Chapter 46 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
The warehouse erupts in chaos, but all I can focus on is Ivy's pale face as her knees buckle.
I lunge forward, catching her just before she hits the concrete floor, her body going completely limp in my arms. My heart hammers against my ribs as I pull her against my chest, one arm supporting her back, the other cradling her head.
"Ivy," I murmur, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. Her skin is too pale, almost translucent, and for a terrifying moment, I think something's wrong beyond just the shock of seeing her supposedly dead father standing ten feet away.
Andrei Andreev hovers nearby, his weathered face a mask of uncertainty and longing.
He takes a tentative step toward us, his hand reaching out as if to touch his daughter's face, then stops abruptly.
The pain in his eyes is raw, devastating.
All these years of watching from the shadows, of letting his little girl believe he was dead, and now he can't even comfort her when she needs it most.
"Is she—” he starts, his voice rough with emotion.
"She's fine," I snap, though I'm not entirely sure. My fingers find her pulse at her throat, steady but rapid. "Viktor, get the car.”
"What about the bodies?" Maksim asks, gesturing to the three Antonov soldiers we just eliminated.
"Dispose of them. Make it clean." I adjust my grip on Ivy, lifting her more securely against my chest. She's so damn small in my arms, so fragile.
The thought of what could have happened if we'd arrived even five minutes later makes my blood run cold.
"And sweep the place. I want to know everything about what they were planning. "
Viktor's already moving toward the exit, his phone pressed to his ear as he coordinates with our backup teams. I follow, Andrei falling into step beside me, his gaze never leaving Ivy's unconscious form.
"She looks just like her mother did at that age," he says quietly, and there's so much regret in his voice, it's almost painful to hear.
"Save it," I growl, my protective instincts flaring. This man may have saved my life, may be the reason I'm honoring a blood oath by protecting his daughter, but right now, all I can think about is Ivy and what could have happened to her.
The fury building in my chest threatens to consume me as we reach the car.
Vadim wasn't here. Dumb fucking luck. That could have solved all our problems. If that bastard had been in the warehouse, we could have ended this tonight.
Ivy wouldn't have to testify next week, wouldn't have to relive the horror of watching David Volkov get executed. She could be free of this nightmare.
But no. According to the intel Viktor gathered from the soldiers before we put them down, Vadim is away on business, expected back within the hour. Probably off making deals with other families, building alliances to strengthen his position before the trial. The coward.
I know exactly what he was planning for Ivy.
The sick fuck would have tortured her slowly, methodically, because she's my wife.
Because hurting her would hurt me. He'd have made her suffer for hours, maybe days, extracting every ounce of pain he could before finally putting a bullet in her head to ensure she couldn't testify.
The thought makes my hands shake with rage as I slide into the back seat of the SUV, keeping Ivy cradled against my side. Andrei climbs in on her other side, his movements careful, reverent, like he's afraid she might disappear if he moves too quickly.
Viktor takes the driver's seat while Maksim settles into the passenger side, both of them maintaining the professional silence that comes with years of working together.
Through the rear window, I can see our backup cars falling into formation behind us, a small convoy of protection surrounding my most precious cargo.
Ivy's head lolls against my shoulder as we pull away from the warehouse, her breathing soft and even. I press my lips to her hair, inhaling her familiar scent, and my chest tightens with possessiveness. She fits perfectly against me, like she was made to be in my arms.
"How long?" Andrei asks suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"How long what?"
"How long have you been married?"
I glance at him, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the barely contained emotion in his weathered features. "Three weeks."
He nods slowly, his gaze fixed on Ivy's peaceful face. "She's happy?"
The question catches me off guard. I expected anger, demands, maybe even accusations about corrupting his innocent daughter. Not this quiet, desperate need for reassurance.
"Yes," I say simply, because it's the truth. Despite everything—the danger, the violence, the complete upheaval of her quiet life—Ivy is happy. She's found her place in my world, in my arms, in my heart.
At least I hope that’s true.
Then why did she leave without a word?
I shut that thought down immediately.
"Good," he breathes, and I see his shoulders relax slightly. "That's all I ever wanted for her."
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
I keep one hand on Ivy's hip, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, while the other rests on the gun at my waist. Even with our security detail, even knowing we eliminated the immediate threat, I won't relax until we're behind the walls of my estate.
When we finally pull through the gates, I'm already planning.
Ivy will need time to process seeing her father, to understand why he faked his death and stayed away all these years.
She'll have questions, probably anger, definitely confusion.
And through it all, I'll be there to anchor her, to remind her that whatever happened in the past, she's mine now. She's safe.
Viktor parks in the circular drive, and I'm moving before the engine fully stops. Ivy stirs slightly as I lift her from the car, her eyelashes fluttering but not quite opening. Andrei follows us up the front steps and into the house, his footsteps echoing in the marble foyer.
"Sir?" Anya appears at the top of the stairs, her face creased with worry. "Is she hurt?"
"She fainted," I call back, taking the steps two at a time. "Have the doc on standby, just in case."
Our bedroom is dim and quiet, the heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. I lay Ivy gently on our bed, smoothing her hair back from her face as Andrei hovers in the doorway, clearly uncertain whether he's welcome.
"Ivy," I murmur, cupping her cheek with my palm. Her skin is warmer now, some color returning to her features. "Come on, little bird. Wake up for me."
Her eyelashes flutter again, and this time her eyes open slowly, unfocused and confused. She blinks several times, her gaze moving around the room until it lands on me. I see the moment awareness returns, the way her body tenses as memory floods back.
Then her eyes shift past me to where Andrei stands, and her breath catches.
"Easy," I say quickly, my thumb stroking across her cheekbone. "Just relax. We'll explain everything, but I need you to stay calm. I don't want you fainting again."
Ivy struggles to sit up, and I help her, keeping one arm around her shoulders for support. But instead of the confusion or fear I expected, her expression shifts to something else entirely. Something that looks suspiciously like anger.
"I didn't faint because of shock," she growls, her blue eyes flashing with irritation as she glares at me. "I fainted because I'm pregnant, you idiot."