17. Damian
DAMIAN
T he drive back from the doctor's office feels like every other security detail I've run in the past fifteen years—routine surveillance, constant awareness, controlled environment. Except nothing about this is routine, and I'm lying to myself if I pretend otherwise.
I keep catching glimpses of Sienna out of the corner of my eye as I drive her to the pharmacy, and then start back toward the estate.
She's staring out the window, her prescription bottle clutched in her delicate hands from when she was studying it a moment ago, and something about the vulnerable curve of her shoulders makes my chest tight.
The way she thanked me earlier, so genuine and soft, keeps replaying in my head like a broken record.
It's my job, I told her. The words tasted like ash in my mouth.
It doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like something else, like something I’ve wanted for a long time and taught myself to stop. Like something I’m not allowed to have.
I’ve had to avoid her entirely just to keep from touching her again.
I’ve dreamt of her every fucking night—of how it felt to kiss her, of how her mouth felt around my cock, of how she tasted on my tongue.
The dreams stop before I get to fuck her, every time, because now I have something real to dream about.
Something we’ve done. Something easy to imagine, and fuck , if I’m not imagining it every second that my mind isn’t occupied with something else.
I’ve jerked off twice a day since then, sometimes more, rock-hard every time I think about her. It hasn’t taken the edge off. It hasn’t eased anything. And God , I need her so fucking badly that sometimes it hurts to breathe.
And then there’s the rest of it. If it was just lust, I’d keep a tight rein on myself until it was time to let her go, and then fuck her out of my system with as many women as it took. But that afternoon by the pool…
I don’t spend time around children. I’ve avoided them most of my life. I’ve still been wrapping my head around what it’s going to be like to have a baby around all of the time after Valentina has her child. But Adam…
That kid asking me if I could teach him how to dive cut right through all the armor I’ve built up over the years.
I should have walked away instead of saying yes, but I didn’t want to.
Just like those moments with Sienna, I gave in to something I wanted, something I’ve been denying myself.
And it didn’t take long to realize that teaching a kid to swim was the most peaceful I'd felt in years.
I've been telling myself since the beginning that this marriage is temporary, that once the Russo threat is eliminated, I'll file for divorce and go back to my solitary existence. But every day that passes, that plan feels less like a solution, and more like a barrel of a gun that I’m staring down.
I need Sienna out of my life, so things can go back to normal. But the truth is, I don't want to let her go.
The truth is, I'm falling for my wife, and it terrifies me more than any bullet or blade ever has.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss the black sedan that's been following us for the past six blocks. Almost.
My blood turns to ice as I recognize the license plate from the intelligence briefings Konstantin's been showing me. I’ve always been good with numbers, and I recognize it as one of the SUVs we’ve been tailing recently, watching their movements.
It’s men belonging to the Russo family. Working for them.
"Sienna," I say, my voice calm despite the adrenaline starting to flood my system. "I need you to stay calm and keep your head down."
"What?" She looks up from the prescription bottle, confusion clear in her green eyes. "Why?"
“Don’t worry about it. Just listen to me.”
She must hear something in my tone because she doesn't argue. She drops the bottle back into the bag just as the sedan accelerates, pulling up alongside us.
I floor the gas pedal, the Mercedes surging forward, but there's another car waiting at the intersection ahead. A trap. Perfectly executed. I hear Sienna gasp, and I know she’s picking up on what’s happening.
Her hands curl around the edge of the seat, her entire body tense.
I see her look at me out of the corner of my eye, see the fear building in her face, and I fucking hate it.
If it were up to me, this woman would never feel fear again.
And I want to kill anyone who makes her feel that way.
"Hold on," I growl, yanking the wheel hard to the right.
The car skids sideways as I veer around the SUV trying to block us, just as I see a man with a gun at the window.
Bullets pepper the side of the car, hitting the bulletproof glass, making it spiderweb as Sienna gasps, a small cry escaping.
But she doesn’t scream. Her face is white as a sheet, and I can see her chest heaving, but she doesn’t cry out again as I floor it, trying to get away from the rain of bullets.
She’s tougher than she looks. But then again, I knew that the first night, when I took her from the warehouse. When she fought me at the church.
My little wildcat.
I manage to straighten out the car and punch through the intersection, but there's a third vehicle now, and they're herding us toward the industrial district where the warehouses provide perfect cover for the kind of work they're planning. There might be more, planning to surround us. I have no idea how many men have set this trap. My heart is pounding hard behind my ribs, but outwardly, I’m calm. Years of training have gotten me here, and I’m grateful for it, because it means I can help keep Sienna calm, too.
I can feel the weight of my gun at my back, but there are far too many of them for one weapon.
I’ve got more in the back, but I need to get Sienna to safety before I can fight anyone off.
I don’t want her caught in the crossfire—I can’t fight if I’m afraid for her.
If I’m worried about what’s going to happen to her.
"Damian," Sienna's voice is steady, which surprises me. "What do you need me to do?"
The question catches me off guard. Most people would be screaming, or crying, or frozen with panic. But Sienna is asking how she can help, and something fierce and protective roars to life in my chest.
"When I stop the car, you run," I tell her sharply. "Don't look back, don't wait for me. Just run."
Her eyes go wide, and she grabs the door as I veer off into an alley, trying to keep them from herding us where they want us to go. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you fucking are,” I growl, the wheels screaming as I turn a sharp corner. “I need you safe, Sienna.”
“And I need you!” she cries out, startling me with the vehemence in her voice. “I need you to get us back home. To get me back to Adam. I’m not safe by myself, you and Konstantin made that clear. I’m not leaving you!”
There's no time to argue. The trap is closing. The lead sedan clips my rear bumper, sending us into a spin that I barely manage to control. We slam into a loading dock, the impact jarring through my bones.
The silence that follows lasts maybe three seconds.
Then all hell breaks loose.
I'm out of the car before the engine stops smoking, my gun in my hand and three rounds already fired. One of the bastards coming out of one of the SUVs goes down hard, clutching his shoulder. Another dives for cover behind a dumpster .
"Stay in the car!" I shout to Sienna, but even as I say it, I know the car is a death trap. Bulletproof glass won’t last forever, and they’ll get to her eventually.
Bullets riddle the hood and the front of the Mercedes…
the engine is probably done for. We aren’t going anywhere in it now.
We’re going to have to run, and they’ll catch us.
I drop another Russo soldier with a clean shot to the chest, but there are more of them pouring out of the warehouses like cockroaches. Too many.
A bullet takes a chunk out of the hood of the car beside my head, and I roll behind a stack of crates, reloading by instinct. My mind is running calculations—six men visible, probably more in reserve, limited ammunition, Sienna .
The math isn't good.
"Damian!" Sienna's scream cuts through the gunfire.
I spin around to see two men dragging her from the wreckage of the car. She's fighting them, clawing and kicking like the wildcat that I’ve called her since we met, but they're too strong.
The sight of their hands on her turns my vision red.
I empty my clip into the nearest group of men coming toward us, not caring about conserving ammunition anymore.
One of them shooting at Sienna is all I can think about.
I don’t know if they want her alive or dead, but the fact that it’s even a question makes me feel feral, rage flooding hot and uncontrollably through me. I have to get to her.
All of my cold calm is gone. The calculation that’s carried me through every fight has vanished. I feel like a beast, an animal, frantic to get to my mate. I have to get to her.
But there are too many of them, and they're using her as leverage now. One of the fuckers has a gun pressed to her temple while she glares daggers at him, her strawberry-blonde hair wild around her face.
"Drop your weapon, Kutnezsov!" the man holding her shouts. "Or your pretty little wife gets a bullet in her brain."
The world narrows to that single moment.
Sienna's eyes meet mine across the warehouse yard, and I see something there that stops my heart.
She's not just scared—she's furious. Furious that these men dared to touch her, furious that they're threatening me, furious that they've come after us both. Furious that they’re keeping her from getting to her son.