27. Sophia
TWENTY-SEVEN
SOPHIA
W ith the adrenaline surging through my veins, I shove Maxim so hard, he stumbles back, crashing into the hood of his car. “What the fuck is so funny?” I growl, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension. He tries to stand up straight, but I shove him again. This time, he doesn’t falter. He stands his ground.
Anger—rage, pure and consuming—pulses through me. I want to tear him apart for the shit he’s trying to pull. Does he seriously think I’m that stupid?
“Please, Sophia. Let me explain.” His hands are outstretched, surrendering to me, but I’m not listening.
I throw my arms wide in a sweeping gesture, my words laced with bitter sarcasm. “Explain yourself?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re not seriously asking to explain yourself right now? You had the chance to tell me everything just twenty seconds ago, and you didn’t. I told you—if I got out of that car, we were done.” Tears—bitter, burning tears—spring to my eyes. “You’re too late. All I want from you now is to leave.”
He closes the distance between us in one long stride. I try to pull away, but before I can move, he grabs my hair, his fist tightening around the strands, pulling me closer until our foreheads touch. His eyes—desperate, pleading—hold mine. “Sophia, please.”
I close my eyes, feeling the sting of a tear as it falls down my cheek. My defenses start to rise, but his touch makes them tremble. “You don’t get to stand here,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You don’t get to look at me with those puppy dog eyes and expect anything from me.”
“Look at me, Sophia. Please. Let me explain.”
“No.” I shake my head, refusing to meet his gaze. “I will not look at you.” The words feel heavy in my chest, suffocating. “I refuse to look into the eyes of the person who lied to me, who broke my heart, who has no trust in me—or in us—after everything we’ve been through. I don’t want to look at the person who refuses to believe we can face whatever comes our way together.”
His body tightens, but I don’t care. “I gave you the chance to explain earlier,” I continue, my words sharp like knives. “Instead of opening up to me, you made up some ridiculous excuse about leaving the country. Are you really that dense, Maxim? Do you honestly think you’d protect me by ending things?”
I slam my palms against his chest, pushing with everything I have. “The invisible target you think I have on my back won’t just vanish because you think you’re leaving. Everyone knows I’m your weakness. You’ve never been subtle about how much you love me. The people you’re trying to protect me from—they’re still going to use me to get to you, even if they think you left for Russia or ended our relationship. They know you’ll come for me. They know you can’t stay away.”
The realization hits me before I even see the droplets. I open my eyes to find him crying—silent tears cascading down his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I shake my head. The pain in my chest is unbearable. “Sorry isn’t going to fix this, Maxim.”
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, his hold on my hair pulling me back to him. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” he says in a broken voice. “I love you. Please, don’t shut me out. Let me explain.”
Before I can process what he’s said, his lips crash onto mine. For a moment, I forget everything—the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. I let his kiss consume me, but only for a moment. Everything comes rushing back—the anger, the heartbreak.
“Stop!” I scream, slamming my palms against his chest, using every bit of strength I have left. “Stop!”
He releases me, but my heart feels like it’s cracking in two.
“We’re done, Maxim,” I say, my voice shaking. I gesture to him, then to myself. “You let me walk out of that fucking car. You can’t expect to get any part of me after that.”
The tears I’ve been holding back—waiting until I was alone—finally fall. I don’t try to stop them. They burn down my cheeks as I stare at him, my heart shattering with every second that ticks by.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. I didn’t think this through.”
I close my eyes, my body heavy, my spirit exhausted. “No. You didn’t, Maxim. You couldn’t get past the need to keep me safe.”
I scoff bitterly, shaking my head. “You would rather destroy us than be honest with me. You’d rather end everything between us than let me fight by your side. Do you know what the worst part is?”
His silence is deafening.
“I thought your obsession with my safety had ended,” I whisper, the pain lacing my words. “We had the conversation. I told you I could protect myself. So why the hell did you start training me? Why did you fill my head with endless ‘what if’ scenarios? If you were still going to try to be the hero of my story, every damn chance you got.” I pause, breath catching in my throat. “For fuck’s sake, you saw me defend myself against Danny the other day.”
Maxim runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep, pained breath, his eyes closing, as though the weight of his guilt is too much to bear.
“If there’s nothing else left to say, please leave.” My voice is cold, but my chest is tight, suffocating from the tension between us. I turn to head back inside, but before I can move, he grabs my wrist, his grip firm.
“Maxim, please, let me go.” My voice trembles as I speak, and it takes everything in me to keep my composure.
“I’m sorry about the way I handled the situation, but I’m not sorry for why I did it. Your safety is my number one fucking priority. It is my only priority.” He sounds desperate, but I won’t let it sway me. “I’m sorry if that makes you angry, but for my own peace?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.” My heart races, my voice breaking with the weight of every word. “Don’t you dare use my own trauma to justify your obsession with my safety again, Maxim Volkov.” I spit the words out like venom, hoping he hears the rage and contempt in my voice.
The sound of slow clapping interrupts us, and both Maxim and I turn sharply toward the noise. A familiar voice rings out, dripping with sarcasm. “You guys truly know how to put on a show.”
I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to regain my composure while simultaneously pulling my arm free from Maxim’s grip before Luca and Andrei get any closer.
They arrived faster than I expected. After I left Maxim in the hospital room, I called Luca first to ask if he knew what was wrong with him. Maxim had looked haunted—his eyes lingered in my mind, filled with something I couldn’t shake. I knew the accident had rattled him, but there was something darker beneath the surface. Luca mentioned Andrei told him Maxim had lost it earlier and destroyed his office, and we both realized this was about more than just my accident. Something was driving Maxim to the edge.
Luca suggested searching through Maxim’s papers and computer files for any clues involving Andrei. It wasn’t my place to tell Luca Maxim was worried his brother might have been involved in my kidnapping. I wasn’t sure if Maxim had told Luca himself, so I stayed quiet and agreed when he said he’d call Andrei. We all decided to meet up at my house and try to piece together whatever the hell was going on with Maxim.
I’d thought they would take longer to get here—Luca had said he was two hours away, but maybe it has already been longer. Time hasn’t been my priority.
“Was there a need to slow clap like you’re in some shitty ‘90s movie?” Andrei asks Luca. His expression pinched in irritation.
Luca winks. “I need to make an entrance.”
Andrei sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Of course you do.”
Maxim shifts slightly, shooting daggers at them with his glare before letting go of my arm. “What the fuck are you morons doing here?”
“I told them both to come,” I answer Maxim, preparing for another fight, but to my surprise, it doesn’t come.
“You invited them?” His voice cracks with disbelief, the words laced with a raw edge of anger. His eyes widen, and I can see the hurt flashing in them—like a knife twisting in his gut.
Luca places a hand on his chest in mock offense, his face exaggerated in pain. “You wound me, Volkov.”
I roll my eyes, already regretting asking them to come. Maxim’s lips press into a thin, taut line, and he turns his attention back to me.
I look at Andrei and Luca, giving them a subtle nod to follow me inside. “We’ll meet you inside.”
Luca steps closer, stopping between Maxim and me, his voice lowering in a teasing tone. “I suggest you guys wrap up whatever telenovela you’re trying to recreate.” He jerks his head toward the street, and I follow his gaze. A few of my neighbors stand on their lawns, some peeking through their windows. “Before the real cops make a cameo in your show.” Luca turns and strides toward the door, clearly done with the spectacle.
I inhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation press down on me. I’m definitely going to regret asking Luca to come.
Maxim stands up so quickly, I don’t even have a chance to take a step back before he grabs me, pulling me against him and wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. His scent—whiskey with a hint of sandalwood—envelopes my senses, and for a brief moment, I find myself wishing what happened earlier didn’t happen.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, his voice heavy with regret.
“As am I,” I croak out, trying to hold myself together but failing miserably. The tears threaten to break free, and I can’t stop them. Maxim tries to reach for me again, probably to console me, but I turn away sharply, walking towards the door before he can do anything.
No matter how much my heart aches right now, I refuse to be with him when it’s painfully clear how easily he destroys our relationship for the sake of his own sanity, using my safety as an excuse. I’m done with all the half-truths, the lies, and the secrets he thinks he can keep from me. I’ve had enough.
If I’m honest with myself, this was always going to happen between us. Maxim and I have a mountain of issues, both as individuals and as a couple, and instead of facing them head-on, we’ve just slapped a bandage on everything and expected the wounds to heal on their own.
We used sex to escape our problems, to bury everything under a veil of pleasure. What good has that done us? Nothing. It only made the silence louder and the distance between us greater.
I’m not just blaming Maxim for all of this. I played my part in this mess too. I used sex as a way to escape my own demons, pushing Maxim to his breaking point without considering he wasn’t ready. I was so caught up in my own grief, I didn’t stop to think about him. It’s hard to swallow, realizing I was the one who set the dominoes in motion.
“Are you alright?” Andrei asks, his voice soft as I sit down in the farthest chair away from them in my living room.
“No.” I huff out the word. I was going to say yes, but I just don’t have the energy to lie right now. And it’s not like my face is hiding the devastation I feel.
“It will all be—” Andrei starts to say, but Luca interrupts with a sarcastic, raised eyebrow and a pointed look.
“Don’t fucking say ‘it will be alright,’ Andrei. You’re not a psychic. You can’t just say that and make everything better.”
“I was trying to—” Andrei begins to defend himself, but Luca cuts him off again.
“No positivity is needed or wanted right now.” Luca gestures toward me with a sweeping motion. “Does she look like she’s in the mood for your bullshit?”
“I’m not in the mood for either of your shit right now,” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “So shut the fuck up or take it outside.”
Luca clicks his tongue three times in mock disappointment. “Someone’s a little testy.” He smirks at me, and I narrow my eyes, glaring at him.
“Is this some kind of intervention?” Maxim’s voice breaks through, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway. My breath catches in my throat when I take in his appearance—his bloody, cracked knuckles, his swollen lip, the bump on his head. I know I caused the lip and bumpwith the luggage, but his knuckles? Those are from something else. If I know Maxim, he took his anger out on a wall.
Andrei jumps up, rushing to Maxim’s side as he stumbles forward, but Maxim shrugs him off with a quick shake of his head. “I’m fucking fine.”
“You’re clearly not.” Luca’s voice is dry with sarcasm as he shoots Maxim a pointed look. “But if you want to keep pretending, take a seat, and let’s get on with it.” Maxim rolls his eyes at Luca’s comment, shaking his head, but instead of sitting next to me, he walks toward the dining room. He grabs a chair, drags it into the living room, and sits across from me, next to Andrei, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“What are they doing here, Sophia?” Maxim asks, his voice rough, but his eyes avoid mine.
“For you, Maxim,” I reply, my voice flat, empty of all emotion. I don’t even want to look at him right now.
“What about me?” Maxim’s voice is low, almost strained, his frustration palpable.
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to get my thoughts in order.
“Sophia is worried about you, Maxim. We’re all worried about you,” Andrei says, beating me to the punch.
“Not me. I’m just here for the food.” Luca’s remark doesn’t warrant a response, and I’m too numb to bother.
Andrei doesn’t pause. “After you left, I tried to clean up the mess you made and found a letter that sparked my interest.” He opened a folder I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying, pulled out papers, and spread them on the coffee table.
Maxim stands abruptly from his chair, his movements quick and angry. He strides over to Andrei and yanks him up by his shirt, the raw fury in his eyes unmistakable. “What gave you the fucking right to go through my things?”
“Maxim, stop,” I beg, but my voice is small, barely above a whisper. I catch Luca moving out of the corner of my eye, his stance shifting.
Andrei holds up a hand, his gaze never leaving Maxim’s. “If you wouldn’t keep things from your brother and your girlfriend, I wouldn’t have to go behind your back to look for answers.”
“More like ex-girlfriend,” I mutter, the words barely audible but apparently not quiet enough. I forget I’m in a room with three trained killers. My face turns beet red as three sets of eyes snap toward me. Maxim’s stare is particularly intense, like a physical weight. I freeze, my breath catching. Shit. Why did I say that?
“Awkward,” Luca says in a singsong voice, breaking the silence with a laugh. “Anyone going to tell me what made the gorilla so mad?”
A snort escapes me before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my mouth, mortified. The image of Maxim as Donkey Kong throwing barrels flashes in my mind, and it almost makes me laugh out loud. But this is not the time for laughter, Sophia. Get it together.
“You’re the bane of my existence,” Maxim says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh as he lowers Andrei’s feet back to the floor.
“You’re going to make me fall in love with you if you keep up with the flattery, Maxim.” Luca blows him a few dramatic kisses.
Maxim closes his eyes and takes a few steadying breaths before finally, reluctantly, opening up. He begins to share everything—the letters, the information he’s been keeping from Andrei and me. It takes nearly an hour to lay it all out, the weight of his secrets crashing down on us. From the first letter to the last, everything he found hidden in my home—and everything in between.
By the time he’s done, I feel like I’ve just run a 5k, downed a few sleeping pills, drank ten cups of coffee with extra sugar, and knocked back a bottle of tequila all by myself. My body is drained. My mind is spinning. The emotions inside me are too much to process. After the fight earlier, I thought I might’ve overreacted when he mentioned Russia. I could see the regret in his eyes, as if he was going to apologize, but I was too angry to stop. I’m glad I didn’t stop. Maxim has been carrying all of this for months, focusing only on my safety. I didn’t overreact. Now, I feel like maybe I underreacted.
The room falls into a heavy silence, the kind that makes you uncomfortable just being in it. Even Luca, who always has a sarcastic remark, is quiet. Andrei’s mouth opens and closes, as if he has too many questions and can’t decide which one to ask first. He looks like he’s in shock, and I feel the exhaustion hit me in full force. I glance at the clock—it’s 2 AM. No wonder I’m so tired.
Maxim follows my gaze to the clock, and without a word, he stands up. Andrei and Luca mirror him. “Let’s continue this tomorrow,” Maxim says as he walks toward the door and opens it for them. “A good night’s rest might do us some good. Tomorrow, we can go over all the emails and letters. Maybe you guys will catch something I missed.”
Everyone agrees, and after Luca and Andrei say their goodbyes, they get in their cars and drive off. Neither Maxim nor I move until their cars are out of sight. Maxim stands frozen, like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do with himself. I’m too tired to feel sorry for him right now. Why should I? He made his bed; now, he has to lie in it.
“Goodnight, Maxim.”
His pleading eyes meet mine for a brief moment before I slam the door in his face.
“If I have to spend the rest of my life apologizing and trying to make up for my stupid mistake, then that’s what I’ll do. I promise,” Maxim’s tearful, broken voice echoes through the door.
I press my forehead to the door, crossing my arms tightly around myself, trying to hold it together—but it’s futile. Tears begin to fall freely, unstoppable, as the wall I built around my heart during our argument crumbles. The weight of everything he said, of everything we’re facing, is too much. The pressure finally bursts, and all the emotions I’ve been holding flood to the surface.
“Same song, different tune,” I murmur, not caring if he hears me. I’m done for the night.
I know Maxim and I have a long, deep conversation ahead of us, but it’s not going to happen tonight. Right now, all I want is a hot shower and the comfort of my bed. Nothing else matters.
I’m so fucking over tonight. Tomorrow might be better, but with the people I’ve surrounded myself with, I highly doubt it.