Page 62 of The Russian's Bought Bride

Nikolai goes quiet, and for the first time since I met him, he actually looks uncertain, like the answer isn’t an obvious one.

“I haven’t worked out all the details yet,” he admits finally. “But I started this, so I’ll finish it.”

His eyes look dark and steady despite the exhaustion lining his face, and the conviction in his voice sends a strange chill through me.

I don’t believe he’s bluffing for even a second, and somehow that’s both reassuring and terrifying.

For a beat too long, I don’t know what to do with the silence between us. Then, before I can overthink it, I move toward the freezer and pull out an ice pack.

Nikolai watches me carefully as I wordlessly wrap it in a kitchen towel and hold it out toward him. He doesn’t say anything, but he almost seems surprised.

“You should probably put that on your face before it swells,” I mutter, trying to ignore the part of me that wants to do more to help.

A new kind of softness flickers briefly through his expression as he takes it from me. “Thanks.”

Leaning back against the counter across from him, I cross my arms and consider my words before they leave me sounding more unwilling to fight than I ever intended. “I’m still furious with you for keeping me here, and for lying to me while I was grieving.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods once like he expects it. “I know.”

“But…” I hesitate, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “I hate those men more.”

Instantly, my father’s face flashes through my mind, of him smiling at me over breakfast, laughing at terrible shows most people would turn off, of trusting those doctors while I sat beside him, believing we were saving his life.

That same grief hits me all over again, but I force myself to carry it anyway.

I went through something I never should have, and seeing as me and my dad weren’t the first to be victimized by these people, there are others out there who know exactly how this feels. They know the same pain, and even more will if Nikolai isn’t successful.

It’s easy to feel helpless, but I don’t want others to assume they’re alone in this.

“They killed my dad, and they would’ve killed me too,” I say just above a whisper, making sure I hold his gaze. “I want you to take them down too, even if it means using your means to do it.”

Nikolai just stares at me like he wasn’t expecting me to be so accepting of his life and the danger that comes with his work, but something shifts in him. Resolve floods his features, and he stands a little straighter despite the exhaustion. His hand tightens around the ice pack slightly as he steps closer.

“I will, for my family and for yours.”

For the first time since all of this began, it feels like we’re no longer standing on opposite sides of this nightmare after all, but finding a more stable common ground.

Chapter 19 - Nikolai

I hadn’t expected her to hand me ice, and that little gesture has stayed with me far longer than it should have.

Out of everything Danielle could have done after learning about the attack and how badly this situation had spiraled into my family’s affairs, she chose to listen. Her empathy was reluctant, but empathy all the same.

Most people in my world learn quickly to keep their distance from problems they don’t understand. They protect themselves first, then look at men like me and decide if we deserve whatever consequences come our way.

Danielle should probably think the same, but instead, she looked at me in the kitchen, covered in blood and exhaustion, and somehow, regardless of her grief and anger, she still cared enough to check in.

It’s the kind of softness that makes her better than me. It doesn’t make her weak, but it does something to me that I’m still trying to understand.

For over a week, I’ve thrown myself into work even harder than usual, partly because the Malenkov situation genuinely demands it, and because keeping busy is easier than sitting still long enough to examine what is happening between us.

Ruslan has been running his men ragged trying to track Grigori’s movements through Vegas. Every lead we get dissolves before we can close in, as their safehouses are abandoned hours before we arrive, and any trace of them vanishes like they were never there to begin with.

Grigori is being cautious to the point of paranoia now, which means he understands the pressure building around him just as much as I do.

Still, I know men like him eventually make mistakes. Greed and arrogance always fracture their patience eventually, and I just need someone good enough to help expose them.

That’s why I called Artem to meet up.