Chapter Twenty-Five - Suzy
Morning light slants through Leon’s office windows, illuminating motes of dust in the golden air.
The space smells of coffee and old leather, paper and something sharper—adrenaline, maybe, or just the high-wire tension that’s lived here since the moment I arrived.
I sit at his desk, sleeves rolled, hands flying over the keyboard as lines of code flicker past on encrypted screens.
My nerves are electric, but my mind is steady—focused. I haven’t touched systems like this in years, not since my father’s men taught me how to vanish and how to find those who didn’t want to be found.
Leon stands by the bookshelf, arms folded, eyes tracking every move I make. He says nothing, but the air between us vibrates. He’s seen me fight, seen me survive, but this—this is new.
I’m breaking into Vadim’s network, bypassing firewalls and brute-forcing my way past layers of security. Each password cracked, each file unearthed, feels like shedding an old skin. I feel exposed and invincible all at once.
“Where did you learn all this?” he asks, his voice low.
I shrug, keeping my focus on the monitor. “Family tradition.”
His mouth twitches in a half smile—pride, surprise, something hotter simmering beneath. I pull up a list of new addresses, then another set of coordinates, and finally the server Vadim’s men use for their private comms.
The room is silent except for the click of keys and the soft hum of machines. When the map lights up with a blinking red dot—coordinates out past the city’s industrial district—I turn to Leon, unable to hide the rush of victory.
“Here,” I say, voice rough, breathless from more than just the effort. “That’s his newest hideout. Unlisted. Buried behind three shell companies. You wanted Vadim? There he is.”
For a moment, Leon just stares at me. There’s something fierce in his gaze—pride, yes, but a darker hunger, a kind of awe I’ve never seen him direct at anyone. He crosses the space between us in two strides, hands closing around my waist, his mouth at my ear.
“You keep surprising me,” he murmurs. “You know what that does to me?”
I barely manage to shake my head before his lips are on mine—hard, claiming, desperate. He sweeps everything from the desk with a careless arm, pulling me up to sit atop it. His hands slide under my shirt, fingers rough on my skin, mouth trailing heat along my jaw.
My back arches, need winding through me sharp and sweet. The room disappears—just the slick slide of his palms, the scrape of his stubble at my throat, the pressure of his body between my thighs.
He moves with purpose, with hunger, but there’s something different now—a tenderness beneath the possession, a reverence in the way his hands slow to memorize me. I cling to his shoulders, gasping as he pushes inside me, the world narrowing to the rhythm of his hips, the force of his need.
The edge between us is gone—no more roles to play, just the headlong rush of being wanted for everything I am.
I lose myself in it, in him, in the wild certainty that this is as real as anything I’ve ever known. His hand finds mine, fingers laced tight. When I come apart, I do it in his arms, his mouth at my ear, promising things I never dared to ask for.
Afterward, we stay tangled on the desk, my cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat pounding against my palm. I try to catch my breath, try to fix this moment in memory—the salt of his skin, the warmth of his body, the way he holds me so close I almost believe we’re unbreakable.
Reality is always waiting. Leon lifts his head, brushing hair from my forehead, expression shifting—hardening.
“I have to go,” he says, voice raw. “This ends now. I’m not letting Vadim get another chance.”
Panic needles through the haze of pleasure. “I’m coming with you.”
He shakes his head, resolve cold as steel. “No. It’s too dangerous. I need you safe. Here.”
I push up, angry and afraid. “You can’t lock me out. Not now. Not after everything.”
His eyes soften, but he’s immovable. “You’re part of this, Suzy. You always will be, but I won’t risk you. Not for him.”
The words sting—worse because I know they’re meant as love, as protection, as trust. But I also know the world he’s going back into, the knives and old wounds and debts that never stay buried. I want to fight, want to demand he take me, want to promise that we’re stronger together.
The look in his eyes silences me. There’s no changing his mind.
He lingers in the doorway, gaze burning into me as if he could memorize every inch. I know he’s afraid too—of losing me, of not coming back, of what’s waiting at the end of this war. The door closes behind him with a finality that makes my heart twist.
The silence that follows is unbearable. The office still smells of us, the ghosts of laughter and argument and heat clinging to the air. I stare at the screen, the red dot on the map blinking in the gloom. My hands are steady, but inside, I’m unraveling.
I thought being left behind was something I’d gotten used to.
As the minutes stretch, as every creak in the house feels like a threat, I realize that waiting is its own kind of hell.
I hate how much I need him safe, how much I want him to come back—not just as the man who claimed me, but as the partner I fought beside, the one who saw me, trusted me, let me in.
Whatever history we have—whatever lies, whatever betrayals, whatever danger—we are bound now by something fiercer than fear. I watch the door, heart racing, praying for the sound of his return.
The dread won’t leave. Not as long as he’s out there. Not as long as I know how easily everything can be lost.
***
Hours bleed together, slow and aching, as I pace the length of the Sharov house’s silent halls. Every creak in the floorboards, every echo off the marble, makes my nerves fray further. The house is too quiet—too big for one person’s restless fear.
I try to read, to distract myself with busywork, but my eyes skip over the words, my hands tremble, my mind loops again and again to the door Leon walked out of.
The seconds stretch into hours, the dread sharpening until it’s a blade pressed beneath my ribs.
I can’t remember the last time I cared so much whether a man came home alive. I spent years convincing myself love was weakness, that needing anyone was dangerous.
I thought I was immune—too smart, too scarred, too careful to let myself hope for someone like Ardaleon Sharov.
Yet here I am, moving through his world, my heart knotted tight with longing and terror. I’ve become someone I barely recognize—a woman who waits at windows, who startles at every shadow, who wants more than survival.
By mid-afternoon, the anxiety is a living thing, coiled tight in my chest. I’m halfway through another circuit of the hallway when Nikola appears in the foyer—unexpected, blocking out the light with his broad frame.
The last time we met, we nearly tore each other apart with words; I’d threatened him, and he’d made it clear he’d rather shoot me than trust me. Now, his presence is somehow worse—a reminder that something big is coming, and Leon wants me guarded.
He gives a nod that’s all business, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Leon told me to stay with you. ‘Until I get back, she doesn’t leave your sight.’ That’s what he said.”
I try to keep my voice steady. “He trusts you with that?”
Nikola shrugs, a hint of humor softening his usual gruffness. “He trusts you more than you think. But I’m not here to keep you in. I’m here to keep you alive.” He glances around, as if expecting threats to spring from the Persian rugs. “You did good work today, Suzy. He said you found Vadim.”
I don’t answer, chewing my lip, thinking of the map, the blinking red dot, the thrill of discovery. It hadn’t felt like luck—it felt earned.
Now, the pride curdles into something colder.
We sit in the lounge, the minutes crawling by. Nikola talks in his low, gravelly way, mostly to fill the silence.
He tells me about his early days in the Bratva, about how Vadim was always difficult, unpredictable, the kind of man you never turned your back on.
“He was dangerous before he lost everything,” Nikola says. “But after Leon exposed him—he turned feral. Every move is a gamble, every ally just another card to play.”
I nod, only half listening, until his words start to rattle in my mind. Unpredictable. Ferocious. Impossible to anticipate. If that’s true—if Vadim is such a wild card—how did I find him so easily? How did a man that careful, that paranoid, leave a trail I could follow in a single morning?
Nikola is still talking, but the room tilts beneath me. A chill runs down my arms. I replay the hours at the desk—the ease with which I bypassed security, the way the files unfolded, as if waiting for me.
The blinking red dot wasn’t just a victory. It was a lure.
My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, breath caught high in my throat. “Nikola,” I say, words coming in a rush, “it was too easy. Vadim isn’t sloppy. He doesn’t make mistakes—not unless he wants someone to see them.”
Nikola frowns, catching on, his body tensing. “You think he left the trail on purpose?”
I nod, fear cold and certain now. “It’s a setup. He wanted us to find him. He wanted Leon to come.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. My mind races—every piece clicking into place with sickening clarity. I remember the pattern of Vadim’s attacks, the way he always made his traps look like chances. I remember the feeling in Leon’s eyes, the pride, the hunger. I should have seen it sooner.
Nikola stands, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call him. If he’s not in yet, we can warn him off—”
As he dials, I know with certainty that it’s too late. The dread turns to action, sharp and inevitable. I pace the room, panic mounting, trying to plan my next move. I won’t wait again—not when I finally understand how easily things can be lost.
As Nikola curses into his phone, trying to get a signal through the Sharov house’s thick walls, I clench my fists and force myself to breathe. I never wanted to care this much, never wanted to be this afraid.
With Leon’s life hanging in the balance, all my old rules mean nothing.
It wasn’t a victory. It was an invitation to ruin. And Leon walked straight into it.
I glance at the door, resolve setting in. I won’t wait for him to come back, not this time. If I have to go after him myself, I will.
I want more than to survive. I want to save the man who risked everything for me.