CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ari
The car reeks of smoke and chaos, the acrid scent of gunpowder clinging to the leather seats. I lean back against the headrest, feeling the faint sting of glass cuts on my arm. My pulse is finally slowing, but I can’t shake the hum of adrenaline thrumming beneath my skin.
Maxsim sits rigid beside me, his hand clenching the steering wheel so tightly I half expect it to snap. His knuckles are pale, stark against the dried blood staining his cuffs.
He’s always controlled—calm, deliberate, methodical—but tonight, cracks are showing. His jaw is set in a way that screams fury, but it’s more than anger. It’s fear.
Not that he’ll admit it.
I shift slightly, wincing at the ache radiating from my shoulder. His eyes flick to me, quick and assessing, before snapping back to the road. The high walls of Alexey’s estate loom ahead, floodlights sweeping across the drive like silent sentinels.
“You don’t have to crush the steering wheel,” I say, my voice breaking the thick silence. “We survived.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t answer.
“Max,” I try again, softer this time.
“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice low and tight.
“It’s a scratch,” I reply lightly, though I feel the sting of every tiny cut. “I’ve had worse.”
His knuckles relax slightly, but his grip remains firm. “You shouldn’t have been hurt at all.”
The rawness in his tone surprises me, though I mask it with a small smile. “You should see the other guys.”
His lips twitch—just barely. “I did.”
The faint humor is a relief, even if it’s fleeting. I turn toward him, resting my head against the seat. “You think I don’t see it, don’t you?” I say quietly.
He glances at me, his brow furrowing. “See what?”
“How much this is eating at you.” I gesture faintly toward the bloodstains on his shirt. “You’re blaming yourself. Like you could’ve predicted an ambush in the middle of the city.”
His silence says everything.
“Max, I’m not made of glass,” I add, my voice firm but kind. “I knew what I was marrying into.”
His jaw tightens, and I can feel the storm brewing behind his calm exterior. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
I reach out, brushing my fingers over his hand where it rests on the console. His skin is warm, steady, but there’s a faint tremor beneath the surface.
“Yes, I did,” I say softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes flick to mine again, something unspoken passing between us. Then he exhales slowly, as if forcing himself to let go of some invisible weight.
The car slows as we approach the gates, the heavy iron creaking open. Armed guards step aside, their faces impassive as Maxsim pulls into the drive.
When he kills the engine, the silence feels heavier. For a moment, neither of us moves.
“We’ll stay here until I know the threat is contained,” he says finally, his voice brooking no argument.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask, arching a brow.
“No.”
He steps out of the car, circling around to open my door before I can protest. The cool night air brushes against my skin, carrying the faint scent of rain and earth. We walk in silence toward the house, his hand warm and steady against my lower back. But a few steps in, he stops abruptly, turning to face me. “Ari.”
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. I glance up, and the look in his eyes nearly steals the breath from my lungs. He’s unguarded in a way I’ve only seen once or twice, and it shakes me.
“I need to say something,” he begins.
“That sounds serious,” I say, forcing a small smile to mask the flutter in my chest.
“It is.”
He exhales slowly, stepping closer. The gravel crunches beneath his boots, the sound loud in the quiet night.
“When I married you,” he says, his voice low, “I didn’t know if it would ever feel… real.”
I swallow hard, his words cutting deeper than I expect.
“But this marriage,” he continues, his gaze steady and unwavering, “it’s becoming more important than I ever imagined.”
The rawness in his voice is shocking. The man who once told me he wasn’t capable of love is laying pieces of himself bare.
I don’t know how to respond, so I settle for honesty. “If you mean that,” I say quietly, “then let me help you. Let me prove I’m a true partner.”
“You’ve already proven it,” he says, his voice almost too soft to hear.
For a moment, the weight of his words hangs between us.
“I can’t lose you,” he says finally, his voice rough.
“You won’t,” I reply, squeezing his hand. “But you have to let me in, Max.”
His grip tightens briefly, but then he lets go, stepping back. “Let’s go inside.”
Gianna greets us in the foyer, her relief evident in the way her shoulders relax when she sees me.
“Ari,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “Thank God. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, though the ache in my arm says otherwise.
Maxsim steps forward, his voice brisk. “Where’s Alexey?”
“In the study,” Gianna replies. “He’s been on the phone with André and Franco, trying to figure out who orchestrated the attack.”
Maxsim nods curtly. “Take Ari to my suite. I’ll join you later.”
Gianna nods, but I grab my husband’s arm before he can leave. “Max,” I say, my voice soft. He glances down at me, his brow furrowing. “Thank you.”
His expression softens, and for a moment, he looks like he might say something. But then he nods and disappears down the hall.
Gianna leads me toward the stairs, her voice calm but reassuring. “You’re safe here,” she says, though I can sense the tension in her tone.
As we climb the staircase, flashes of the ambush replay in my mind—the screech of tires, the crack of gunfire, the chaos and fear.
Someone is trying to break us.
The thought hardens me. I stop on the landing, turning to Gianna. “Tell me everything you know about the families,” I say firmly. “The alliances, the cracks. Everything.”
She raises a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Planning to step into Maxsim’s world, are we?”
“Not planning,” I say, my voice steady. “Already there.”
Her smile widens, a glint of pride in her gaze. “Good. Carolina’s been keeping me updated since I stepped back from the day-to-day. Let’s start with Salvatore Santoro.”
As she begins to speak, I absorb every word, every detail.
The time for standing on the sidelines is over. It’s time to play the game.