Chapter 3 - Maksim
I’ve always felt that luck is for people who don’t know how to make their own opportunities, but right now I’m starting to believe in miracles.
Finding Alyssa in a random alley behind a coffee shop feels like the universe finally decided to throw me a bone.
For weeks, I’ve had every resource at my disposal hunting for this woman, and she falls into my lap when I least expect it.
The gods of fortune must be drunk, because this kind of coincidence doesn’t happen in my world.
But the relief of finding her evaporates the moment I see the terror in her green eyes. She’s not just startled to see me; she’s genuinely afraid of something, and that something isn’t me.
I follow her line of sight to the mouth of the alley, where two men stand watching us with matching scowls that scream trouble.
One is younger, maybe late twenties, with the lean build of someone who thinks he’s tougher than he actually is.
He looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
The other looks like muscle for hire—thick shoulders, dead eyes, and a jacket that’s definitely hiding a weapon.
Neither of them belongs in my neighborhood unless they’re here for business. Bad business.
“My ex,” Alyssa whispers after a moment of silence. “He’s been following me for weeks.”
The pieces click together faster. She’s running, which is why I haven’t been able to find her, and these bastards have been hunting her. This ignites something in my chest—a possessive rage that surprises me with its force.
“Which one?” I ask, keeping my voice calm despite the violence brewing under my skin.
“The younger one. Troy.” She says his name like it tastes bitter. “The other guy… I don’t know who he is.”
Troy. I file the name away for later use, along with a mental image of his face. He’s about to learn what happens when someone threatens what’s mine.
The muscle moves first, taking a step toward us with his hand drifting inside his jacket. That’s all the warning I need.
“Hold on tight,” I tell Alyssa, and before she can ask what I mean, I scoop her up in my arms.
She lets out a startled yelp as I lift her against my chest and swoop one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She weighs practically nothing, and that makes my protective instincts roar to life even more.
“Maksim, what are you—”
“Getting you out of here.”
I stride toward the street, carrying her like she’s made of spun glass. Behind us, I hear footsteps on the pavement and voices, but I don’t look back. My car is parked half a block away, and right now, that’s the only destination that matters.
Alyssa wraps her arms around my neck and presses her face against my shoulder. Her body trembles against mine, and her heart is hammering through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Are they following us?” she asks.
I glance over my shoulder. Troy and his friend are keeping pace about twenty feet behind, close enough to track us but far enough to avoid direct confrontation. Smart. They know better than to make a scene in broad daylight on a busy street in Barkov territory.
“They’re there,” I confirm. “But they won’t try anything out here. Too many witnesses.”
My Mercedes sits exactly where I left it, gleaming black paint reflecting the afternoon sun.
I fish the keys from my pocket with one hand while keeping Alyssa secure with the other, then hit the unlock button.
The click of the doors opening is the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all day, besides Alyssa’s voice, of course.
I set her down carefully beside the passenger door, keeping one hand on her waist to steady her. Her legs look wobbly, and the last thing I need is for her to collapse on me.
“Get in,” I tell her as I open the door.
She doesn’t argue. The moment she’s settled in the leather seat, I’m around to the driver’s side, sliding behind the wheel and engaging the locks. The interior of the car feels like a sanctuary—bulletproof glass, reinforced doors, and enough space to think clearly.
Alyssa slumps against the seat, finally allowing herself to breathe. Color slowly returns to her cheeks, though her hands still shake as she smooths her hair back from her face.
“Thank you,” she breathes out. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t—”
“Don’t.” I turn in my seat to face her. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
She nods, but I can see the tension still coiled in her shoulders. Through the windshield, I spot Troy and his companion standing on the sidewalk about fifty yards away, making no effort to hide their surveillance. They’re waiting to see what we do next.
Let them wait.
“Tell me everything,” I prompt. “Start from the beginning.”
For a moment, she just stares at her hands folded in her lap. Then the words start pouring out like water from a broken dam.
“Troy and I dated for about three months. He seemed normal at first—sweet, attentive, all the things you want in a boyfriend. But then I walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to see.”
She describes the scene in Troy’s apartment, the strange men, the money changing hands while her boyfriend stood in the center of it all like some kind of crime boss. My jaw ticks as I listen, imagining her terror in that moment.
“What kind of operation?” I ask.
“I don’t know exactly. Drugs, maybe? Weapons? Whatever it was, it involved a lot of cash and men who looked like they’d kill me for seeing it.”
“So you broke up with him.”
“That night. I thought that would be the end of it.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I was so naive.”
The stalking came next—the constant texts, showing up at her apartment, and following her to work and the grocery store and anywhere else she tried to go. When she went to the police, they brushed her off, which tells me they’d been paid to look the other way.
“I’ve been staying in different hotels every few nights, and I haven’t been to work in weeks,” she continues. “My savings are almost gone, but what choice do I have? Going home means making myself a sitting duck.”
As she talks, I watch her face. The fear is real; it’s obvious in the lines around her eyes and the way she keeps glancing toward the windows.
But there’s something else too—relief. Like she’s been carrying this burden alone for so long that finally having someone to share it with is a physical weight lifted from her shoulders.
“How did he find you today?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I was so careful. I thought I lost him after switching hotels last night.”
“He’s not working alone. Men like that… They have networks. Resources. Ways of tracking people that the average person doesn’t think about.”
Her face pales. “What do you mean?”
“Credit cards, cell phone pings, facial recognition software. If he’s connected to the right people, staying hidden becomes a lot harder.”
“Are you saying I can’t escape him?”
The desperation in her voice nearly breaks me.
She’s been running scared for weeks, burning through her money and her sanity, all because some small-time gangster can’t accept rejection.
The thought of her lying awake in cheap hotel rooms, jumping at every sound, makes me want to hunt Troy down and show him what real fear looks like.
“I’m saying you don’t have to run anymore,” I tell her. “Not from him.”
She squints at me and asks, “What does that mean?”
I reach over and take her hand. Her fingers are ice cold despite the hot day, another sign of how much stress she’s been under.
“It means you’re under my protection now. Troy and his friend out there? They’re about to learn that some people are off limits.”
“Maksim, you don’t understand. He’s dangerous. The men he works with—”
“So am I.”
She flinches as I make the declaration. Good. She needs to understand what she’s dealing with, even if it scares her a little.
“I don’t know what kind of small-time operation Troy thinks he’s running,” I continue, “but it’s nothing compared to what I do. He’s a minnow trying to swim with sharks, and he just made the mistake of targeting something that belongs to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You do now.”
The possessiveness in my voice surprises even me, but I don’t take it back. The moment I saw her terror, the moment I understood what she was running from, something fundamental changed inside me. She’s mine to protect now, mine to keep safe, mine to claim.
She stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder what she sees. A potential savior, or just another dangerous man trying to control her life? The distinction matters less than the outcome—either way, she’s staying with me.
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you how this is going to work.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you go back to running scared while Troy hunts you down like an animal. How’s that working out for you so far?”
She flinches again, but this time, it’s from the truth rather than fear. We both know she’s at the end of her rope, that whatever plan she had for escaping this situation has already failed.
“What do you want in return?” she asks before she bites her bottom lip.
In my world, protection always comes with a price, and she’s smart enough to know it. But what I want from her isn’t something I can demand or negotiate for.
“Dinner,” I answer with a smirk.
“What?”
“You owe me a dinner. The one you turned down in the alley before your stalker showed up.”
That earns me a ghost of a smile, the first real emotion I’ve seen from her since the terror in the alley. “That’s it? Just dinner?”
“That’s it. For now.”
The qualifier hangs between us like a promise and a threat. She knows as well as I do that this won’t end with a single meal, that accepting my protection means accepting me into her life in ways she probably isn’t ready for.
But she’s out of options, and we both know it.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll have dinner with you. And okay to… the other thing. The protection.”
Satisfaction spreads through my chest like warm whiskey. She’s mine now, even if she doesn’t fully understand what that means yet. Troy and his little gang are about to learn a very expensive lesson about respect and boundaries.
I squeeze her hand. “That’s my good little kitten.”
Through the windshield, I can still see Troy and his muscle standing on the sidewalk, watching us with the patience of predators. They think they’re hunting, but they’re about to become the prey.
I reach for the ignition, already planning our route.
This is my city, so no matter where I take her, she won’t be in danger.
I’ll take her somewhere she’ll be comfortable and feel safe, where we can talk without interruption, and where I can start figuring out exactly how deep Troy’s organization runs.
Because make no mistake—this is war now. Troy started this war the moment he decided to terrorize what’s mine.
And I’ve never lost a war.