Chapter 46
PETYR
Sima drifts off beside me, but I’m wide awake. My arm stays locked around her waist, my hand pressed under her ribs so I can feel every slight rise and fall of her chest.
Normally, she fights sleep and talks until her words blur together, tossing out sarcastic quips even with her eyes half-shut. Tonight? Nothing. Not a word. Just silence.
Something’s wrong. I know it, the way I know when a deal is about to go bad or when a man across the table is lying through his teeth. My instincts don’t lie. And right now, they’re screaming at me, louder with every passing minute I sit here listening to her even breathing while my thoughts churn.
She said she had a migraine, but I’ve seen her push through headaches, exhaustion, everything.
Sima isn’t fragile. She doesn’t go quiet like this.
She doesn’t retreat into herself and shut me out.
The fact that she won’t tell me what’s actually gnawing at her is infuriating.
I thought I’d earned at least that much from her by now.
Except that you didn’t. She never tells you the full truth, remember?
I want to silence that ugly voice inside me, but for once, I can’t make the world do my bidding. Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? Sima lies. To me, to her friends, to everyone. She lies about her past, her name, who she is.
Somewhere along the line, I told myself that didn’t matter. That I saw her for who she truly was, even if she didn’t trust me enough to tell me. That that was enough for the time being.
Now, gritting my teeth in the darkness of our penthouse bedroom, I’m not so sure anymore. Because if she won’t share with me, then I can’t know what’s wrong or who made it that way.
Which means I can’t punish them.
I’m not the overthinking type. If anything, I’m the underthinker of the family. Otets never failed to remark on that. I’m pure instinct in a suit.
And right now, that instinct is telling me that someone hurt my wife.
Was it her friend? Did she say something over lunch? Jemma—that’s her name. I know Sima trusts her. Too much, maybe. If she figured out the truth and told Sima she’s in over her head, that she ought to cut her losses and run, then that would explain her gloomy mood.
Or maybe this isn’t about Jemma at all. Maybe Sima’s pulling back all on her own. Because she can’t forget who I am, what I am. All that I’ve done and all that I’ll keep doing.
A war with her family isn’t some distant possibility anymore. It’s a storm already brewing, and Sima is smart enough to hear the thunder before anyone else.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes against the nightstand. The screen lights up: Uncle Ivan. I grit my teeth, careful not to wake Sima as I slide my arm out from under her and sit up.
I answer quietly, “What is it?”
Ivan’s gravelly tone comes through the line. “I’ve set up a meeting with Boris. Tomorrow night. He’s desperate for support.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Tomorrow night.” I glance at Sima’s sleeping form, the way her hair spills across the pillow like a dark halo. “Alright. I don’t want delays, Ivan. We handle it and we’re done.”
“Boris is losing men,” Ivan reminds me. “The Danilos are picking them off. If we don’t intervene, he’ll fold. And that hurts all of us. He’s already afraid he’s lost control of his streets.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. My leg won’t stop bouncing against the floor. “I know. But Sima—” I stop myself, jaw locking. He doesn’t need to hear this part. My concerns about her don’t belong in this conversation, even if they’re clawing me open inside.
Ivan waits a beat, like he can hear the hesitation I’m choking back. “You’ll be there?”
I exhale. “I’ll be there. Tell Lev and Mikhael to clear their schedules. I want them with me.”
“Understood.” Ivan’s voice is clipped, efficient, already moving on. “We’ll meet at the warehouse. I’ll send the details.”
“Fine.” I hang up before he can say anything else, before he can hear the edge in my voice that betrays too much.
I stare at the phone in my hand for a long moment, then set it back down like it’s heavier than it was a minute ago. My fists clench against my thighs. I don’t want to leave her. But I don’t have the luxury of choosing.
Driving the Danilos out of my territory is the only way to secure her safety. And if it means tearing them apart with my own hands, I’ll do it gladly.
If her family knew I had her—that she’s mine now—they’d try to take her. The very thought makes my blood run hot, fury simmering low and steady.
No one takes what’s mine.
Not her family.
Not anyone.