Valerie #2
"Wait—" I catch his arm. "Who were they? Why did they—"
"I'm about to find out." The promise in his voice is dark. Final. "And then I'm going to kill every single person involved."
He disappears down the corridor, Mikhail and three armed men following.
He’s going to find out they were sent by Patrick, and then he’s going to find out Patrick sent me? Then what’s going to happen?
I head upstairs on autopilot. Find Mila in her room with Elena, curled in her bed, still crying.
"Valerie!" She reaches for me the second I appear.
I climb into bed beside her, let her burrow against me. Elena quietly leaves, closing the door.
"I was so scared." Mila's voice is muffled against my shirt. "I thought—I thought they were going to take me like they took Mama."
Oh God. She thinks this is the same. She thinks she's reliving that nightmare.
"No, baby. No." I stroke her hair, the motion automatic. "This was different. Your mama—what happened to your mama was different. This was just bad men being stupid. And we're okay. We're both okay."
"Because you protected me."
"Yes."
"Like Mama tried to protect me."
The comparison makes my throat close.
Katya died protecting her children. Stood between them and the guns. And I just did the same thing.
"Your mama loved you so much," I whisper. "She would be so proud of how brave you were today."
"I wasn't brave. I was scared."
"Being brave means being scared and doing it anyway." I kiss the top of her head. "You ran when I told you to. You held on tight. You were so, so brave."
We lie there until her breathing evens out. Exhaustion pulling her under despite the trauma.
I stay, watching her sleep, replaying everything in my head.
Patrick's men. I'm sure they were Patrick's men. Which means he knows about Mila. Knows she's Lev's weakness. And he tried to use her to get to him.
Guilt crashes over me.
This is my fault. I brought Patrick into their lives. If I'd never come here, if I'd found another way, if I'd just—
The door opens. Lev stands there, covered in blood.
Fresh blood.
"Is she asleep?" His voice is quiet.
I nod.
He crosses to the bed, looks down at his daughter. Something in his expression cracks, just for a moment, before the mask slides back.
"Come with me."
I carefully extract myself from Mila's grip, follow him out. Elena's waiting in the hallway—she slips into the room to watch over Mila while we're gone.
Lev leads me to his bedroom. Closes the door. Locks it.
Then just stands there, staring at me.
"What did he say?" I ask. "The survivor. Who sent them?"
"Armenian family." His voice is flat. "Testing my defenses. Seeing if I was distracted enough to strike."
Not Patrick.
Relief and disappointment flood through me so intensely that I nearly collapse.
But Lev's still talking. "He gave up names, locations, everything. Begged for his life." A dark smile tugs at his lips. "I killed him anyway. Slowly."
I should be horrified. Should flinch away from the casual brutality.
I don't.
"Good." The word comes out vicious. "He deserved it."
Lev's eyes flash. "You mean that."
"Yes." And I do. "They tried to take Mila. They would have—if they'd succeeded—" I can't finish the thought.
He crosses to me in two strides. Pulls me against him again, and this time I feel him shaking. “Thank you.”
I groan softly at the feel of him. “I would do it over and over.”
He pulls back a little to look at me. "You're not the scared little mouse I caught in my bathroom anymore."
"No." I'm not. "I'm not."
"What are you then?"
His. Mila's. Part of this world, whether I intended to be or not.
"I'm whatever I need to be to protect your daughter."
The honesty chips away at something between us.
He kisses me, and this time it's different. Not desperate, or claiming, or angry.
We end up in his bed, still fully clothed, just holding each other. His hands keep running over me like he's checking I'm still here, still whole.
"I was terrified," he admits into the darkness. "When Mikhail called. First time I've felt that kind of fear since I found Katya."
"I was terrified too." My fingers trace patterns on his chest. "But I couldn't let them take her. Couldn't let her relive that nightmare."
"You saved her."
"We saved her." I correct. "Your men, Mikhail, you. Team effort."
"You put yourself between her and a gun." His voice is fierce. "That was all you."
We're quiet for a long time. His breathing evens out, and I think he's finally asleep.
Then he speaks again. "I trust you."
My breath catches. "What?"
"I trust you." He pulls back enough to look at me. "After today, watching you protect her with your life, risk everything without hesitation—I trust you, Valerie. Completely."
The words should make me feel relief. Victory.
Instead, guilt crashes over me.
He trusts me. And I'm still lying to him about Patrick. Still hiding the fact that my father was an informant against him. Still keeping secrets that could destroy us.
"Lev—"
"Whoever keeps calling, whatever it is that is threatening your family—we'll handle it together. But I need you to know you're safe here. Protected. Mine."
Mine.
The word settles over me like a brand.
"Okay," I whisper.
He kisses my forehead. "Sleep. Tomorrow, I start the retaliation. But tonight, just sleep."
I try.
But hours later, still wrapped in his arms, listening to him finally rest, all I can think is that I need to end this with Patrick.
Before Lev finds out the truth, before this tentative trust shatters.
Before Patrick tries again and succeeds.
Before I lose everything that's become worth protecting.
Tomorrow, I’ll start figuring out how to end this.
Tonight, I just hold onto Lev and pray he forgives me when he learns the truth.