There’s no sharp edge to him tonight. No suspicion. No challenge. Just something quieter. Controlled.
He walks further into the room, his gaze settling on me where I sit by the window. Studying.
Not in the way he usually does—like I’m a puzzle or a problem to solve.
This time…it feels different.
Like he sees more than I want him to.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Simple. Direct.
I almost laugh.
Instead, I nod once. “I’m fine.”
The lie comes easily. Too easily.
His expression doesn’t change.
Which tells me he doesn’t believe me.
Of course, he doesn’t.
Timofey steps closer, stopping just a few feet away. Not too close. Not distant either.
“The Rusnak family will not allow Anton to succeed,” he says.
His voice is calm.
Steady.
Not empty reassurance. Not something said just to fill the silence.
It sounds like fact.
Like a promise backed by blood and power and violence I’ve only begun to understand.
I look at him then. Fully.
And for the first time since the wedding. Since the package. Since everything. Something in my chest loosens.
Just a little.
Because he believes it.
Not blindly. Not arrogantly.
But with the kind of certainty that comes from knowing exactly what he and his family are capable of.
The tension pressing down on me eases, just enough for me to breathe a little deeper.
I swing my legs down and turn to him, holding his gaze.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
And then, my throat tightens.
