Chapter 19 Vera
VERA
Freedom tastes like leather-bound books and afternoon sunlight.
I’m back in the library and sitting in the window seat (the first time I’ve been allowed out of my room in five days) with a worn copy of The Bronze Horseman open in my lap.
The story of Tatiana and Alexander has always been one of my favorites, epic and tragic and beautiful.
Two people who shouldn’t be together, separated by war and circumstance and impossible choices.
Fitting, really.
I try to focus on the words, on Tatiana’s first glimpse of Alexander in the Summer Garden, but my mind keeps drifting to the man currently holed up in his office downstairs. To the way he held me last night, his face buried in my hair, his comforting weight surrounding me.
To the fact that somewhere in the last two weeks, Dimitri Volkov has completely wormed his way into my heart.
I don’t know when it happened, but holy shit am I in trouble. Because I’m falling for Dimitri. Have fallen, really. Past tense. Done deal.
And the most shocking part? I haven’t thought about Alexei in days.
I wince at the realization, my fingers tightening around the edges of the book. I’ve been so consumed with Dimitri—with our growing intimacy, with the pregnancy scare, with learning to trust him—that Alexei has become almost... background noise. A sad memory instead of an open wound.
I should feel guilty that I’m forgetting the man I thought I loved, the father of my baby. But I don’t feel guilty. And that makes my stomach turn unpleasantly.
My phone buzzes on the cushion beside me, making me jump. I’ve had it back for a week now. Dimitri returned it after the lockdown started since I’m not contacting anyone anyway. Not that there’s anyone to contact.
I pick up the phone absently, expecting it to be Mrs. Kozlov asking if I want lunch. But it’s a text from an unknown number.
I frown and open it.
The words on the screen make my blood turn to ice.
I’m still watching. You were always mine.
I stare at the message, reading it over and over like the words might rearrange themselves into something less threatening. But they don’t change.
I’m still watching.
Someone’s watching me. Right now. Somewhere.
My eyes dart to the library windows—floor-to-ceiling glass that looks out onto the grounds. Anyone could be out there. In the trees. Behind the garden wall. Looking in.
You were always mine.
What the fuck does that mean? Who would say that? The bomber? The person who tried to kill us in the car?
My hands shake as I clutch the phone. The library suddenly feels too big, too exposed. All that glass. All those places someone could be watching from.
I need Dimitri.
I’m on my feet before I realize it and the book tumbles forgotten to the floor. My heart pounds as I rush downstairs toward his office, my feet barely making a sound on the marble.
I don’t bother knocking. I burst through the door like something’s chasing me.
Dimitri’s head jerks up from his desk, already half-standing. “Vera? What—”
I thrust the phone at him, unable to speak. He takes it, and I watch his face transform as he reads the message. The concern shifts to something cold and lethal barely contained rage.
“When did you get this?” His voice is deadly calm.
I take a deep, steadying breath even though my whole body feels like I’ve just run a marathon. “Just now. Maybe two minutes ago.”
He’s already moving, pulling his own phone from his pocket and dialing. “Stay here,” he orders. “Lock the door behind me.”
I blanch. “What? No—”
But he’s already talking into the phone in rapid-fire Russian that I can’t follow. He strides to the window and yanks the curtains closed with more force than necessary, then does the same to the other windows.
“Yes, now,” he snaps into the phone. “I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing. Get him on the line in the next sixty seconds or you’re fired.”
He hangs up and immediately starts dialing again. This time when someone answers, he doesn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“I need a trace on a number. Unknown sender. Text message sent…” He checks my phone. “Three minutes ago.” He rattles off my phone number, then the unknown sender’s number from the message. “I want location, carrier information, everything. And I want it now.”
He listens for a moment, his jaw clenching. “I don’t care if it’s a burner. Trace it anyway. There’s always a digital footprint.”
When he hangs up, the silence is deafening. He stands there staring at my phone like it might explode, his shoulders rigid with tension.
“Dimitri?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He turns to look at me, and the raw fury in his eyes makes me take a step back. Not because I’m afraid of him (I’m not), but because I’ve never seen him look so... angry.
“This isn’t random,” he says flatly, clenching my phone in his hand. “This isn’t a wrong number or some creep who got your information. This is—”
“The person who wants us dead.” I finish his sentence because I already know. I’ve known it since I read those words.
I’m still watching. You were always mine.
“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling beads of sweat erupt on my forehead. “‘You were always mine’—what does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting those dark waves. If it were a different time, I would tell him how much I like that he’s grown his hair out. “But I’m going to find out.”
His phone rings and he answers it before the first ring finishes. “Tell me you have something,” he barks into the receiver.
Whatever the person on the other end says makes his expression darken further. He listens for a long moment, then, “I see. And the phone itself?”
More listening. He scowls.
“Fine. Keep looking. Check every tower in the area. I want to know where that signal originated.” He hangs up and looks at me, his eyes stormy. “Fucking burner phone and it’s already shut off. They knew we’d trace it.”
Of course they did. Whoever this is, they’re smart. Careful. They’ve been one step ahead this entire time.
“So what do we do?” I ask, my mouth suddenly dry.
Dimitri is quiet for a long moment, staring at my phone like it holds answers he can’t quite see. Then he sets it down on his desk and looks at me.
“We’ve been in lockdown for two weeks,” he says. “That’s long enough.”
My stomach drops. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying whoever is targeting us knows we’re here. They know where we are, what we’re doing. That text proves it.” He starts to pace as it’s clear he’s speaking a plan that’s formulating in real time. “We’re never going to find them if we sit behind these walls. We need to draw them out.”
“Draw them out,” I repeat slowly. “You mean... set a trap.”
Dimitri nods. “Yes.”
“Are you insane?” The words burst out of me before I can stop them. “Someone just sent me a message saying they’re watching me. And you want to what—go outside? Make ourselves targets?”
“We’re already targets, Vera. Hiding isn’t keeping us safe. It’s just delaying the inevitable.”
He moves closer, taking my hands in his. The touch grounds me, even as my heart races with fear.
“We’ll go somewhere public,” he continues as I gape at him.
“Heavily guarded, but public. Somewhere they’d feel confident making a move.
” He looks thoughtful as something clearly crosses his mind.
“The mall, maybe? Yes, that’ll do it. There’s lots of civilians and exits.
It’s the kind of place someone would feel safe trying something. ”
This is madness. “This is crazy,” I whisper, unable to believe what I’m hearing. Dimitri has spent so long keeping me under lock and key for my ‘safety’ but now he wants to take us out into the world like we’re sitting ducks?
“Probably.” He squeezes my hands. “But I’m tired of waiting for them to come to us. I’m tired of living in fear. Aren’t you?”
I am. God, I am so tired of it. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder and wondering when the next attack will come.
But going to the mall? Deliberately putting ourselves in danger?
“What if something goes wrong?” I ask, hating how weak I sound.
But Dimitri is shaking his head. “It won’t.”
I raise a brow at him. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” he admits. “I can’t. But I can promise you that I’ll have six of my best men with us. Men I trust with my life and yours. We’ll maintain a perimeter and stay in public spaces. At the first sign of trouble, we abort.”
I want to say no. I want to tell him this is reckless and dangerous and a terrible idea.
But he’s right. We can’t hide forever. And maybe—maybe if we can draw this person out, we can finally end this and finally be safe.
Finally have a chance at... whatever this thing between us is becoming.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Okay, we’ll do it.”
Relief flashes across his handsome face, quickly masked. “Tomorrow morning. I need time to coordinate security, plan the route, and identify safe zones.”
Wait, this is too soon but what choice do I have? “Tomorrow,” I echo numbly, swallowing heavily.
What have I just agreed to?
The next morning arrives too quickly.
I stand in front of my closet, staring at my clothes like they might offer some guidance. What does one wear to potentially get attacked at a mall?
I settle on dark wash jeans and a dark blue colored sweater.
I tap my finger against my lips as I survey my shoe options.
Do I wear heels? I dismiss that thought immediately.
It’s impractical. I then look at my flats versus sneakers.
I decide on sneakers because I might need to run. The thought makes my stomach churn.
When I come downstairs, Dimitri is waiting in the foyer. He’s dressed similarly casual—black jeans, gray henley, and leather jacket. But there’s nothing casual about the way he’s standing. Alert. Ready. Every line of his body screams controlled violence waiting to be unleashed.
His eyes sweep over me when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and his expression softens. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.