Chapter 16
Alyona
Idon’t announce that I’m leaving. I don’t ask permission.
If I stop long enough to think about it, I know I’ll stay, because the estate has a way of closing around you once you pause; making you feel safe.
Two weeks.
Two weeks of beautiful rooms and careful distance.
Two weeks of meals served on china I’m afraid I’ll chip, of staff who smile politely but never forget who they work for.
Two weeks of safety that feels like velvet-lined confinement.
I tell myself I’m grateful for it, and I am, mostly, but the boredom has teeth now, sharp and gnawing.
Even the aesthetician school I attend four days a week feels muted. The lead trainer’s eyes skirt over me nervously, and I know that the other students are aware of the men who sit out in the parking lot in dark vehicles.
I feel isolated. I need noise. I need movement. I need something real.
I slip on my shoes and grab my jacket, easing the door shut behind me softly. The hallway is dim; the sconces turned low; the walls lined with old portraits whose eyes seem to follow me as I pass. I don’t look at them. Tonight, I don’t want to feel watched.
The back stairs creak faintly under my weight, every sound amplified by my own pulse.
I know Kazimir’s bedroom is on the third floor down the hallway from mine.
It’s late, and I hope he’s in there wrapped up in some business.
Shipments or exports, or whatever he’s trying to keep this other cartel boss from taking over. I don’t really want to know.
I pause on the landing, listening, but the house is silent and still.
Outside, the air is heavy and damp, blurring the edges of the world.
The massive oaks lining the drive loom overhead, their branches heavy with moss that sways gently, like it’s breathing.
The path stretches ahead of me, long and winding, deliberately disorienting.
For the first time since I arrived here, I feel its purpose keenly.
This place was not built to be escaped easily. Kazimir and his men will see anyone coming from a long, long way off. Which means there’s a good chance someone will notice me hurrying from shadow to shadow.
My phone vibrates in my hand as soon as I unlock it.
where are you?
I keep walking, my steps brisk now, gravel crunching beneath my feet.
End of the drive. I’ll be there in a minute.
There’s a pause, longer this time, and I picture Devin biting her lip and checking her mirrors. She’s probably deciding whether she’s brave enough to do this. It took a long time to talk her into helping me escape just for tonight. I know she’s weighing the risk. Even now.
Aly, this is a terrible idea.
A laugh bubbles up, thin and forced. I type back quickly.
I thought you approved of bad ideas?
Her headlights appear a moment later, cutting through the dark like a promise and a warning all at once. I wave both hands quickly, and she turns off the lights. She pulls up just far enough that the estate remains hidden behind the curve of the drive, but her engine idles like she’s ready to flee.
I slide into the passenger seat and shut the door, and my chest loosens with immediate relief.
Devin doesn’t smile.
“What the hell are you thinking?” She says, pulling back onto the road.
“I’m thinking there’s an open shift, and I’m bored out of my mind,” I reply lightly. “You can’t tell me Jak won’t be grateful for the help?”
“You are hiding out at a Bratva leader’s house!” She snaps. “You don’t get bored. You get compliant.”
I roll my eyes and stare out the window as the trees begin to thin. “Everyone is being dramatic.”
She shoots me a look. “You didn’t see what I saw.”
The edge in her voice makes my stomach tighten. “What does that mean? Dev, did something happen?”
“It means people are scared,” she says. “Jak’s scared, and so is the staff. Something changed after you left.”
“That’s not my fault,” I say defensively.
“No,” she agrees quietly. “But it doesn’t seem to be unrelated either.”
I cross my arms, suddenly cold despite the heat. “Kazimir doesn’t own me. I thought everything had been figured out. Jak didn’t seem mad about it.”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “He thinks he owns you, and that’s more than enough.”
“The engagement is fake,” I say, the words tumbling out faster than I intend. “You know that.”
“Sure,” she replies. “But you’re sneaking out like you’re cheating on him.”
I open my mouth to argue and then stop; the truth sitting uncomfortably on my tongue. The engagement might be fake, but the way my body reacts to him isn’t. In my head, I replay the sound of his voice and the words he said to me.
I don’t say any of that.
The Foundry comes into view, neon signs buzzing softly, and relief washes over me so hard it’s almost dizzying.
This place is dangerous, but familiar. It’s honest about what it is, and a part of me is curious how I’ll feel being here.
Especially now that Kazimir has made it clear that some men appreciate a woman like me.
Devin was right, though, and inside things feel different.
The music is there, the low thrum vibrating through the floor, but the energy is wrong. Conversations are muted. Laughter sounds forced. People glance toward the doors more often than they should.
Jak spots me immediately, his mouth tightening before he schools his expression. He gives me a nod that feels more like a warning than a greeting and turns back to a man speaking urgently into his ear.
My pulse quickens.
“See,” Devin mutters. “Told you.”
I scan the room and see Cinn almost immediately. She’s tucked into a corner instead of prowling the floor, her posture defensive, shoulders hunched inward. When she turns her head, the light catches on a faint yellowing bruise along her cheekbone, barely concealed beneath makeup.
My stomach drops.
I move toward her instinctively, but Asimov steps into my path, his massive frame blocking me with subtle precision.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music.
“What happened?”
His jaw tightens. “New guy. Last week.”
“What kind of guy?” Briefly, I think about that tech bro, but those kinds of clients should’ve been scared off after what Kaz did to him. Right?
“The kind that doesn’t care whose place this is.”
His words send a chill down my spine. “Jak let that happen?”
Asimov’s eyes flick briefly toward the office. “Jak didn’t stop it.” His expression changes, shifting to distrust, and it really hits me for the first time that something has drastically changed the dynamic here.
I slip past him anyway, crouching beside Cinn. She looks up; she’s surprised at first, but then her expression hardens.
“What?” she snaps. “Come to see if I survived?”
“No,” I say softly. “I came to check on you.”
She laughs bitterly. “Don’t. I don’t need your pity.”
Before I can respond, the doors swing open.
Two men confidently stride in, and their presence cuts through the room with brutal efficiency. Conversations falter, and people turn to watch the men.
In an instant, they grab a politician and haul him to his feet. I recognize the man from charity galas and campaign posters, and haul him to his feet.
“Please,” he stammers, “just give me more time.”
The punch lands with a crack that echoes off the walls.
Chaos erupts.
Chairs scrape. Someone screams. Glass shatters. Blood sprays from a broken nose as the second man slams him into a table. The smell of iron fills the air.
Devin grabs my arm. “Aly.”
We try to move, but the crowd surges, bodies colliding, panic spreading fast. A glass flies past my head and shatters against the wall.
Someone stumbles into me, nearly knocking me over.
Devin and I duck, crouched half-behind the bar.
I squint through the dim light to try and see the men, and it’s obvious to me right away that they aren’t Russian; aren’t Bratva.
Their features are softer and they’re leaner, shorter but more compact, like they’re springs coiled and ready for destruction. Not our men.
The doors swing open again.
Silence crashes down.
Kazimir Baranov stands in the doorway, fury radiating off him in palpable waves, his gaze locking on the destruction with lethal focus.
And when his eyes find me, everything stops.