Chapter 32 Alexei
Alexei
Mila pushes food around her plate without eating for the third night in a row.
I set down my fork and watch her poke holes in the mashed potatoes and stare as the gravy pours out like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. The conversation with her mother two days ago left her somewhere inside her own head where I can’t reach her.
“You need to eat,” I prompt for the second time in thirty minutes.
“I’m not hungry.”
“The baby needs nutrition whether you’re hungry or not.”
She drops her fork with a clatter. “Can we not do this tonight? The whole ‘you need to take care of yourself’ lecture is getting old.”
“Then stop giving me reasons to lecture.”
“Maybe I’d have an appetite if I weren’t living in a concrete tomb with no windows and armed guards outside my door.” She sweeps her arm toward the front door with a flourish.
I place my fork down gently and prompt, “Talk to me, Mila.”
She blinks a few times before she asks, “About what?”
“About whatever’s eating at you. Or maybe why you’ve barely said ten words to me since the call with your mother.”
She stands and carries her plate to the small kitchenette, where she scrapes most of the food into the trash. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been distant since that conversation. What did she say that’s got you so twisted up?”
“She said a lot of things. Most of them were about how I’m repeating her mistakes, and how loving a man like you in this world is a recipe for disaster.” Mila turns to face me with her arms crossed. “She thinks I should leave before the stress destroys me the way it destroyed her.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think I’m tired of everyone telling me what I should do. Papa says I should embrace this life. Mama says I should run from it. You say I should marry you for protection. Everyone has opinions about my choices except me.”
I stand and walk to where she’s standing. “I’m not trying to control your choices.”
“Aren’t you? Every decision you make factors in what’s best for me without actually asking what I want.”
“Because what you want and what keeps you safe aren’t always the same thing.”
She laughs humorlessly. “There it is. That paternalistic certainty that you know better than I do about my life.”
“I know this world better than you do. I know the threats and how to handle them.”
“And I know myself better than you do,” she retorts, throwing her hands in the air. “I know what I can handle and what will break me. But you don’t trust that.”
I grip the edge of the counter to keep from reaching for her. “Novikov is escalating. The coalition is growing. Every day you’re not legally protected makes you more vulnerable.”
“Legally protected. You mean married.”
“Yes.”
“Marriage would make me family in ways that matter to your organization. Give you a permanent claim over me and the baby and eliminate any question about our commitment.”
The detached way she describes it makes my stomach turn. “That’s not the only reason.”
“But it’s the main reason. Be honest, Alexei. If there were no external threats, would you be pushing marriage this hard?”
The question deserves honesty even if the answer complicates things. “Probably not this soon. But the threats exist. I can’t ignore them because the timing isn’t ideal.”
“So your proposal is strategic. A business decision dressed up as romance.”
“It’s both. I want to marry you because of who you are and because it protects you. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She turns away and braces herself against the sink. “My mother married my father and spent twenty-five years regretting it. She thought love would be enough to overcome the violence and constant fear. It wasn’t.”
“You’re not your mother. We’re not them.”
“How do you know? How can you be sure we won’t end up exactly like them with me broken and you too absorbed in your world to notice?”
I close the distance between us and place my hands on her shoulders. She leans her back into my chest despite herself, and I hold onto that gesture. “Because I’m paying attention. Your well-being is my priority, and I won’t let this world destroy what we’re building.”
She turns to face me with tears on her cheeks. “My mother thought the same thing about my father, and look how that ended.”
“So, what do you want from me? To walk away? To pretend we can just ignore the reality of our situation and hope it works out?”
“I want time to work through everything without feeling pressured into permanent decisions. I want space to figure out what I want instead of just reacting to external threats.”
“We don’t have time. That’s what you’re not understanding. Every delay gives our enemies more opportunities to exploit our vulnerabilities.”
“Then maybe I’m not cut out for this life. Maybe my mother is right, and I should leave before I’m too committed to walk away.”
The words punch through my chest, and I drop my arms to my sides. “Is that what you want? To leave?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore. That’s the problem. I’m so overwhelmed by everyone else’s expectations that I’ve lost track of my own desires.”
My phone vibrates on the table. I ignore it.
“Answer it,” she orders. “We’re just talking in circles anyway.”
I snatch my phone and check the screen. Dmitri. Again. Fourth time tonight.
“I need to take this,” I tell her.
“Of course you do.”
I step into the hallway and answer. “What?”
“We have a problem. Novikov’s men approached a classmate of Mila’s, a woman named Anna Ivanova, twenty minutes ago. Mila’s friend from university. They were asking questions about her routine, her relationships, and where she might be staying.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins. “How do you know this?”
“Anna called campus security. They called us because we have someone on staff. We’re monitoring the situation, but you need to be aware they’re getting creative.”
“Creative how?”
“They’re targeting her social circle instead of direct surveillance. Trying to gather intelligence through people who might not realize they’re being manipulated.”
I walk farther down the hallway where Mila can’t hear. “What did Anna tell them?”
“Nothing useful. Probably because she doesn’t know anything useful. But the fact that they approached her at all means they’re expanding their methods.”
“Recommendations?”
“Lock down everyone in Mila’s inner circle. Make sure they know not to share information about her with anyone. Consider relocating again if you think this location is compromised.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I reply. “She doesn’t have much of an inner circle these days.”
“Alexei?” Dmitri pauses. “How is she doing? Mila. After everything with her father and the pregnancy complications.”
“She’s struggling. The conversation with her mother made things worse.”
“Is she considering leaving?”
I glance over at Mila, who is tapping her fingers on the countertop as if the gesture soothes her somehow. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“And if she does? If she decides this life isn’t for her?”
I take a few long strides into the next room and lower my voice. “Then I figure out how to keep her safe from a distance. But I’m not letting her go without a fight.”
“Good. Because losing her would destroy you. Anyone can see that.”
After I disconnect, I return to the kitchen to find Mila washing dishes. Nervous energy in every movement.
“That was Dmitri,” I tell her.
“What did he want?”
“Anna called. Novikov’s men approached her tonight, asking questions about you.”
She drops the plate she’s holding. It crashes into the sink but doesn’t break. “Anna? They went after Anna? But I barely know her.”
“They’re targeting anyone they think might know anything, trying to gather intelligence through your social circle.”
“Oh, God.” She grips the edge of the sink. “She could have been hurt. They could have threatened her, or—”
“She’s fine. We’re monitoring the situation.”
“This is my fault. I put her in jeopardy just by existing in her life.”
I cross to her and turn her to face me. “This isn’t your fault. This is Novikov being a bastard who targets innocent people.”
“But she wouldn’t be a target if not for me. Just like those three men wouldn’t be dead if not for my father’s rescue. Just like you wouldn’t have been shot if not for—”
“Stop. You don’t get to take responsibility for violence other people choose to commit.”
She pulls away from me and starts toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. “I need to call Anna. Make sure she’s okay. Warn her about what’s happening.”
“No,” I begin, following her, “you need to stay off communication channels that could be monitored.”
“My whole life is falling apart,” she whispers.
“My education. My friendships. My relationship with my family. Everything I built for myself is crumbling because of the choices I made in a garden at some stupid wedding. Everything about this has been disaster after disaster with brief moments of happiness in between.”
I reach for her hand and tug her just hard enough to stop her from continuing forward. “Is that really all you see when you look at what we have? Disaster?”
She won’t even look at me as she says, “No. But I see a future that looks exactly like my mother’s past. And that terrifies me more than any threat Novikov could make.”
I let go of her hand and she rushes to her room, leaving me in a hallway that feels colder than it should. Or maybe that’s just the chill settling in my chest from realizing the woman I love might leave me.
I return to my temporary office and pull up intelligence reports. Novikov’s activities over the past week show increased coordination with families we hadn’t previously identified as threats. The coalition is growing faster than we anticipated.
And Mila is questioning whether staying with me is worth the cost.
I can’t fix both problems simultaneously, but I can damn well try.