halls, boots pounding somewhere below, orders shouted and lost in smoke.
“Left corridor!” Misha’s voice cuts through the comms. “Multiple hostiles pushing east wing!”
Valeria stays tight at my side. We descend fast.
First contact hits halfway down the stairs.
Two men rush up.
I fire once. Clean. Controlled. One drops instantly. The second turns toward Valeria—
She shoots before I even shift.
Headshot.
He falls down the steps without a sound.
We hit the lower landing, and the corridor opens into chaos. Smoke hanging low. Broken glass everywhere. Gunfire echoing off the walls.
