The music fades into a gentle stop, the last note lingering in the air between us. But neither of us moves immediately. We stay there. Close. Like stepping away would break something fragile that neither of us is ready to name.
Then, slowly, I let my hand fall away from her waist.
Distance returns.
Not much.
Just enough.
I straighten slightly and extend my arm, offering my elbow.
“Shall we?”
She looks at it for a second, then back at me. And then she giggles. Soft. Light. Unexpected. It catches me off guard. Because it’s the first time I’ve heard it.
And for a brief moment, it feels like something I want to hear again.
“Yes,” she says, slipping her hand around my arm.
And just like that, the moment ends. The doors open. And together, we walk back into the war.
Chapter 13 – Valeria
The gala becomes my first real introduction to Timofey’s world.
Not the version I’ve seen from behind closed doors.
Not the quiet, controlled environment of his home.
This is different.
Louder.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
The ballroom is filled with power.
Not the kind you can touch—but the kind you feel the moment you walk into the room. Conversations pause just a second too long when we enter. Eyes follow. People assess. Calculate.
They’re not just looking at me.
They’re measuring me.
I tighten my hold slightly on Timofey’s arm, but my posture stays straight. My chin lifts just enough.
I will not look overwhelmed.
I will not look weak.
If they expect a frightened girl running from Moscow, they’ll be disappointed.
“This is where it starts,” I murmur under my breath.
Timofey doesn’t look at me, but I feel the slight shift in his arm.
“I know,” he replies.
