32. Damien
32
DAMIEN
My phone buzzes once.
Sasha’s number.
My heart lurches as I open the message without thinking, already moving to stand, already hoping—praying—that it’s her. That it’s something. That it means she’s alive.
Come and get your printsessa
A set of coordinates follows.
I go cold.
Nina sees my face shift and steps closer. “What is it?”
I turn the screen toward her, jaw clenched. “It’s from her number. Coordinates. Someone wants me to come.”
“That’s a trap,” she says immediately. “He’s taunting you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I snap. My voice comes out lower than I intend. “I have to go.”
Nina grabs my arm. “Damien. Think. You walk in there without a plan, you’re giving Lev exactly what he wants. You’ll get yourself killed. That won’t help her.”
“I have to save her.” My voice breaks on the edges. I don’t care if she hears it. “I won’t lose her.”
Ryan, quiet until now, steps forward. “Then let me go with you. You’ll need help getting her out. Keeping them safe.”
Them.
That’s the word he uses.
My head snaps toward him.
“Them?”
Ryan looks suddenly pale. He opens his mouth—but before he can speak, another message hits my screen.
I open it.
And everything stops.
An image loads—grainy, black and white. A medical form half-cropped. But I don’t need the whole thing. I know what it is. What I’m looking at.
A tiny shape.
An ultrasound.
Our baby.
My legs nearly give out.
The room falls away—Nina, Ryan, the city around me—gone. All I see is the outline of something that shouldn’t be real, something I never thought I’d get to have again.
“Sasha is pregnant?” I say, voice barely a whisper.
No one answers.
They don’t need to.
I grip the edge of the table like it’s the only thing anchoring me. My throat is tight. My eyes sting. I don’t remember the last time that happened.
“She’s carrying my child,” I murmur. “And I sent her away.”
“They’re messing with you,” Nina says, desperate now. “Damien, listen to me. That message was meant to rattle you. They want you emotional. That’s when you’re easiest to kill.”
But I barely hear her.
I’m looking at the screen again. At that little speck of life.
She didn’t tell me.
I pushed her away thinking I was protecting her…and now she’s in the hands of the one man who wants to see me destroyed.
She’s probably terrified. Alone. And pregnant. And it’s my fault—every decision I made led her straight into danger.
If anything happens to her…if I lose her because I let my pride speak louder than my heart—I’ll never forgive myself.
All I can hear is Sasha’s voice in my memory—laughing, stubborn, teasing me. All I can feel is the fire behind my ribs. The fire of every mistake I made that led her here.
I’ve failed her once.
I’m not doing it again.
Not with her.
Not with our baby.
I stand, fists clenched, throat raw.
“I’m getting them back,” I say. “Even if it kills me.”
And I mean every goddamn word.
I don’t hear most of what Nina says. She’s on the phone behind me as I head for the door, her voice sharp with orders. “I’ll send backup—units on both flanks—Damien, wait, don’t be reckless?—”
I don’t stop. I don’t look back. My body is already moving.
She could send an army. I don’t care.
This—this is between me and them.
The drive out of the city is a blur. The sun’s gone, replaced by fog thick enough to choke on. I follow the coordinates like they’re a noose around my neck, and I keep gripping the wheel tighter every time my thoughts spiral.
Sasha.
Sasha pregnant.
Sasha terrified and alone and—God, what if she’s cold? What if she’s hurt?
What if I never get to tell her I’m sorry?
I drive faster.
Trees blur past. Asphalt gives way to gravel. Gravel gives way to dirt. I don’t even notice when my car starts bouncing over rocks and roots—my eyes are on the path, my mind replaying every mistake.
I shouldn’t have sent her away.
I thought I was protecting her, and now Lev has her.
He has her.
And if she’s scared right now, if she’s crying—if she even thinks I abandoned her.
No.
No.
I slam the door shut as I reach the edge of the tree line and move fast, ducking through shadows, every step heavy with rage.
There’s nothing but woods and silence.
Then—
A faint sound.
Something crunching.
I slow down, stepping lightly over a root. There—movement, just up ahead.
A silhouette. Big. Broad.
I move closer, squinting.
Roman.
He’s standing near an old hunting shed, turning slightly like he’s on watch. His gun’s tucked in his belt. Careless.
Good.
I’m on him before he sees me.
I slam into his side and tackle him to the ground. He grunts, twisting beneath me, but I’m already swinging. My fist connects with his jaw. Then again. And again.
He throws a punch that glances off my ribs, but I don’t stop. I grab him by the collar and drag him up, only to slam him back into the dirt.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarl. “Where is she?”
He coughs, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’re too late?—”
I punch him again.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
Roman spits out blood. “He’s waiting for you.”
That’s when I hear it.
The unmistakable sound of a safety clicking off.
I freeze.
“Let him go,” a voice says. Cold. Calm. Unmoved.
I turn.
Lev stands at the tree line, one arm locked tightly around Sasha’s shoulders. The other holds a gun—pressed to her temple.
And she’s shaking.
Her face is pale. Her eyes—wide and glassy—lock on mine like she’s afraid she’s hallucinating me.
But I’m real.
I’m here.
And so is she.
My breath catches when I take her in fully.
Her belly.
She’s holding it. Protecting it.
She’s not even trying to struggle—she’s just watching me like I’m her last hope.
“Sasha,” I breathe.
She blinks. Her lips tremble. She doesn’t say anything.
“Let her go,” I snarl, turning toward Lev, standing up straight. My fists are still clenched, Roman coughing in the dirt behind me.
Lev smiles like this is a reunion. “Didn’t I tell you he’d come for you?” he says softly to Sasha, like we’re all part of some twisted bedtime story. “Men like Damien—always predictable.”
“Let. Her. Go.”
His eyes flick to the gun in his hand. “Or what? You’ll kill me? Right in front of the woman carrying your child?”
My heart pounds.
He knows .
And I can’t take the shot. I can’t move.
Because one wrong twitch?—
One pull of that trigger.
And I lose everything.
I lift my hands slowly.
“I’m here. You have me,” I say. “Let her go.”
His smile only grows wider. “You really think this is about you ?”
And Sasha—Sasha just keeps her eyes locked on me, her lips barely moving as she whispers, “Please, Damien…don’t.”
But I’m already past the point of no return.
Because if he hurts her…
If he so much as touches her, then I’ll show Lev what a Zaitsev really is.
I’m running every outcome in my head.
No matter how I slice it, I lose.
If I lunge—he pulls the trigger.
If I wait—he still might.
Sasha’s face is tight with fear, but she’s not crying. She’s not screaming. She’s doing what I taught her—even if she didn’t realize it—she’s surviving.
She’s holding her belly like a shield and keeping her eyes locked on mine, as if the connection between us might hold her steady.
God, she’s strong.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say to Lev, my voice low, calm, controlled , even if everything inside me is fraying apart. “You want me. Take me.”
He tuts, tightening his arm around Sasha’s shoulders until she flinches.
“I already have you,” he says. “Or at least…the version of you I wanted. See, this is better. You used to think you were untouchable. Look at you now—knees bent, palms up, begging for a woman.”
“A woman who means more to me than you ever could,” I snap.
Sasha’s breath hitches.
I don’t take my eyes off Lev. “If you kill her, there’s no leverage. No throne. No empire. You get nothing. You think Roman gives a shit once you’re gone? You think the others will follow you when they see this mess?”
“You’re trying to negotiate?” Lev sneers. “Right now?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“You know what I think?” Lev says, angling the barrel of the gun so it presses right between her eyes.
My pulse spikes.
“I think you’ll die for her,” he continues. “I think that baby’s yours. And I think making you watch would be a hell of a lot more satisfying than a bullet in your head.”
“Lev,” Roman warns from behind me. “Don’t.”
“Shut up,” Lev snaps.
My eyes are locked on Sasha. Her mouth opens. She’s trying to tell me something.
And then?—
Crack.
It’s not the gun.
It’s her heel.
She drives it down into Lev’s shin with all the strength she has.
He howls, his body twisting.
The gun jerks—fires into the trees. I move.
In that fraction of a second, I draw and aim and I shoot him.
Once.
Right in the chest.
He stumbles. Blinks at me, stunned—like he can’t quite believe it.
Blood blooms across his shirt. Then he drops.
Just like that.
I barely have time to breathe.
I’m about to go to Sasha when I hear a click. “Don’t move.”
I freeze, turning to face Roman, who has his gun cocked at me.
“You don’t want to do this,” I growl.
“Oh, I want to,” he says. “Question is—do you?”
We stand there. Two guns pointed. Two men once bound by blood and oath and trust.
That trust is a pile of ash now.
“You were my brother,” I bite out.
“And you made me your dog,” he spits.
“You chose to follow me.”
“No,” Roman sneers. “I chose to believe in you. Big mistake.”
My grip tightens. “So what now? You shoot me? Walk away with Lev’s corpse still warm and what—build something off the scraps?”
His finger rests near the trigger.
“You don’t have the guts to shoot me,” he says. “You never did. That’s why I always did the dirty work.”
He thinks that’ll push me. He’s testing me.
And the worst part?
It almost works.
Because the betrayal runs bone-deep. Roman was the only one who knew everything. My past. My pain. My weaknesses.
“I trusted you,” I say.
He tilts his head. “That was your mistake.”
Then—two gunshots crack through the trees.
Roman drops like a stone.
“FUCK!” he roars, crumpling to the ground. “You?—!”
I spin around.
Sasha is standing there, Lev’s gun clutched in both hands. Her arms are shaking. Her face is pale—but her aim was perfect.
Twice in the shin. No fatal shots. Just enough to put him down hard.
Roman tries to grab for his weapon, but I’m already on him.
I slam my boot into his ribs, send his arm sprawling, then hit him across the temple with the butt of my gun.
He slumps.
Still breathing. But out cold.
I step back, panting. My gun hand is still raised, but everything in me trembling.
Sasha drops the pistol. It clatters onto the forest floor.
I look at her—really look at her.
She’s still shaking. Her hair wild, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling. There’s a smear of dirt on her jaw, blood on her sleeve.
She walks toward me without hesitation and throws her arms around my neck.
I catch her like she’s all that’s keeping me on my feet.
“You didn’t kill him,” she whispers. “You could have. But you didn’t.”
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in. “I couldn’t. No matter what he did…I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Her fingers brush the back of my neck.
“You’re not a monster, Damien.”
I squeeze her tighter. “You’ve no idea how close I came.”
“I do,” she says. “And you still didn’t cross that line.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes burning with something fierce and soft all at once.
“You saved me,” she says. “Let me save you too.”
And I do the only thing I can.
I kiss her.