Chapter Six
Sofia woke to the sound of gunfire. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. The loud burst of bullets being fired shattered her sleep so violently that she came awake with a gasp, her heart already racing before her mind had caught up.
Darkness filled the room. Heavy curtains blocked most of the moonlight, leaving only faint silver outlines across the furniture. Another burst of gunfire echoed through the night, and it sounded far too close for her liking.
Sofia pushed herself upright in bed, every muscle instantly tense. The Volkov estate. The realization hit a second later. She was in the Volkov estate, not her old room at the Marino family home.
Even though Dimitri and she had been married for two weeks, she still forgot where she was. Maybe a part of her still yearned for her old home. True, it had felt like a prison on some days, but she had grown up there.
The thought barely formed before shouting erupted somewhere beyond the walls. Men yelled, followed by another volley of gunfire. Adrenaline surged through her bloodstream.
How? That question struck immediately. How had anyone gotten inside?
The estate was practically a fortress. Cameras monitored every approach. Guards patrolled around the clock. Security checkpoints existed at every entrance. During the day, Sofia had privately mocked how paranoid the Volkovs seemed.
Now that paranoia appeared justified. Another crash echoed through the corridor. That sounded too close for her comfort. What was she still doing in bed?
Sofia threw back the blankets and slid out of bed. Her pulse hammered against her ribs. Years of training took over before panic could.
Assess the situation, arm yourself, then move. Sofia slipped her hand beneath her pillow and wrapped her fingers around the grip of the handgun hidden there.
The little gun was a secret she’d kept from Dimitri. It wasn’t because she had any intentions of using it against him. Old habits died hard, that’s all. The familiar weight settled into her palm.
It was loaded and ready. Comforting. Another noise came from beyond the adjoining door connecting her room to Dimitri’s.
A heavy thud, perhaps furniture breaking. It was followed by grunts and angry voices. Two men, struggling. The adjoining room. Dimitri. Her first instinct should have been self-preservation.
She ought to lock her door, stay hidden, and wait for the shooting to stop. Then when the coast was clear, she could reassess the situation. Instead, she found herself moving toward the connecting door. The realization irritated her immediately.
Why was she doing this? Dimitri was a grown man. A Bratva prince. One of the most dangerous people she’d ever met. He could handle himself. Couldn’t he?
Then a harsh choking sound carried through the wood. Everything inside her went cold. Without thinking, Sofia unlocked the door.
The scene beyond nearly stopped her heart. The bedroom looked like a war zone. Glass littered the floor beneath a shattered window. A lamp had been overturned. One of the chairs lay splintered against the wall.
In the middle of the room, Dimitri was losing. The realization struck harder than she expected. A man dressed entirely in black had him pinned against the floor.
The assassin pressed his forearm across Dimitri’s throat while his other hand fought to maintain leverage. Dimitri’s face was bruised. Blood ran from a cut near his temple. His jaw was clenched as he struggled for air.
For one terrible second Sofia saw something she’d never imagined seeing. Helplessness. Well, Dimitri wasn’t completely powerless. He was still fighting, but he was losing. The assassin had the advantage, and if nobody intervened, Dimitri was going to die.
A strange burst of fear exploded inside her chest, sudden and violent. Far stronger than it had any right to be. Dimitri’s eyes found hers. Relief flashed across his face, then fury.
“Why are you just standing there? Run!” The word came out rough from his compressed throat. “Run, Sofia!”
She didn’t move. The assassin looked toward the doorway, at her, and the gun in her hand. That single glance was all the opening she needed. She took her chance while he was distracted and raised the weapon.
Years of training narrowed the world to a single point. Sofia breathed in, then out, aimed carefully, and fired.
The gunshot thundered through the room. The assassin jerked violently. Shock flashed across his face, then he toppled sideways. The bastard was dead before he hit the floor. Silence crashed down.
Sofia stood frozen, the smell of gunpowder filling the room. For a heartbeat neither of them moved. Then Dimitri shoved the body away and surged to his feet.
His chest heaved, blood streaked his cheek, and his shirt was torn. His expression looked absolutely murderous. He crossed the room in seconds. Sofia tightened her grip on the handgun.
She didn’t think he would hurt her. Sofia was still his wife after all, and she undoubtedly saved his life, but she honestly had no idea what he was about to do. Anger blazed across his face. Was he going to strike her?
Then she studied him closer and realized there was something else in his eyes. A raw emotion, she only identified a second later. Fear. Was he afraid for her? No, that couldn’t be.
Then suddenly his arms wrapped around her so hard, the gun nearly slipped from her fingers. Sofia froze. Every thought abandoned her at once. Dimitri held her against him like he was afraid to let go.
Dimitri buried his face against her hair, and the sharp scent of his aftershave hit her nose. He tightened his arms further around her, until her breasts brushed against the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt. So warm, she thought.
To Sofia’s complete shock, she felt him trembling slightly.
“I was so worried,” he muttered against her hair.
The words stunned her more thoroughly than the attack itself. For several long seconds she couldn’t even remember how to speak. It didn’t seem like he was lying, the emotions on his face were too genuine, too heartfelt.
Dimitri finally pulled back enough to look at her. He kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, as though he needed to reassure himself she was actually standing there. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was tight enough for Sofia to feel the lingering adrenaline running through him.
“You should have run,” he said in a rough voice.
Sofia blinked, noting the slight anger in his voice. She was still trying to catch up with everything that had happened. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot.
Her pulse refused to slow. The assassin’s body lay only a few feet away, a grim reminder of how close the night had come to ending very differently.
“What?” she managed.
“You should have listened.” There it was, the sharp edge returning to his voice. Dimitri continued, “If I tell you to run, you run.”
Sofia stared at him. For a moment she’d almost forgotten who he was because of the fierce embrace, the fear she’d seen in his eyes, and the way he’d held her like losing her would have destroyed him.
Now the familiar Dimitri was reappearing. The controlled one. The dangerous one. The man who disguised concern as irritation because it was safer than admitting he cared.
Something inside her settled. Oddly enough, it was easier to deal with his annoyance than whatever had possessed him thirty seconds ago. Sofia crossed her arms.
“I only saved you because if you die, our alliance collapses.”
The excuse sounded weak the moment it left her mouth, and she knew it. Judging by the look on Dimitri’s face, he knew it too. He narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly not buying her lie.
Unfortunately for him, Sofia wasn’t about to tell the truth. She wasn’t about to admit that when she’d opened the door and seen an assassin strangling him on the floor, her heart had practically stopped.
Like hell she would tell him that genuine panic had ripped through her, or that she’d never moved so fast in her life. Those truths were infinitely more dangerous than any gunman.
Dimitri studied her for several long seconds. The silence stretched. His gaze moved across her face as though searching for something. A crack, confession, anything. Then, unexpectedly, he let it go.
Perhaps because he already knew the answer, or at the very least, Dimitri understood that neither of them was ready to discuss it.
Outside the room, footsteps thundered down the hallway, voices barked orders, and doors were slammed. The attack was ending.
Gradually the sounds of chaos began to fade.
No more gunfire or explosions echoed through the estate, shouting ceased, but Sofia thought she glimpsed Volkov men securing the grounds outside the nearby window.
The sudden quiet felt almost eerie after so much violence. Dimitri’s attention shifted toward the bedroom door.
“Our men handled the rest,” he said, voice once more cold and controlled.
The vulnerability she’d witnessed moments earlier vanished so quickly she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.
“They wouldn’t stop until every attacker was dead,” he finished.
Sofia believed him without question. The Volkovs inspired many things, and mercy wasn’t one of them. She glanced toward the dead assassin on the floor.
“What really happened? I thought the security at the estate was air-tight,” Sofia said.
Dimitri tightened his jaw. “I intend to find out.”
Sofia realized it was back to business now. The moment between them evaporated beneath both. He released her shoulders and stepped away. The absence of contact felt strangely noticeable. Sofia immediately hated herself for noticing.
Dimitri bent beside the bed and retrieved another handgun from a hidden compartment built into the nightstand. His movements were efficient despite the bruises already darkening along his throat.
Blood still stained his collar. The sight bothered her more than it should have. He checked the weapon, loaded it, then looked at her.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
Sofia didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
He met her gaze and lifted one dark eyebrow. “No? That wasn’t a question, wife.”
“I’m coming with you, husband,” Sofia emphasized the last word.
Dimitri looked genuinely unimpressed. “Absolutely not.”
Sofia folded her arms tighter. “Why not?”
“Because someone just tried to kill us,” he reminded her.
“Exactly, which is why we must stay together,” she said.
His stare suggested she was being deliberately difficult. Which, admittedly, she was.
“You’ll be safer here,” he reminded her.
“And you’ll be safer if I shoot the next assassin,” she pointed out sweetly.
Dimitri gritted his teeth. He looked annoyed at the reminder she saved his life.
“That’s not funny,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. Was that a smile? Sofia pounced immediately.
“I’m your wife,” she reminded him.
“That isn’t an argument,” he told him.
“It is in this family.”
Dimitri sighed. The sound carried all the resignation of a man surrendering to an inevitable defeat.
“You’re impossible,” he finally said.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Frequently?”
“By nearly everyone,” she assured him.
Another moment passed. Then he finally nodded. “Fine.”
Victory, small but satisfying. Sofia carefully hid her smile. As they moved toward the door, he dropped his gaze to the handgun still resting comfortably in her hand. His expression became thoughtful.
Sofia instantly distrusted whatever was coming next.
“One question,” he began.
There it was.
“What?” Sofia demanded.
Dimitri looked at the weapon, then at her, and back at the weapon again.
“Where exactly were you hiding that cute little gun?”
Sofia stopped walking. Cute little gun? How dare he! Her jaw dropped.
“You are not calling it cute.” His expression remained perfectly serious.
“I might.”
“It saved your life,” she said.
“It did.”
“You were literally being strangled,” Sofia pointed out.
“I remember.”
“You’d be dead without it.”
“My gratitude remains unchanged.”
Sofia stared at him, then pointed at the gun.
“My cute little gun saved your sorry ass,” she reminded him once more for emphasis.
For one second, Dimitri simply looked at her. Then something remarkable happened. He laughed, and it wasn’t the polite chuckle he occasionally used during business meetings.
A real laugh, warm and unrestrained. The sound filled the room. Sofia froze, for she had never heard it before. The transformation was startling. His entire face changed. The hard edges softened.
The perpetual weight he carried seemed to lift, if only for a moment, and he looked younger and less dangerous. Less like a Bratva prince and more like an ordinary man. The realization hit her unexpectedly hard, and somehow made him even more attractive.
Which was an entirely separate problem. Dimitri eventually noticed her staring. His laughter faded. Their eyes met. The room seemed quieter and smaller suddenly. The space between them charged with something neither of them acknowledged or understood completely.
The air felt different. It was as if Sofia was standing too close to a storm. Then voices echoed from outside, and reality returned. The moment shattered. Dimitri looked away first and opened the bedroom door.
Chaos waited beyond it. Armed soldiers rushed through the corridor, and blood stained the marble floors. Orders echoed through the estate, and questions demanded answers.
Someone had breached Volkov security, and that person was no doubt going to pay for it. Dimitri stepped into the hallway, then paused briefly. He looked back over his shoulder.
Was he making sure she was still there and safe? Maybe Sofia was overthinking things. It was a traumatic night after all, and yet warmth spread through Sofia’s chest anyway. A foolish feeling, one she would absolutely deny if anyone asked.