Chapter 12
Mikhail
Ididn't sleep that night.
I lay in my own bed for the first time in days, staring at the ceiling, my mind working through every possible angle.
Every scenario ended the same way: I needed to marry Shanice, and I needed to do it fast. But forcing her would break something between us.
Something fragile and brand new that I wasn't willing to destroy.
A thing I wanted—a relationship with her.
Around three in the morning, I heard it. A cry from down the hall. I was on my feet and moving before I'd consciously decided to. Her door was closed, but I could hear her through it. Whimpering. Caught in another nightmare.
I opened the door quietly. She was tangled in her sheets, her face tight with distress, her body curled into itself like she was trying to make herself small.
"No," she mumbled. "Please, no."
I crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Shanice. Wake up."
She jerked awake with a gasp, her eyes wide and unfocused. It took her a moment to see me, to recognize where she was.
"Mikhail," she breathed.
"Just a dream," I said softly. "You're safe."
She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. "They keep coming back. The nightmares. I thought they were getting better, but tonight..."
"Tonight was bad?"
She nodded, not meeting my eyes. "I was back in the warehouse. But this time you didn't come. No one came. And I just kept waiting and waiting and..."
Her voice broke.
I pulled her into my arms without thinking, tucking her head under my chin. She melted into me, her fingers clutching my shirt.
"I'm here," I murmured. "I'll always come for you. Always."
We sat like that for a long time, her breathing gradually evening out, her body relaxing against mine.
"Can I ask you something?" she said quietly.
"Anything."
"Why did you volunteer to be my guard? Really?"
I was quiet for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "Because the alternative was watching someone else do it. And I couldn't stand the thought of that."
"Why not?"
"Because you're mine to protect." I pulled back enough to look at her.
"I know you don't want to hear that. I know you want independence and normalcy and all the things I can't give you.
But it's the truth. From the moment I helped you out of that warehouse, you've been mine.
I've meant every word I've ever told you about how I feel. ‘Really’ doesn't apply."
She stared at me, her eyes searching my face. "That's crazy."
"Probably."
"And possessive."
"Definitely."
"And completely overwhelming."
"Yes." I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "But it's also the truth. So you can fight it, or you can accept it. But it's not changing."
"What if I don't want to be owned?"
"Then we'll find another word for it." I held her gaze. "But the feeling doesn't change, Shanice. I protect what's mine. I provide for what's mine. I eliminate threats to what's mine. That's who I am."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "What if there was a threat you couldn't eliminate?"
My whole body went still. "What do you mean?"
"I heard Olek on the phone earlier. When I was coming down for dinner. He was speaking Russian, but I heard my name. And the word 'problem.'" She pulled back, looking at me directly. "Am I in danger again? Is someone coming for me?"
Fuck.
I'd underestimated her. She was sharper than I'd given her credit for.
"There are concerns," I said carefully. "But nothing I can't handle."
"What kind of concerns?"
"The kind that doesn't matter because I'm going to fix them."
"Mikhail." Her voice was firm now. "Don't treat me like a child. If I'm in danger, I deserve to know."
She was right. She did deserve to know. But how much could I tell her without terrifying her? Without making her feel trapped?
"The police found Marcus’ body," I said finally. "There are people in our family who are worried that you might talk."
Her eyes widened. "Talk? To the police?"
"You're a witness, Shanice. You saw what happened. And you're not one of us. There's nothing binding you to silence."
"I would never—" She stopped, understanding dawning in her expression. "They think I'll betray you."
"Some do."
"And what do they want to do about it?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't force the words out.
Her face went pale. "They want to kill me."
"That's not going to happen." My voice came out hard, absolute. "I won't let it."
"How? How can you stop them if that's what they've decided?"
This was it. The moment I had to make a choice. Tell her the truth and risk scaring her away, or lie and protect her from the reality of what was coming.
I chose the truth.
"By making you family," I said. "By binding you to us in a way that makes you untouchable."
She stared at me. "What does that mean?"
"It means marriage." The word hung between us, heavy and irrevocable. "If you're my wife, you're protected by our laws. And you can't testify against your husband."
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Didn't move. Just looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
Then she laughed.
Not the happy, warm laugh I loved. This was bitter. Sharp.
"So that's what this has all been about," she said, pulling away from me. "The protection. The dinners. The touching and the teasing and the making me want you. It was all just a setup for this. For trapping me."
"No." I reached for her, but she stood, putting distance between us. "That's not what this is."
"Really? Because it sounds exactly like what this is." She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes bright with anger and unshed tears. "You need me to marry you to solve a problem. And you've been softening me up, making me care about you, so I'd say yes."
"I do want you to say yes," I said, standing. "But not because I've been manipulating you. Because I actually want to marry you, Shanice. I want you as my wife. This situation just gave me a reason to ask sooner rather than later."
"Convenient timing."
"Shitty timing, actually." I moved toward her slowly. "Because now you think I'm only asking because I have to. But I was always going to ask. I told you that. I told you I was going to ask for more, and I meant it."
"How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to know this is real and not just you protecting an asset?"
The word 'asset' made me flinch. "You think that's all you are to me?"
"I don't know what I am to you." Her voice rose, anger bleeding through. "I thought I was starting to figure it out, but all I know is that once again, someone else is making decisions about my life. Once again, I don't get a choice. I have to give up what I want to stay safe."
"Shanice—"
"No." She held up a hand, her whole body trembling with rage.
"Do you know what I've given up? Everything.
I gave up my apartment. My independence.
My sense of safety. I put off school for years to help raise Zara because Katrina needed me.
And now, just when I'm finally getting my life back, just when I'm doing something for myself, you're telling me I have to give that up too.
I have to become your wife and what? Just accept it? "
"It's not like that."
"Yes, it is." Tears spilled down her cheeks now, hot and furious.
"It's exactly like that. And the worst part is, you're right.
I don't have a choice. Because if I say no, they'll kill me.
Or you'll have to send me away. I'll lose Katrina, Zara, and everything I have left.
So what kind of choice is that, Mikhail? "
My chest felt like it was caving in. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't give me back my life." She moved to the door, yanking it open. "Get out."
"Shanice…"
"Get. Out." Her voice was ice. "I can't look at you right now. I can't be in the same room as you. So just go."
I wanted to argue, to stay and fight, then make her understand.
But the look in her eyes stopped me. She was hurting, and probably felt like she was being pushed into a corner.
That I’d taken away her choices just like everyone else had.
So I walked out of her room and closed the door behind me.
I’d give her time. That’s why I didn't go far.
I sank down against the wall opposite her door, my back against the cold surface, and stayed there all night. I listened for nightmares or any sign she needed me, though she'd made it clear she didn't want me there.
I heard her crying around four, pacing around five, and the shower turned on at six. And through it all, I stayed. Because even if she hated me, even if she never forgave me, I'd still protect her. That's what you did for the people you loved. The word hit me like a freight train. Did I love her?
Fuck.
At seven, her door opened.
She stepped out, dressed for class, her eyes red rimmed but dry. She saw me sitting there and stopped. For a moment, we just looked at each other.
"Good morning," I said quietly. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes. I need to change."
I stood, not looking at her directly, not trying to justify or explain.
What was there to say? She was right about everything.
I walked past her to my room, showered quickly, and changed into fresh clothes.
When I came downstairs, she was waiting by the door, her bag over her shoulder, her expression blank.
We drove to campus in silence. I didn't try to fill it with conversation or make excuses to fix what I'd broken.
I just drove. When we arrived, she got out without a word and headed to her first class.
I followed at a distance, took up my position outside the classroom, and pulled out my phone.
I had three days to figure out how to protect Shanice without forcing her into a marriage she didn't want.
Then prove to her that she was more than just a problem I needed to solve.
I started making calls. There had to be another way. I just had to find it.