Chapter 3
Sofia
Archer checked the windows. Did tactical-looking things that I didn’t understand. Posted himself facing the sliding glass door but tried to make it look casual.
Curled up on the couch with a book I couldn’t seem to focus on, I watched him, my nerves frayed.
Then—
A flicker outside caught my attention.
A glint from a building across the street.
A camera lens? A reflection?
Certain I was being paranoid, I got up and stepped closer to the window—Archer grabbed my arm and pulled me back gently but firmly.
“Don’t stand near the glass,” he said quietly. “Someone’s out there.”
“Maybe it’s just a person who lives over there. Maybe they lit a cigarette or something,” I rationalized. Yet inside, my heartbeat thundered. Did he know something I didn’t? Or had he seen something more than I had? Maybe he was simply being precautious.
Regardless, I couldn’t help but feel like the “game" had followed me here.
Seconds ticked by. The apartment was too quiet.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
Just… empty in a way that pressed against my ears until I wanted to scream. Like the entire space held its breath.
I stood in the middle of the living room, barefoot on polished stone floors that probably cost more than my entire apartment building, and wrapped my arms around myself.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like an old-fashioned postcard, with snow drifting down in soft, deceptive flakes, traffic moving far below like veins of light.
Maksim should have been here.
Instead, all that remained of him was the faint scent of his cologne on the sheets and the weight of his words lodged in my chest.
You will be protected.
Archer stood near the entryway, silent as a statue, arms folded, gaze fixed on nothing and everything at once. He hadn’t spoken in over twenty minutes. The guy simply… existed. Watching. Guarding.
It was nerve-wracking.
“I don’t need you to stare at the door,” I muttered, trying to inject normalcy into my voice. “No one’s going to burst in.”
He didn’t turn his head. “People burst in when you least expect it.”
Great. How comforting.
“We’re more than a few stories up. How do you think they’re going to come in through the balcony?”
“You’d be surprised.”
With a roll of my eyes that belied my frazzled state, I exhaled slowly and headed for the bedroom. Ours, he’d said. Like it was that simple. Like claiming space made it safe.
Though I’d stayed with him a handful of times, I’d be lying if I said any of the details of his place stuck with me. It was almost like if I didn’t pay attention to the drastic differences in our lifestyles, I could pretend I was good enough for him.
The room was massive—king-sized bed, soft lighting, blackout curtains already drawn halfway.
The chair in the corner where I’d caught him quietly sitting on the nights I’d stayed.
There was a pair of dress pants casually discarded over the back, belt still attached.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, the unfamiliar luxury doing nothing to soothe the tight coil in my stomach.
I was pregnant.
Alone.
In a Bratva fortress. Jesus.
I pressed my palm to my belly, a reflex I hadn’t meant to develop so quickly. “I’ve got you,” I whispered. “Even if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
A faint sound carried through the apartment.
I froze.
Not loud. Not obvious. Just… off.
Footsteps. Not inside the apartment—outside. Or was it the place above us? But how? As I’d said to Archer, we weren’t exactly ground level. And Maksim had said the penthouse above us was vacant.
My heart leaped into my throat. I slid off the bed and moved toward the door, listening. The apartment was high up, but sound traveled strangely up here, bouncing off glass and steel.
I stepped into the living room just as Archer moved like a wraith across the floor.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
My pulse spiked. I guess I was hoping that I’d imagined it. “What was it?”
He held up a finger and moved stealthily around the apartment before he inched toward the windows. He didn’t turn on lights. Didn’t rush. Just walked with the certainty of a man who expected danger and welcomed it.
He crouched near the glass, peering out toward the neighboring buildings.
“Come here,” he murmured. “Slowly.”
“You said to stay away from the glass,” I grumbled belligerently. Every instinct screamed don’t, but my feet moved anyway. I stayed a step behind him, heart hammering so loudly I was sure whoever was out there could hear it.
Archer tilted his head slightly. “Because the lights were all on. Now they’re not. I still don’t want you close to the windows very often, but I want you to be aware. Someone’s on the roof across the street.”
I sucked in a breath. “What do you mean someone’s there? Who? Doing what?”
“Watching,” he said calmly. “Not moving. Been there a while. I was just checking to see if there were more.”
My stomach dropped. “More? Watching… us?”
He shrugged. “They don’t care about me. They’re watching you.”
The words sank into my bones like ice. I stepped closer to the glass before he could stop me—and saw it.
Not a face. Not a body. All I could see was a shape. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one. Still. Intent. Out of place. Though there were apartments across the way, and it could’ve been a tenant, somehow I knew that wasn’t what it was.
Archer’s hand closed around my wrist, drawing me back into the shadows of the room. “That’s enough.”
I shot him a glare that said, See? I told you. My breath came fast. “How long have they been there?”
“Long enough for me to know it’s deliberate.”
“Do they know I’m here?”
“Oh, I’m sure—or they wouldn’t be there.”
A tremor ran through me. “Do they know I’m alone?”
Archer’s jaw tightened. “You’re not alone. But I guarantee you they know Maksim is gone.”
That was worse.
I hugged my arms around myself, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. “He said I’d be safe.”
“You are,” he instantly insisted. “Because I am here. And because whoever that is does not want to be seen yet.”
“Yet,” I echoed.
Archer guided me away from the living room, toward the interior hallway. “You’ll sleep in the inner bedroom tonight. No windows facing the watcher. I’ll be outside the door.”
I swallowed. “On the f-f-floor? You’re really not… leaving?”
“No. Not for food. Not for air.” His gaze softened just slightly. “He will skin me alive if anything happens to you. So I will sleep on the floor. I’m a very light sleeper, but lock the door.”
That shouldn’t have helped.
I mean, it did. Yet it didn’t.
As I lay in the spare bedroom later, lights off, the room dim and unfamiliar around me, my mind wouldn’t slow. Every creak sounded like a footstep. Every hum of the building felt like a warning.
My phone buzzed. A voicemail notification.
Maksim. My heart fluttered.
How had I missed the call?
I listened with shaking fingers, his voice grounding me even as it made my chest ache. It ended with, “So just breathe… and stay mine.”
Tears slipped silently down my temples, soaking into the pillow.
I turned onto my side, curling instinctively, one hand resting over my stomach, the other clutching the edge of the sheet like a lifeline. This room only had one window, though it was large.
Outside, the snow continued to fall—soft, beautiful, deadly quiet.
Yet somewhere across the street, someone watched, and there was nothing I could do about it.
* * *
I told myself to breathe like Maksim had said.
In.
Out.
Archer stood near the back wall of O’Malley’s like he’d been a regular forever, broad shoulders blocking half the dartboard, eyes tracking every movement in the room.
He wore jeans and a Yankees hoodie—less obvious than a suit, but no less intimidating.
He might’ve been trying to blend in, but customers avoided his corner instinctively.
Somehow, I poured beers with steady hands, and I smiled, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
Normal, I repeated in my head.
This is a normal, everyday shift.
Archer and I had argued about me going into work.
I knew there wasn’t anyone who could cover tonight because Brody and Rhiannon were having a date night.
He’d specifically asked if I could work so he could take her to a nice dinner and a Broadway show.
Jeana was out with the flu, and Lou was out of town visiting his grandkids.
It was just me and Kiki. On a Saturday night during the playoffs, we were hopping. No way could she handle it herself.
Maksim didn’t really want me to work, but he said if I did, he wanted me to keep my eyes open and to have Archer within arm’s length. It was funny how, after less than three months, he already knew me so well.
Christmas was next week and yet it didn’t feel like it. I hadn’t gotten Maksim a gift. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d be back in time anyway. That thought had me worrying about him.
So I shook it off and I joked with the regulars. I pretended the man guarding my life wasn’t three feet from the bar, watching me and everyone else in the bar like a hawk.
And for a few hours tonight, it was working.
Then, thirty minutes before closing, the envelope arrived.
Mike—sweet, oblivious Mike—slid it across the bar with a grin. “Guy dropped this off for you. Didn’t say much. Just nodded and left.” He leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I think you might have an admirer.”
My stomach dropped. No one I knew would drop off an envelope without speaking to me. The envelope was plain. White. No return address. My name was written neatly across the front.
Sofia.
My fingers went cold as I picked it up. Archer was instantly in a barstool across from me.
“Do not open it,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. “Maybe it’s from Maksim,” I hopefully countered, though deep in my guts, I knew it wasn’t.
“He wouldn’t do things that way,” Archer insisted as he held out his hand. “Do not open it.”
“I need to,” I fervently whispered. “It could have something to do with Maksim. What if he’s in trouble?”