Mile High Daddy (Forbidden Silver Foxes #3)

20. Lila

20

LILA

I sit there, frozen, my pulse hammering so loudly I can barely hear my own thoughts.

Mikhail knows.

He doesn’t know where I am yet—but he will.

I just signed my own death warrant.

The phone slides from my fingers, hitting the couch with a soft thud.

I don’t have time to panic.

I need to move.

I scramble up, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. My vision blurs as adrenaline surges through me.

I don’t even know where to go—where I could possibly hide next. But one thing is certain: I can’t stay in Camden Hill.

I grab the small duffel bag from the closet, my fingers shaking as I shove clothes inside. My stomach twists violently, the babies shifting uncomfortably inside me as if they know something is wrong.

I have to protect them.

I stuff in my money, my fake IDs, everything I can fit.

The plan I had—the one I had been waiting for—is gone.

This was supposed to be my last stretch of safety.

A few more weeks. A quiet birth. A fresh start.

But Mikhail took that from me.

My knees almost buckle as I think of my mother, of how he must have cornered her, how she must have fought?—

I shake my head violently. No. Focus.

I sling the bag over my shoulder and shove my feet into my sneakers, my breath coming too fast. I need to get to the bus station. I need to?—

A knock on the door.

I freeze.

My stomach lurches.

No.

He couldn’t have found me yet. He couldn’t have.

Another knock—louder this time.

“Leah?”

The breath rushes from my lungs as I recognize the voice.

Alex.

I rush to the door and wrench it open, barely able to keep myself upright.

His dark eyes scan me immediately—my pale face, my shaking hands, the duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

His jaw tightens. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I have to leave,” I whisper.

His brows pull together. “What?”

I swallow hard. “I—” My voice wobbles. “I made a mistake.”

Alex studies me for half a second before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “Tell me what happened.”

I can’t.

I can’t tell him that I called my mother. That I got Mikhail closer to me. That I might not get away this time.

I shake my head. “I don’t have time to explain.”

He crosses his arms. “Leah.”

I flinch. He notices. His jaw tightens.

He knows something is wrong.

But he doesn’t push—not yet.

Instead, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay. Let’s say you’re right, and you have to leave—where the hell are you going?”

I part my lips, but nothing comes out.

Because the truth is?

I have nowhere.

Alex sees it the second the realization hits me.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing his jaw. “That’s what I thought.”

I clutch the strap of my bag, desperate. “I just—” My breath catches. “I have to figure something out.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he sighs. “Let me take you somewhere safe.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“I have friends,” he says. “They don’t ask questions. They don’t talk. I can get you out of town without anyone noticing.”

My heart races. “You’d do that?”

He shrugs. “You need help, don’t you?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to drag him into this.

But I don’t have a choice.

I nod.

Alex gestures toward the bag. “Let’s go.”

As I follow him out of the apartment, I don’t dare look back.

I wake up to the sound of rain.

For a moment, I don’t remember where I am. The sheets beneath me are soft but not mine, and the scent that lingers in the fabric—clean soap, faint coffee, something unmistakably masculine—is unfamiliar.

Then it comes back to me.

Alex.

I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling slowly.

He brought me here. To his apartment.

Because he didn’t think I should be alone.

Because, for some reason, he gives a damn.

I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face. The window across from me is streaked with rain, the world outside dim and gray. The clock on the nightstand says 12:47 PM.

I slept for hours.

Longer than I have in months.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I tug on the oversized sweater I wore yesterday and push myself to my feet. The apartment is quiet, save for the faint clinking of something from the kitchen.

I pad out into the open living space, stopping at the sight before me.

Alex is at the counter, stirring something in a mug, his back to me. He’s wearing a loose gray T-shirt and sweats, his posture relaxed but his shoulders still carrying that same coiled tension he always seems to have.

I shouldn’t be staring.

But I am.

His place is simple but lived-in—a deep brown couch, a shelf lined with books, a punching bag in the corner. No family photos. Nothing overly personal.

A space that exists, but doesn’t invite.

Like him.

“You just gonna stand there?”

His voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I’ve been caught. “I, uh…” I clear my throat. “Didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

Alex glances over his shoulder. “You needed it.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t usually sleep that much.”

He turns, leaning back against the counter, his eyes scanning me. “You don’t usually let yourself.”

I swallow. He’s too perceptive.

His gaze flickers toward the coffee machine. “There’s fresh coffee. You want some?”

I hesitate for a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

He gestures to the clean mug on the counter. “Help yourself.”

I walk over, pouring myself a cup, acutely aware of his eyes on me.

Finally, Alex exhales and pushes a plate toward me. Toast. Scrambled eggs. Bacon.

I stare at it.

“What, you don’t eat?” he asks, raising a brow.

I glance at him before picking up a fork. “I just didn’t expect…” I trail off, unsure how to explain that I haven’t had a real meal cooked for me in what feels like forever.

He studies me. “It’s just food, Leah.”

But it’s not just food.

It’s the fact that he even thought to make it. That he’s paying attention.

I take a bite, and for the first time in months, I feel warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with survival.

Alex watches me for a beat before he picks up his own coffee and takes a sip.

Then—

“You wanna tell me the truth now?”

I stop mid-bite.

My stomach tightens.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t soften his tone. He just waits, dark eyes steady on mine.

I swallow hard. “I told you already.”

“No.” He sets his mug down with a quiet thud . “You told me you were scared. You told me you were looking for your mom. That’s not the same as telling me who the hell you’re running from.”

My pulse spikes.

I grip my fork, forcing my face into something unreadable. “It’s complicated.”

Alex lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

I flinch.

“You don’t trust me,” he says after a moment.

I freeze.

He doesn’t say it like an accusation. He says it like a fact.

A fact that we both know is true.

I exhale, rubbing my fingers against my temple. “It’s not about that.”

His brow lifts. “No?”

I shake my head. “It’s about not dragging you into my mess.”

Alex scoffs. “Too late for that.”

The words hit me harder than I expect.

Because he’s right.

He’s already in this, whether I wanted him to be or not.

I force myself to meet his gaze. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, Alex.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I want to understand.”

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know. It’s safer this way.”

He chuckles drily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I frown. “Then tell me.”

He shakes his head. “If you can’t tell me your truth, don’t expect me to tell you mine. Just know that I want to keep you safe, and I will, no matter what.”

My heart thrums. Alex wants to protect me, but he has no idea what Mikhail is capable of. At least he won’t be able to track me here. That’s a consolation, but I know I don’t have much time. I need to leave town.

The car rumbles softly beneath me, the heater working just enough to keep the worst of the cold out, but I’m still shivering. I rub my arms, curling into myself, but no amount of warmth will get rid of the dread clawing at my stomach.

Alex drives in silence, his hands tight around the steering wheel.

I know he has questions.

I know he’s waiting for me to break and tell him the truth.

But I can’t.

Not when I don’t even know if I’ll make it through the night. It took a lot of convincing for us to leave Camden in the evening, but only because we’re crashing in a motel a few towns over. That’s okay with me. I have no idea what I’m going to be doing next, though.

The neon glow of a gas station sign appears up ahead, cutting through the darkness.

Alex exhales sharply and pulls into the lot.

He kills the engine, then turns to me. “I’m gonna grab some food. You should eat something.”

I nod stiffly, but I don’t move.

His eyes flicker over me, and for a moment, something almost like concern crosses his face. Then, without another word, he climbs out and walks toward the station’s convenience store, his shoulders hunched against the cold.

I exhale shakily, staring out the fogged-up window.

The night is quiet. The lot is nearly empty, except for a single black sedan parked near the back, its windows tinted too dark to see inside.

A chill runs down my spine, but I force myself to look away.

I have bigger problems.

My bladder twists painfully, the urgency coming out of nowhere.

Great.

With a grimace, I push the door open and step outside.

I tug my sweater tighter around me and make my way toward the restroom sign near the side of the station. The bathroom is gross—yellowing lights, a flickering bulb, graffiti-covered walls—but it’s empty, and right now, that’s all I care about.

I do my business quickly, my heart hammering in my chest the entire time.

I pause, gripping the rusted handle of the door.

Then I hear it.

Alex’s voice. “What the fuck do you want?”

And another voice which I don’t recognize. “…figured I’d finally see you in person.”

The voice is smooth, amused.

Then Alex’s voice, low and even. “What do you want?”

A chuckle. “Relax. Just making conversation.”

I peek carefully around the corner.

Alex is standing near the gas pumps, hands in his pockets, but he looks tense. He’s facing a man I recognize—tall, lean, dressed in a dark jacket and jeans. Ryan.

I hold my breath.

Ryan tilts his head. “Gotta say, I thought you’d be harder to track down.”

Alex exhales sharply. “Not trying to hide.”

Ryan smirks. “No? Is that why you left town?”

I see it—the flicker of irritation that crosses Alex’s face before he schools his expression again. “I don’t owe you a damn thing,” he says.

Ryan hums, unconvinced. “That’s the thing, though. People like us? We don’t just get to walk away.”

Alex doesn’t answer right away.

His jaw tightens. “I’m not part of anything anymore.”

Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s cute. You really believe that?”

Alex stays silent.

Ryan shrugs. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you do with your life. But people are starting to notice you again, and not in a good way.”

A beat.

Then Alex says, “Is that a warning?”

Ryan smiles, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s a fact.”

My stomach twists.

I have no idea what they’re talking about, but it’s clear this isn’t just some random meeting. Ryan knows things about Alex—things Alex clearly doesn’t want to discuss.

And the way Alex isn’t denying any of it?

That scares me the most.

Ryan shifts on his feet. “Do yourself a favor—keep your head down. And maybe don’t go making friends with people who have enemies they can’t outrun. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t think you can fool me.”

Alex’s entire body goes still.

But he doesn’t take the bait.

He exhales, rolling his shoulders. “Guess we’ll see what happens.”

Ryan tilts his head, studying him. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but if Mikhail wants something, he’s gonna get it. And if you’re in his way? That’s a problem.”

Alex crosses his arms. “If I were in his way, you wouldn’t be standing here warning me about it.”

Ryan lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You always were the smart one.”

I still.

What the hell does that mean?

Alex knows Mikhail?

I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under me.

Ryan exhales. “Just be careful. He doesn’t like loose ends.”

Alex’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing.

Ryan steps back, his tone lighter now. “Well, this was fun. I’ll see you around.”

Then he walks away, slipping into a black sedan parked near the back of the lot. The engine rumbles to life. A second later, the car disappears into the night.

I can’t move.

My mind is spinning.

Alex knows Mikhail.

Which means?—

He’s been working with him all along.

Oh my God.

I suck in a shaky breath, my stomach twisting violently.

My mind is spinning. If he knows who Mikhail is, he knows who I am.

He’s not taking me out of here to help me. From what Ryan said, I can assume he owes Mikhail some favor. Not surprising. The sting of betrayal takes my breath away. How could I have ever trusted him?

I need to act normal.

I need to act normal.

Before Alex notices I was listening.

I force myself to step away from the wall, walking casually back to the car. By the time I slip inside, my hands are shaking. A moment later, Alex climbs into the driver’s seat, tossing a bag of snacks onto my lap.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing at me briefly.

I nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He doesn’t push.

The moment Alex pulls the car onto the highway, my mind starts racing.

I have to get out of here.

I trusted him. I let him bring me into his home, let him talk me down when I was panicking.

But all along, he’s been working with Mikhail.

I sit still, gripping the snack bag in my lap, my heart slamming against my ribs. I force myself to keep my breathing even, to act like nothing is wrong.

Alex doesn’t speak much as he drives. He glances at me once or twice, but I keep my face turned toward the window.

I need a plan.

If he’s taking me back to Mikhail, I don’t have much time.

The bus station.

If I can get there, I can disappear again.

I scan the dark streets as we drive. I don’t know this area well, but I spot a sign just as we pass under a flickering streetlight.

Bus Station – 2 Miles

That’s my shot.

I swallow hard, shifting in my seat. My legs are shaking, but I can’t let him see. I have to wait for the right moment.

Fate hands it to me not even five minutes later.

Alex slows at a red light. There’s barely any traffic, just one other car waiting on the opposite side of the intersection.

I tighten my grip on the door handle.

It’s now or never.

The moment his eyes flick to the rearview mirror, I throw the door open and bolt.

I hear him curse behind me. “Lila!”

Lila, not Leah.

That just confirms all my suspicions.

But I don’t look back.

My feet pound against the pavement as I sprint down the sidewalk, cutting across an empty lot. The streetlights flash overhead, my lungs burning as I push myself forward.

One mile.

Half a mile.

I can make it.

The moment I see the glowing bus station sign, relief crashes into me so hard I nearly stumble. There are a few people waiting under the flickering lights—the last bus of the night still at the curb.

I made it.

I freaking made it.

I hurry toward the bus, digging into my pockets for cash.

I can’t stop shaking, but I force myself to keep moving, my breath ragged, my chest tight?—

A shadow moves in front of me.

My entire body locks up.

A figure steps out of the darkness, right between me and the bus doors.

Tall. Broad shoulders. A dark coat, the collar turned up against the night.

I turn to run?—

But it’s too late.

The man moves fast. A strong hand grips my wrist, yanking me back just as a low voice murmurs against my ear?—

“You shouldn’t have run, printsessa .”

My stomach drops.

Mikhail.

A sharp gasp rips from my throat as I twist, trying to wrench my wrist from his grip.

But Mikhail is like iron—unmovable, unshakable.

I can feel the heat of his body behind me, the tension in his muscles, the sheer force of his presence. His fingers tighten around my wrist, not painfully, but enough to tell me there’s no getting away this time.

My heart slams against my ribs.

I ran.

And he still found me.

“Mikhail—” My voice shakes as I try to turn fully toward him, but he’s already moving.

With one swift pull, he yanks me into the alley, pressing me up against the cold brick wall.

“You ran from me,” he rasps, his breath warm against my cheek.

I swallow hard, my pulse erratic.

“You were shot,” I whisper, my hands pressing against his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his torn dress shirt. “You should be?—”

“Should be what?” His voice is dark, dangerous.

I don’t answer.

Because the truth is, yes, I thought he might be dead. I thought the gunshot gave me enough of a window to escape.

But Mikhail isn’t just any man.

He’s the kind that doesn’t stay down.

His hand lifts to my jaw, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to look at him.

His gray eyes are stormy, his pupils blown wide, his gaze searing into me like he’s memorizing me.

“You think I’d let you go that easily, kiska ?” he murmurs, the words like velvet-wrapped steel.

My breath stutters. “I?—”

“I should punish you for this.” His thumb drags along my cheek, slow, deliberate. “For running. For making me chase you.”

The air between us is molten, thick with unspoken things, things I don’t want to feel but can’t stop myself from feeling.

My fingers tremble against his chest. “I had to leave,” I whisper, hating how breathless I sound. “I had to.”

His eyes darken. “Why?”

I part my lips, my lungs burning for air, but I can’t tell him.

I can’t tell him about my mother’s message.

I definitely can’t tell him that I’m pregnant.

Mikhail exhales harshly, his control fraying at the edges. His fingers tighten on my jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who he is.

I should be afraid.

I am afraid.

But not of him.

Not of what he’ll do to me.

I’m afraid of what I’ll let him do.

“You made a mistake, printsessa ,” he says darkly, pressing closer, his body pinning mine to the wall. “And now you’re going to learn what happens when you run from me.”

My throat goes dry.

“Mikhail—”

His mouth crashes against mine.

I should fight him. I should scream, claw at him, do something?—

But I don’t. I kiss him back.

Hard. Desperate. Like I need this as much as he does.

I can feel the heat of his body, the tension, the barely contained fury simmering beneath his skin. I moan into his mouth and he growls, deep and primal, like I’ve just given him permission to take whatever he wants.

“Say it,” he murmurs against my lips.

My head is spinning. “Say what?”

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back as his lips graze my throat. “Say you belong to me.”

My entire body shudders . His hands are steady, and sure—like a man who’s spent a lifetime learning exactly how to touch a woman. There’s no fumbling, no hesitation. Just a slow, deliberate unraveling, like he’s stripping me down layer by layer, claiming every inch.

I should say no.

I should lie.

But I can’t.

He bites down lightly on my throat, enough to make me shudder.

“Here you are,” he mutters, voice rough. “Coming apart for me.”

My nails dig into his shoulders, my body aching for more.

This is a mistake.

A dangerous, irreversible mistake.

But God help me?—

I don’t want him to stop.

His mouth moves over mine, deep and consuming, pulling me under like a riptide. I moan into his mouth, and he answers with a low growl, the sound vibrating through me, making my knees weak. His hands slide beneath my sweater, his palms rough and warm as they skim my waist, tracing the curves of my body with deliberate slowness.

Then he stills.

His fingers press lightly just below my ribs, then slide lower.

I barely register what’s happening before he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his hands frozen against my stomach. His brows draw together, confusion flickering across his face.

His eyes lift to mine, dark and unreadable.

“Lila,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost…disbelieving.

I swallow hard, my entire body locking up.

Mikhail’s gaze drops again, his hand spreading over the swell of my stomach. He presses his palm there, as if needing confirmation that what he’s feeling is real.

A long, heavy silence stretches between us.

Then he exhales, slow and controlled. “You’re pregnant.”

It’s not a question.

Mikhail lifts his gaze back to mine, and I brace myself for anger, for accusations, for anything?—

But all I see is shock.

And then, as his grip on me tightens, everything tilts. A wave of dizziness slams into me so fast I barely manage to whisper his name before my legs give out completely.

The last thing I hear before everything goes dark is Mikhail cursing as he catches me.