Chapter 2
Maksim
Two Days Later
Leaving her felt so fucking wrong.
Not like an inconvenience. Not like she was merely business—because she wasn’t, and I was fully aware of that now.
No, this was like wrong deep in my bones.
Sofia stood by the window of what was now her new bedroom in my uptown apartment. Scratch that. Our bedroom—wrapped in one of my shirts, hair messy from sleep. Among other things. She looked small there—a soft thing in a world made of cold, harsh edges. My world.
A world I’d dragged her into. She thought she was here simply because she was pregnant. What she didn’t know was that someone had been following her. In her state, I didn’t want to frighten her more than she likely was already.
She traced the melting snow as it ran down the outside of the glass, watching the city below. Snow dusted the rooftops like powdered sugar, deceptive innocence over concrete and rot. A city that would swallow her whole if I blinked too long.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered, still facing the cold outside.
“You think I do?” My voice was rough. I stepped behind her, hands settling on her hips. Warm. Fragile. Mine. Slowly, I slid one hand around to rest protectively over her still-flat belly. “Russia is necessary.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I felt the fear in the way her breath hitched.
“Why can’t you just leave all of this? Why would you want to be a part of Boris and his greed?” she quietly asked as she continued to stare out the window.
Unable to answer her because she wouldn’t understand, I gently turned her to face me. “You will not be alone.”
She tilted her head questioningly as her brow furrowed right before a sharp knock sounded. Precise. Measured.
I didn’t want to let her go, but I reluctantly released her to answer the door.
A man stood there. Tall. Broad. Cropped hair. Quiet, but keen eyes. Ex-military. Loyal. Most importantly, lethal.
One of my old friends from my brief military days—someone I trusted implicitly.
Stepping back, I motioned for him to enter. Once he was inside, I glanced up and down the hall—just in case. No doors opened, and there were no sounds of anyone near them.
His lips twitched briefly. “Do you think I would have knocked if I felt there was a threat?”
“Habit,” I replied with a slight shrug.
I watched as his attention moved to a point over my shoulder. My senses were already so in tune to her that I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Sofia.
“Archer,” I introduced before I glanced to her, “This is Sofia. You do not leave her side. You sleep in the spare bedroom. You drive her to and from work, if she so desires to go there. You breathe when she breathes.”
Sofia’s head snapped toward me. “Whoa, wait. He’s staying here?”
Archer bowed his head slightly. “Ma’am.”
She blinked comically. “Did he just ‘ma’am’ me?”
“Respect,” Archer said simply. “And orders.”
Her jaw worked, as if an angry retort was forming in her pretty little head—but it quickly died. She wasn’t naive. She’d seen enough now to recognize danger even when it wore an exquisitely tailored coat.
Instead, she looked at me. “You’re really going.”
“I am.”
For a few heartbeats, she remained silent. “When will you be back?”
“When this is handled.”
Wrong answer. I saw it in her eyes—the hurt… the worry. Though she said nothing, she nodded slowly. We both knew “handled” could mean an hour or months or never.
Ignoring the fact that Archer was still waiting by the door, I approached her. Softly, I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone. “You will be safe. I do not leave what is mine unguarded.”
“I’m not your possession,” she petulantly grumbled, making me want to smile.
My lips ghosted her ear. “No. You, my sweet kitten, are my future.”
She swallowed, tears threatening but held tightly back. “And what if something happens to you?”
I kissed her slow, deep, memorizing her taste. When I pulled back, I lowered my head and nuzzled my nose against hers. Finally, I murmured, “I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t promise that,” she argued softly. “In your world, things are dangerous. I’m worried about the baby.”
“I will burn the world to ash before it touches you or our child.”
Her voice shook. “That’s not what I meant. I’m worried about our child never knowing their father.”
“You and our child will be safe, and I will return to you, but I need to make this trip.”
Archer discreetly turned away, giving us the illusion of privacy. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing myself to step back.
“The Armenians will try again. There is betrayal inside the brotherhood, I just don’t know who or where. Until I know that, you do not go anywhere without Archer.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I tie you to me.” My tone didn’t rise, didn’t break. Truth didn’t need volume. “And I do not leave.”
Her eyes widened—not in fear. In recognition.
I loved her. In the most dangerous way a man like me could.
Enough to get myself killed for putting my family before the brotherhood. Enough to let her hate me if it kept her alive.
My phone buzzed. The plane was ready. Igor Popov was letting me use his private jet.
After seeing the message, I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m hoping this trip will result in answers and reinforcements. Sofia, I will come back.”
Her breath stuttered. “Promise me. Come back to us, Maksim.”
“I swear it.”
Reluctant to leave, I forced myself to walk away. Each step felt like I was literally ripping muscle from bone. Archer shut the door behind me. The lock clicked.
My chest felt empty. Hollow.
But I had enemies to hunt and to do that, I needed backup.
* * *
Later — Airport Tarmac
Konstantin stood beside the jet, Chicago-bound in a few days. He looked at me, saw the storm raging inside me that I tried unsuccessfully to hide.
“You shouldn’t have left her.”
A snort escaped me, making little clouds in the air. “Weren’t you the one telling me I should terminate my connection to her? Hell, you initially told me to terminate her.”
“Yes. But you never listen to me.” He shrugged one shoulder and met my gaze. “They are going to try to get to you through her.”
“I know.” I glanced off in the distance, the icy wind stinging my cheeks. It was unseasonably cold for this early December. Winter was definitely coming in like a banshee.
Konstantin and I had talked on the drive here. I told him my suspicions, and he confirmed he’d had the same thoughts. I didn’t tell him that I had received information from inside Russia that there was a crack in what we thought was an impenetrable wall.
“Still, you’re doing the right thing.”
“Honestly, I don’t care.”
He smirked faintly. “And they say you don’t have feelings.”
I boarded without commenting. Feelings didn’t matter at the present time. Results did.
And I would not return without the confirmation and manpower to destroy whoever wanted to fuck with my friends… and take her from me. I wasn’t doing this for Boris, or for Konstantin, or for any of my other brothers in the Bratva.
I was doing this to ensure I had men that I trusted implicitly.
* * *
Moscow, Russia
The jet touched down on Russian soil like a blade settling into a sheath.
Cold slapped me the moment the door opened. Winter wasn’t coming here—it permanently resided here. Snow whipped and swirled across the runway, hard and stinging, driven sideways by a punishing wind. The kind of weather that stripped softness from men and made steel out of what remained.
I breathed it in. Let it burn through me.
This place made me. Yes, my brothers in the Bratva and I had all immigrated with our parents to America when we were small, but my father had sent me back to train with his youngest brother each summer. He didn’t believe in having a weak son.
Which was why I knew it could unmake me too.
A convoy waited on the tarmac. Black SUVs. Armed security. My past, lined up neatly and waiting for orders.
And beside the first vehicle—
Viktor. My uncle.
Older than me by a little more than a decade, built like a granite wall in a coat too thin for the weather. Face carved in stone. A thick scar that ran over the top of his ear from the time he refused anesthesia and let one of our doctors sew it back on.
My boots crunched over ice as I stepped down the stairs from the plane. The wind gusted and sucked the air from my lungs. Viktor watched me like he was measuring what remained of the man he trained.
We didn’t hug. We didn’t shake hands. We just nodded.
“Maksim,” he rumbled. “I was sorry to have to give you the news that you have an enemy in your ranks. But my loyalty is to family. Therefore, when I found out, I called.”
“While I wish you’d been wrong, I thank you, Uncle,” I answered in Russian.
“And Boris thanks you for the reinforcements.” His comment about loyalty to family was one I’d heard often from him over the years.
He didn’t think much of the Bratva in America.
He believed loyalty belonged to actual blood family—not chosen brothers.
Which was why I needed to tell him about Sofia’s pregnancy. It would make things clear to him.
“But of course. I will always have your back. However, this isn’t for Boris or any of those other so-called brothers you have. If it was anyone but you, I would not be offering up my men.”
“I’m aware and I thank you,” I assured him.
“I have done as you asked. They wait.”
“Good, because I will leave no stone unturned to find out who has betrayed me. If that means I have to raze the city when I return, I will.”
He laughed once—no humor. “Always did prefer war.”
What he didn’t understand was that I didn’t prefer war; I simply didn’t tolerate a lack of loyalty.
“You came alone,” he observed as no one else exited the plane after me.
“Not even those I trust know exactly why I came.”
“And do you really?” His brow lifted. “Trust anyone?”
For a second, I thought of Sofia. Her shaking hands. Her stubborn chin. The new life she carried. The warmth in her voice when she whispered, come back to us.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
Viktor’s gaze sharpened. “Then you are vulnerable.”
“I am prepared,” I corrected. The snowflakes seemed to grow as we stood silent.
His lips twitched—proud and worried all at once. “Good. Because even here, whispers reach us. Someone inside wants you weakened. Maybe dead.”
I didn’t flinch. “I had a feeling, which was why when you called, I wasn’t surprised.”
He gestured to the convoy. “Come. I’ve gathered my most trusted men for you. Old guard first. Loyalty proven by scars and actions, not words. Brute strength, cunning, and unfailing commitment.”
We climbed into the second SUV. Snow and sleet hammered the windshield. Moscow loomed ahead—iron and ice and memories.
As the convoy rolled, Viktor spoke again. “And the girl?”
I didn’t ask how he knew. “She is protected.”
“Protection is not a guarantee if an enemy wants her badly enough.”
My jaw locked. “They do not want her. They want leverage against me.”
“Same thing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And my point exactly. Because either way, she is your weakness,” he confirmed.
“No.” I stared out into the blizzard. “She is my line. Anyone who crosses it… dies.”
Viktor studied me—long, hard, knowing. “Then God help the world when someone tries.”
He didn’t say if… he said when.
* * *
Sokolov Compound, Outside Moscow
We pulled into a fortified compound—stone walls, iron gates, snow-covered outbuildings lit by harsh industrial lamps.
My uncle’s compound. Though from the outside it appeared to be a prison, no one questioned a thing.
I was sure the government and local police were well compensated to turn a blind eye.
Men gathered as we exited the vehicle. Some nodded in respect. Some stared too long.
Checking for cracks. Weak links. They were like sharks watching for blood in the water.
Boldly meeting their gazes, I stood taller. They needed to know I was an effective leader and that meant I showed no fear. No hesitation. Then I followed Viktor inside the building I’d spent countless days in throughout my youth.
Inside, a veritable war room waited—maps, phones, intercepted intel. Names circled in red. Armenians. Chechens. One familiar Russian name was underlined twice.
Though I didn’t show it, I was shocked. Betrayal did indeed fester from within. Though he said he’d heard things, I hadn’t expected him to already have names.
Viktor leaned on the table, resting on his fingertips. “You will need ten men. Minimum.”
“Twenty,” I corrected. “And they need to be ones who won’t hesitate for a second.”
He grinned, wolf-sharp. “Ah. You plan to bring hell home to America with you.”
I didn’t smile. “Hell is already there. I’m just bringing the blowtorch and the flames.”
Hours later, after meetings and selections with blood oaths whispered like prayers, I shut myself in a room. Bare walls. Iron bed. My old space.
Exhausted to the bone, I dialed Sofia. She didn’t answer, and I looked at my watch, realizing I hadn’t slept since arriving and I’d completely lost sense of time.
I wondered if she was sleeping or afraid. She might not be happy about it, but I knew Archer would be pacing the hall like a guard dog, which was what I was paying him good money to do.
As I took my jacket off and tossed it on the small mattress, I imagined her curled on my bed, holding my pillow to her nose, smelling me like a safety tether.
In my mind, I pictured her one day with her hand resting on her rounded belly as she waited to feel a soft kick under her hand. Our child. My child.
And for the first time in years, my chest ached in a way no bullet had ever accomplished.
I left a voicemail—rare for me, but necessary.
“Listen to Archer. Tell him if anything feels wrong, and he will take you underground. I know you think I’m harsh.
I know you think I drag shadows behind me and into your world.
But I swear to you, Sofia… I will return with enough fire to burn down anything that threatens us. So just breathe… and stay mine.”
I hung up.
Outside, men trained in the snow—fists slamming through cold air, discipline etched into their bones. This was nothing new. My uncle believed in always being prepared.
A war was already brewing. I’d been afraid it was, but after the shooting, I was certain.
And someone—Armenian or brother—followed her.
Soon, I would know who.
Soon, they would beg for mercy that I did not possess.