Chapter 27 Mila
Mila
Eavesdropping on Alexei’s meeting probably qualifies as one of my worst decisions, but I can’t help myself.
He promised yesterday to keep me informed, but the morning sun barely penetrates the bunker’s reinforced windows as I press my ear against the office door.
He’s been in there for the past hour with Dmitri and several other men whose voices I don’t recognize.
The concrete walls muffle most of the conversation, but I catch enough fragments to make my heart smash against my sternum.
“—command-channels only during the operation,” someone says.
“Standard protocol,” Alexei replies. “No communication with the outside until the mission is complete. Otherwise, total communication backout.”
Communication blackout. That means I won’t know what’s happening. I won’t know if Papa is alive or if Alexei survives.
“What about the girl?” another voice asks. “She stays here?”
“She stays here,” Alexei confirms. “Under guard. No contact with the outside until we return.”
I back away from the door before I hear anything else. My hands shake as the reality of what he’s planning sinks in. He’s going to leave me here in the dark while he risks his life to save my father.
No updates and no information; just hours of waiting and wondering if everyone I care about is dead.
Fuck that.
I return to the bedroom and search through the drawers until I find what I need. My phone. Alexei took it weeks ago, but he gave it back after the hospital visit. I pull up a map application and start memorizing the route to Novikov’s warehouse.
Forty minutes by car. Maybe less if traffic cooperates.
The office door opens down the hall, and footsteps echo as the meeting breaks up. I shove the phone under my pillow and sit on the edge of the bed, trying to look innocent.
Alexei appears in the doorway. “How are you feeling?”
I do my best to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m pregnant and trapped in a bunker while my father is being tortured. How do you think I’m feeling?”
He walks into the room and sits beside me. “I know this is hard.”
“Do you?” I bark out a laugh and add, “Because you seem comfortable making all the decisions while I wait around hoping everyone survives.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is leaving me in the dark during the rescue.”
His face goes carefully blank. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard you. Through the door.”
“Mila—”
“Don’t.” I stand and start pacing. “Don’t tell me it’s for my own good. Don’t tell me you’re protecting me. I can’t just sit here for hours, not knowing if you’re alive or dead. If Papa made it out or if Novikov killed him.”
“The alternative is worse.”
“What alternative?”
“You hearing real-time updates while men are dying. While your father is in danger. Your health can’t handle that kind of stress.”
I throw my hands in the air and yell, “My health can’t handle isolation, either.”
Alexei drags his hands through his hair. “It’s the only way I could get them to agree to help. What do you want from me?”
“I want to come with you.”
Alexei whips his head from side to side. “Absolutely not.”
“I’ll find my way there,” I counter, planting my fists on my hips.
He stands so fast the bed creaks. “Like hell you will.”
“Watch me.” I cross my arms and meet his glare. “You can either let me come and stay in the vehicle at a safe distance, or I’ll wait until you leave and drive there myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me. I might be pregnant, but I’m not helpless. I’m done being treated like a fragile thing that needs to be locked away while real life happens around me.”
“This isn’t real life. This is a Bratva operation that could get you killed.”
“At least if I’m there, I’ll know if something goes wrong. I won’t spend hours imagining the worst possible scenarios.”
His jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth to powder. I recognize that look. He’s running through every argument and realizing none of them will work.
“You stay in the armored vehicle,” he relents, though I can tell it pains him. “You do not leave it for any reason. You don’t approach the compound. You wait at a designated safe distance with a full security detail.”
“Deal,” I agree with a quick nod.
“Dr. Orlov rides with us. He monitors you throughout the operation. Any sign of distress, and we pull back.”
I consider arguing, but recognize a compromise when I hear one. “Fine.”
“Christ.” He collapses back onto the bed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Better me than Novikov.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
He looks up at me with admiration mixed with frustration. “How did I fall for the most stubborn woman in Moscow?”
The question makes my chest flutter. Not love… yet. But close enough to make heat bloom across my face.
“You have terrible taste in women,” I tease with a grin.
“Apparently.”
The operation launches at dawn. I ride in the second vehicle with Dr. Orlov and two guards whose names I don’t know. Alexei insisted on separate cars, claiming he needs to focus without worrying about me.
More likely, he wants to keep me as far from danger as possible while still honoring our agreement.
The warehouse district materializes through the morning fog. Industrial buildings stretch in every direction, most of them abandoned, from the looks of them. Perfect location for illegal activities. No witnesses or civilian casualties.
Our convoy stops about two hundred yards from the target building. Through the windshield, I see Alexei’s vehicle parked closer to the action. Men in tactical gear spread out in formation.
“Here.” One of the guards hands me a pair of binoculars. “You can watch from here, but don’t leave the vehicle.”
I take them and adjust the focus until Alexei comes into view. He’s wearing body armor and carrying a gun that he looks entirely too comfortable carrying. This version of him is different from the man who makes me borscht and reads French poetry.
This is the predator I’ve only glimpsed.
Dr. Orlov wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Try to stay calm.”
“I’m watching my boyfriend lead an assault on a criminal compound. Calm isn’t an option.”
He pumps the cuff and checks the reading. “One-thirty-five over ninety. Not great, but manageable. We’ll monitor every fifteen minutes.”
Through the binoculars, I watch Alexei signal to his team. They move with coordination toward different entry points without hesitation or wasted motion.
The first gunshot makes me flinch.
“That’s to be expected,” the guard assures me. “They’re breaching now.”
More shots follow. I can’t see inside the building, but my imagination supplies plenty of details. Alexei moving through corridors. Men dying. Papa hopefully still alive.
Minutes drag on like hours.
“One-forty over ninety-five,” Dr. Orlov announces after the second check. “We’re approaching dangerous levels.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, but I understand why you need to be here.”
Movement at the warehouse entrance. Two men emerge carrying someone between them. I recognize Papa’s build even from this distance.
“They got him,” I breathe. “They got him out.”
Relief floods through me so suddenly that I have to grip the door handle for support. Papa is alive. The rescue worked.
But Alexei isn’t with the extraction team. He’s still inside somewhere.
“Where is he?” I ask the guard, leaning forward in my seat. “Where’s Alexei?”
“Probably coordinating cleanup. Standard procedure after—”
Gunfire erupts from inside the building. Not suppressed this time. Full automatic weapons shredding the walls.
My heart stops, and my hand flies to cover my mouth.
The guard gets on his radio. “Status report. What’s happening inside?”
Static. Then Boris’s voice comes through. “Ambush. North corridor. We have men down.”
“Alexei?”
“Unknown. Lost visual when the shooting started.”
Dr. Orlov grabs my arm as I reach for the door handle. “You can’t go in there.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
“Mila, your blood pressure—”
“I don’t care about my blood pressure. Alexei could be dying.”
I tug on the handle, over and over as hard as I can, but nothing happens.
“The child locks are on, ma’am,” the driver informs me. “I have orders to keep you in this vehicle.”
“Then you better be prepared to shoot me, because I’m getting out if I have to break a fucking window.”
Before anyone can stop me, I wrench open the opposite door, the one next to Dr. Orlov, crawl over him, and stumble out onto the pavement.
My legs are jelly, but I force them to carry me toward the warehouse. Each step sends my pulse roaring in my ears, and the world narrows to a single, desperate thought—get to him.
Behind me, Dr. Orlov shouts something I don’t bother making out. The guards scramble to follow.
“Be careful!” one yells. “She’s pregnant, we can’t risk—”
“Alexei will have our balls if we hurt her!” one yells.
“We can’t just let her run into gunfire!” Orlov shouts back.
They reach after me, but none of them tackle me. They’re too terrified of hurting the baby or facing Alexei’s wrath if they do.
Dr. Orlov isn’t far behind. He’s faster than I expect for a man of his age, and his medical bag swings from one hand as he shouts for the guards to cover us.
I make it halfway to the building before Boris appears in the doorway. He’s supporting Alexei, who has blood streaming down his left arm.
“Stop,” Boris orders when he sees me. “Get back in the vehicle.”
But I won’t stop until I reach them.
Alexei looks up and curses when he spots me. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing. Graze from a ricochet.”
I grab his other arm to help support his weight. Blood seeps through his tactical gear, but not enough to slow him down. “You need medical attention.”
“I need you back in the vehicle where it’s safe.”
Dr. Orlov catches up and crouches beside him. “Superficial. Bullet grazed the outer muscle. No deep tissue damage. You’re lucky.”
“How lucky am I that my girlfriend refuses to follow orders?”
The good doctor shakes his head. “I’d say you’re very lucky to have a woman who cares enough about you to risk her safety.”
More men emerge from the warehouse. Some carry wounded comrades. Others drag bodies that won’t be walking anywhere ever again. The reality of what just happened settles over me with sickening clarity.
People died today. Good men who trusted Alexei to lead them. All because I needed my father rescued.
“Don’t,” Alexei says, reading my face. “Don’t take on guilt that isn’t yours.”
“How many?”
“Three dead. Five wounded. Could have been much worse.”
Three families just lost someone they love. Three men who won’t go home tonight because I convinced Alexei to risk everything.
“I need to sit down,” I mumble.
My knees buckle. Alexei catches me with his good arm while Dr. Orlov lunges forward to support my other side.
“We need to get her horizontal,” Orlov snaps. “Now.”
They half-carry me back to the vehicle, and as they do, I catch a glimpse of Papa being loaded into one of the other cars. His face is swollen and bloody, but he’s conscious. He’s alive.
The cost of that life lies scattered around the warehouse in the form of body bags and wounded men.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as Alexei settles me onto the back seat. “For making you do this. For putting everyone at risk.”
“I chose this. Every part of it. Don’t you dare apologize for loving your father enough to want him safe.”
Dr. Orlov pushes between us with the blood pressure cuff. “She needs rest and relaxation. No more stress. No more dangerous situations. Her blood pressure can’t handle the excitement.”
“Done,” Alexei agrees.
“I’m sitting right here,” I point out. “Stop talking about me like I’m not present.”
“Then stop scaring the hell out of us by running toward active combat zones.”
“You were hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt before. I’ll be hurt again. That doesn’t mean risk your life and our baby’s life trying to rescue me.”
The convoy starts moving. Through the window, I watch the warehouse recede behind us. Papa is alive. Alexei is injured but functional. The operation succeeded despite the casualties.
And I witnessed every brutal second of what this world requires.