Chapter 5 - Wyatt
I don’t move. I can hardly even breathe.
It’s not deliberate, and it’s not to be dramatic…but my body locks up anyway, like a metal rod has been wedged into my spine without warning.
Anger rolls off Elena with a notable sharpness while she stands near the car, but not close enough to get in just yet.
She doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t need to.
She’s pissed and grappling with the thought of being legally married to a stranger with a gun, who likely seems no better than the others we’ve dealt with tonight.
A stranger who’s suddenly forced to swallow the fact that he just royally fucked himself.
Lukov.
It’s a name I had disdain for when I worked with the Balakins, and one I’ve grown to loathe even more ever since I learned they had my sister. Indirectly, they’ve become a mental target of mine, even if I know better than to face them head-on. It’s a fight many don’t survive.
Still, the name reverberates in my skull loud enough to drown out the hum of the garage lights as they flicker briefly overhead.
Of all the bloodlines in this city, tangled up in Bratva politics, power plays, and endless grudges, she just has to belong to that one.
I’ve spent far too long planning how to pull Lily out from beneath their all-encompassing shadow to throw it all away now. I’ve been walking the tightrope, careful not to poke the wrong bear. To not make a move that would put her in danger.
And now, I’ve legally strapped myself to one of them.
Elena wasn’t even part of the plan, and everything that has happened tonight wasn’t ever supposed to. There wasn’t room for her in the equation to begin with, yet I allowed it to steer me off my perfectly constructed path.
Dragging in a slow breath through my nose, I try to ground myself, but it doesn’t help in the slightest.
The stutter of my pulse isn’t from the earlier chase or from binding her to me. Instead, it stems from the cold, hard fact that I can’t escape: this is a consequence. Direct and unavoidable.
This is what I get for being hasty and diverting from the plan. All that time of being careful and staying one step ahead, pissed away for nothing.
Even having her by my side feels like housing a time bomb.
When I still don’t move, Elena glances back at me, eyes lacking warmth. “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you freeze up?”
I don’t answer right away as every thought circulates through my mind, feeling more damning than the last.
Then, she continues, looking more aware of what this could mean for me than she should be. “It’s almost like you shouldn’t have done this in the first place.”
Her words irk me, but I know she’s right, and the truth is far too ugly for me to want to face.
One impulsive decision forged from spite and questionable instinct put every aspect of my plan on the line. I’ve managed to survive unlikely odds, but never ones like this. Not with a Lukov too close for comfort.
Finally, willing the words to leave me, I murmur, “I didn’t realize who you were.”
Nothing in her expression softens. “That’s hardly comforting.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be. It’s a fact, and relevant.”
“Relevant to you.”
She’s right again.
I straighten with another breath, forcing my shoulders into something neutral and controlled, even if the situation itself feels anything but.
Regardless of how much I’m freaking the fuck out on the inside, if I show any of it, then Elena will see it. She’ll see how screwed I am and not trust me to handle anything. If she’s the plotting type, then she’ll try to use it against me, and I can’t afford that right now.
Turning to face her directly, I try to use whatever confidence I can muster after such a tragic blow to my pride. “I need you to understand something. This…isn’t personal. None of it.”
Elena scoffs, but it’s more incredulous than amused. “You forced me to marry you. That feels entirely personal.”
“Well, it’s not. It was strategic.”
Her brows pinch together. “That’s worse.”
And that’s entirely fair.
With a small step closer, I show my palms in a placating gesture, trying to prove I’m not a threat to her…but still not entirely apologetic either. Those don’t come well to me, and I won’t disrespect her further by pretending regret can fix any of this.
“I did what I did because you are a target for them. One they’re willing to pay absurd money for,” I try to explain without pulling her in too deep. “Because men like the Grimaldis don’t back off unless a bigger predator is standing in the way.”
She lifts a brow at me, almost doubtful. “And what, you’re the bigger predator?”
“In a way, yes.”
“So then what does that make my family?”
“The biggest one.” It hurts a little to admit, but it’s true.
“Annulments are a thing, you know,” Elena mutters, almost with a spark of hope in her eyes at the suggestion. “That would make all of this go away, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being crushed by my brothers, if they’re truly as bad as you say.”
My eyes narrow faintly at that. While she isn’t wrong, and it would be a direct solution to my Lukov blight, it isn’t what I want to do. It doesn’t feel right, even if it should.
“Funny.”
Irritation causes her features to scrunch, and her jaw tightens. “I’m not being funny. I’m serious.”
“I can’t do that.”
I watch as more anger settles into her face, but she attempts to pull in a calming breath as I had. “What about my family then? You think they’ll just accept this and move on?”
No, of course they won’t. I’m not that big of an idiot.
They’ll see it as an insult, a provocation, and a potential liability all wrapped into one. Nobody takes a potential asset away from a family like theirs without meeting a swift and timely end, regardless of how they might view her.
Keeping her around puts the biggest imaginable target on my back, but I won’t confirm it outright. Instead, I choose my words carefully. “I think they’ll have to decide how much attention they want drawn to you right now, and to themselves, whenever they realize you’re gone, that is.”
“Despite all of this, you’re still not willing to let me go,” she utters, not bothering to hide her irritation. “Ridiculous…”
Silence stretches on as Elena looks away, seemingly mulling things over in her mind. Then, with more curiosity than I’m sure she wants to show, her eyes land on me again. The space around us shrinks, full of unspoken questions she hasn’t asked, and the respective truths I can’t afford to give her.
With a note of consideration, she crosses her arms again, bracing herself against the cold. “Why did Vito call you a Ghost, or whatever?”
For half a beat, I consider telling her everything.
Me faking my death, building an empire under a different name, and even Lily.
How every move I make is a step toward pulling my sister out of a cage she never chose.
One she never would’ve found herself in if I had never involved myself with the Balakins to begin with.
I want to explain. I want her to understand that I’m not some power-hungry psychopath collecting brides like real estate. I don’t know why that urge bubbles up in my chest, but I kill the thought before it can linger for too long.
She’s Elena Lukov. No matter how furious she is with me, and no matter how justified, information moves fast. Things get leaked, and families like hers listen to every word. If even a whisper of my real objective reaches the wrong ears, it could be to my sister’s detriment.
So I shut it down, buying myself a fraction of a second as I glance away, considering my words.
“Because I don’t run business like most do,” I murmur, giving her as much as I can.
“That’s not a very good answer,” Elena says, giving me another scrutinizing look.
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
She scoffs at that, looking annoyed, but not quite so ready to tear my throat out. “That line is a favorite of yours.”
I shrug it off, unwilling to divulge her too much. “It keeps me alive, and it keeps you from knowing too much.”
Elena eyes me, almost like she’s thinking up a way to squeeze more out of me. “And the ‘Vegas Ghost’ thing? That didn’t sound like something Vito made up.”
Sighing, I make sure to keep my expression as unreadable as possible, leaning in just enough to make her pull back by a hair. “It’s just a reputation. Nothing more.”
“For what?”
“I made moves and built something for myself without anyone knowing who I really am. I work behind the scenes, making deals and making things disappear. When others noticed, that’s what they started calling me.”
“Disappear…do you do that to people, too?”
I keep my entire focus on her, voice dropping. “Sometimes.”
“And what, you disappear too?” She asks, eyes sharpening.
Humming, I feel as something heavy and indistinguishable passes between us. “When I need to.”
Elena blinks back at me, letting the faintest shiver move through her. I catch it, knowing it’s not from the cold.
Good.
After a beat, I nod toward the car, unlocking the doors with a press of the button. “We’re leaving.”
She hesitates, still not moving, as if the realization has set in again. “Where?”
“My place.”
Her brows furrow again, and that stubborn look takes over. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s secure, and you’re getting cold.”
Elena glances down at her arms crossed over her chest, still bearing the chill in that dress, then her eyes return to mine. “I don’t care.”
Feeling just how precarious my patience has become, I breathe in, slow and deep, before I open the passenger door and step out of the way. My tone comes out just hard enough to let her know how serious I am.
“We were just ambushed by the Grimaldis not that long ago. You’re a Lukov asset with a target on her back, and now, you’re legally tied to me.
Arguing about where you sleep tonight shouldn’t be the priority,” I explain, eyes set firmly on her.
“Not while your life is on the line and I’m trying to protect it. ”
Her jaw tightens, and for a long moment, she looks prepared to argue. Instead, a flicker of resignation moves through her face, and she gets in.
Relief settles into my skin as I get in from the other side, pulling out of the parking garage and heading to my place. The drive is quiet and not quite as raw or panicked from her end of things, but the tension is certainly still there.
I take a deliberately convoluted route just to be sure, always scanning my mirrors and watching for anything questionable. All the while, I feel her eyes on me. Studying me.
“You live like this all the time?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds exhausting,” she mumbles, tone betraying just how tired she really is.
“It is.”
“Lucky me…”
Even if she sits there obediently, I can still sense the dormant urge in her that wants to flee. To throw all caution to the wind and try to get as far away from me as possible. That energy simmers beneath the surface without her even needing to say it.
But with the doors locked and the car moving, I allow myself to relax my shoulders enough not to lose my mind.
I didn’t plan for this. Didn’t plan to bring a Lukov into my life, or to share my name with, regardless of it being false.
Still, as screwed as I am, and as volatile as this situation has become, there’s one truth I won’t try to wrestle with.
I won’t let them take her. Not the Grimaldis, and not the Balakins. Not anyone.
Even if protecting her costs me everything I’ve built, and even if it makes me a complete idiot.
There’s something about her that I can’t name, and something I’m not willing to unpack yet.