The word echoes through my head. I should run, but my legs refuse to move as the rifle comes up.
A shot rings out and I hold my breath, expecting splintering pain to ripple through me…but nothing happens. Instead, the man’s head jerks violently to the side, and he collapses with his finger still pressed to the trigger.
As his body gives way, Leonid steps out from the foyer behind him, holding a gun with a ring of smoke dancing around the tip.
He doesn’t look human. His eyes are cold, his face expressionless besides the bloody, murderous expression etched on it.
Smoke curls around him and blood streaks one sleeve of his black jacket. He looks terrifyingly calm for someone who just took a life.
But something shifts when his gaze lands on me. The murderous expression disappears so quickly that I almost think I imagined it, and something that looks awfully close to fear flashes across his face.
“Ptichka.”
Tucking his gun into his holster, he hurries toward me.
Given how I just watched him murder a man in cold blood, I should turn and sprint the other way. But I’m too shocked from everything that happened, and in the middle of it all, Leonid’s presence is a welcome source of comfort to the panic still churning inside of me.
I sink into his arms even though I find the smell of the blood on him nauseating.
“Elena.” He pats my cheek, worry laced in his tone. “Are you okay?”
My breathing is labored. I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but instead I burst into tears, all the fear from earlier finally breaking through.
He pulls me to his chest. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now. I’m sorry I came late,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to my neck and then the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”
“You came,” I mutter breathlessly. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
“God, ptichka. Don’t ever say that again. I will burn down this city with everyone in it if it means I keep you safe. I’d be dead before I let any of those bastards lay their filthy fingers on you.”
The rage and protectiveness in his voice makes me believe him. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I cry even harder with relief, because I’m not sure what else to do.
He holds me tightly, combing his fingers through my hair as he patiently waits for me to calm down. He doesn’t let go, even when sirens blare from a distance and his men hurry to clean the mess of blood and brain matter.
In the midst of all the chaos, I find comfort in the way his scent and warmth wrap around me, with one thought burning in my mind.
Leonid came for me.
I don’t know what I expected when I sent that message to him, but it surely wasn’t him dropping everything to get to me. It wasn’t him killing everyone who dared to terrorize the house while he was away.
After about an hour of crying, I pull away from him and tilt my head back to look at the man who I now believe would risk everything for me. My husband. My hero.
Even with the stain of dried blood on his cheeks, he still looks as handsome as ever. The air between us is charged with something more than intense chemistry now.
Trust.
I trust Leonid Nazarov.
Weeks ago, I never would’ve thought a day would come where I’d trust the man who took me captive and forced me to wear a wedding gown, then threatened to kill my parents and best friend if I tried to escape him.
But I do, and that’s all that matters now.
Sniffling, I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “Who are they? What did they want?”
“Vasili’s men,” Leonid answers, his Russian accent stronger than I’ve heard it in a while. It seems to be more pronounced whenever he’s furious. “That motherfucker has moved from cold war to declaring an open war on me.”
“Open war? He could’ve killed you.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “I’m not that easy to kill, baby. That son of a bitch knows as much. This was just his way of declaring we’re at war and trying to scare me off. It’s not me you should be afraid for, but the bastard who tried to harm you.”
