Chapter 24 Aleksander
ALEKSANDER
I step into an empty family room down the hall and shut the door behind me. It’s the only place on this floor that isn’t full of nurses and crying relatives. I pull out my phone and call the charter agency.
They pick up on the second ring. “Mr. Antonov, good evening,” the executive says, all polished and bright. “How can we assist you today?”
“I need a jet,” I say. “Tonight, if possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. Same specs as last time. Destination will be sent to you through the usual channel.”
“Of course. That won’t be a problem,” she says. I can hear keys clicking in the background. “We’ll prioritize it. And again, we’re very sorry about the inconvenience on your last flight.”
I frown. “What inconvenience?”
“We’re sorry we couldn’t get you the upper-class suite,” she says. “It was a last-minute change request, and availability was limited. We did our best with what we had.”
I straighten. “What are you talking about?”
There’s a pause. “Pardon?”
“My private charter was cancelled because of the weather conditions,” I say slowly. “I didn’t make any requests for change.”
“Someone from your team must have,” she replies.
“No, that’s not possible,” I say.
Another pause, longer this time. I can almost hear her replaying her own words.
“I…don’t have that on my file,” she says finally.
Her voice is tighter now. “The last record I see is a change from a charter booking to a commercial partner airline. Upper-class suite requested, confirmed. Maybe I’m…
mixing up accounts. I’m so sorry, Mr. Antonov. Let me double-check and call you back.”
“Don’t,” I say.
I end the call.
For a second, I just stand there, staring at the blank screen, my reflection warped in the black glass.
Someone wanted me to end up on the plane that Kirov died in.
I stare at the phone like it might say something else if I look hard enough, but the facts don’t change.
My charter didn’t get cancelled because of weather.
Did they want Kirov dead and needed him trapped with me?
“Aleksander.”
I hear my name behind me and close my eyes for a second before I turn. Of course.
Selene is halfway down the corridor, heels quiet on the floor, hair perfect like she didn’t just spend the night in a hospital.
“I told you to stay away from Bella,” I say. I don’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice.
She presses her lips together. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m trying to help you.”
“I’m sorry if I don’t believe you,” I shoot back.
She stops in front of me, looks up, and doesn’t flinch. “I found something,” she says. “You’re going to want to hear it.”
I fold my arms. “Then talk.”
“So I snooped around and found Bella was discovered with a knife after she was attacked,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say warily, not sure where she’s going with this.
“I bribed the tech in forensics,” she says, like it’s just another errand. “Told him I needed preliminary notes before the report gets buried.”
My eyes narrow. “Why was that necessary? If it’s Bella’s, I already know she was hurt. If it’s Elena’s, it doesn’t change anything.”
“That’s the thing,” she says. “It’s not Bella’s. And it’s not Elena’s either.”
My stomach goes cold. “Then whose is it?”
“Male,” she says. “They haven’t matched it yet, but it’s definitely male.
I think of the dark lot, the figure stumbling away, clutching their side. I thought it was Elena in a coat, in the chaos. It was dark.
“I don’t think Elena was working alone,” Selene adds quietly. “If she was even the one who grabbed Bella in the first place.”
“Who else knows about this?” I ask.
“Just me and the tech,” Selene says. “And he likes his job too much to talk.”
I just stare at her.
Male blood. Not Bella’s. Not Elena’s. Someone else in that parking lot bleeding because of a knife Bella drove into them.
“And you think you know who it is,” I say. “But you’re not saying.”
“I’m not guessing out loud in the middle of a hospital corridor,” Selene replies. “I’m reckless, not stupid.”
My mind runs through possibilities.
None of it fits. None of it makes sense.
“For once, I honestly don’t know what the hell is going on,” I mutter.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
I glance down at the screen to see a message from the charter company.
Your aircraft is confirmed and ready to depart this evening, per your request.
My stomach drops a little.
Tonight.
I was thinking tomorrow. Planning to buy us a few more hours. It doesn’t matter. Irina’s clock is still ticking. Two days. And now I have a plane and no idea who I can trust to get Bella and Lily to it.
Selene tilts her head. “Bad news?”
My phone vibrates in my hand.
I lock the screen before she can see anything and slide the phone back into my pocket. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I say.
She watches me for a second like she knows I’m not telling her everything, but she doesn’t push. She folds her arms. “You look like you’re about to walk into traffic on purpose.”
“I’ve got things to do,” I say. “You should head home.”
She snorts. “And miss the show? Not a chance.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Stay away from Bella. I mean it. Whatever game you’re playing, do it with me, not her.”
Her expression shifts, just a fraction. “I’m not the one you need to say that to,” she says quietly.
I don’t answer. I turn and walk away, back toward Bella’s room.
I stand outside the door for a second, hand on the handle, giving myself one breath to get it together.
Then I go in.
Bella is half sitting up, pillows shoved behind her back, hair a mess, hospital gown hanging off one shoulder. She looks tired and pale, but her eyes go straight to me the second I step in, like she’s been waiting.
“How’s your head?” I ask.
“Feels like someone hit me with a metal object in a hospital bathroom,” she says. “So, you know. Great.”
I huff out a laugh and come closer. Lily is still asleep in the bed beside her, curled on her side, IV taped neatly to her hand. I check her forehead on instinct.
Bella watches my hand on Lily’s hair, and something in her face softens.
“You look worse than I do,” she says quietly.
“I’ve had a long night,” I say.
She hesitates. “Selene said you’re running out of time.”
Of course she did. I pull the chair closer to her bed and sit, elbows on my knees. “Selene likes dramatic phrasing,” I say. “But she’s not wrong.”
Her fingers twist in the blanket. “You’re still planning to send us away.”
It isn’t a question. I nod. “Yeah.”
She swallows. “When?”
“Soon.” I’m not giving her a time. If something goes wrong, I don’t want her counting down with me.
She looks at me for a long moment. “I don’t want to go,” she says.
“I know.”
“It’s not just because I’m scared,” she adds, voice tight. “It’s because…I finally feel like things make sense. As messed up as it all is, being here with you and Lily…” She glances at the sleeping kid. “It feels like something I thought I’d never have.”
That hits harder than I want it to.
“You’ll still have her,” I say. “That’s the part that matters.”
“It’s not the same.” Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away. “You keep talking like you’re not part of this equation.”
“I’m the part that makes it dangerous,” I say. “If you hate me for sending you away, I can live with that. If she hurts you because I kept you close, I can’t.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t hate you.”
“You should,” I tell her.
“I know.” A small, shaky laugh slips out of her. “But I don’t.”
There’s a quiet between us.
“I remember some of what happened,” she says eventually. “In the parking lot.”
My chest tightens. “Yeah?”
“I remember you shouting,” she says, eyes dropping to her hands. “I remember you sounded…scared.”
I look away. “You had a knife in your hand and blood all over you. Scared seemed appropriate.”
“That’s not all,” she says. “I thought I heard you say you loved me.”
The words just sit there between us.
I could lie. I could tell her she imagined it. Blame the concussion, the blood loss, the sirens. It would probably be safer.
I’m so tired of lying.
“I did,” I say.
Her head snaps up. Our eyes meet and hold. Her pulse is hammering in her throat; I can see it.
“You shouldn’t,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“You’re a killer, Aleksander.” There’s no accusation in it, just fact. “You scare me. Your mother terrifies me. Your world is…” She lets out a breath. “It’s not mine.”
“I know that too.”
“But I still—” She breaks off, biting her lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”
That’s the one that goes through all my armor.
I lean back a little, looking at her, at the bandage on her head, the smudged bruises on her arms where someone grabbed her. I did this. I brought this into her life. And somehow, she’s sitting here telling me she doesn’t want to go.
“You remember what I told you in the car?” I ask. “When I said I can’t give my mother what she wants?”
She nods.
“She wants proof she can use you against me,” I say. “She wants to see me soft. Attached. Afraid. That’s why I pulled away earlier.”
Her cheeks flush. “That was rude, by the way.”
“I know,” I say, a corner of my mouth twitching. “I’m not good at…timing.”
She snorts, then goes quiet again. “What about now?” she asks, voice small. “Is now a bad time too?”
It’s a terrible time.
I look at her, really look at her. The stubborn set of her jaw. The fear she’s not bothering to hide. The way her hand has drifted, unconsciously, closer to Lily’s.
“I don’t know how this ends,” I say honestly. “I don’t know if I make it out. I don’t know how long you’ll be gone. I don’t know if I ever get to find you again.”
Her eyes shine. “You’re not selling this very well.”
“I’m not trying to sell it,” I say. “I’m trying not to lie to you.”
She’s so close. All I’d have to do is reach out.
“For what it’s worth,” I add, “loving you doesn’t feel like giving my mother what she wants. It feels like the only thing that isn’t rotten in this whole mess.”
That does it. Her breath catches.
She leans in first this time, slow, like she’s giving me a chance to pull away again. I don’t. I meet her halfway.
The kiss is not like the others. Not rushed. Not about heat or distraction. It’s careful, almost gentle, my hand coming up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek. She kisses me back like she’s been holding her breath for days.
“I have to make arrangements,” I say. My voice sounds rough even to me. “Rest. Eat. Stay with Lily.”
“Aleksander—”
I don’t let myself turn back. If I see her face again, I won’t leave.
“I’ll be back,” I say, and walk out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.