Chapter 26
RODION
I sip my drink. Cold air bites through the open balcony. I should be inside. Playing the part. Shaking hands. Smiling like I belong here.
I married Ember and lied to her. I told her this was temporary, that we’d get my brothers off my back. I appeased the Bratva gods, knowing if I showed up married, my entire family would be cast in a better light.
I knew that.
And yet… and yet…
I can still feel her. I can still hear her.
Somewhere along the line, I fucked up.
This is too much.
I came on too strong, maybe.
Was it the stalking?
The forced marriage?
Or maybe fucking her against the window…
I smirk and shake my head.
I told myself I would do things right, but the more I stand out here I realize… I’m lying to myself.
I take another sip and polish it off.
It does nothing to steady my nerves.
I need more.
Ember thinks I don’t know what she’s doing, that I can’t see the way she’s unraveling beneath the weight of this.
I won’t have her looking over her shoulder the rest of her life for him. Shawn.
His name is a curse I want to rip out of our lives.
She deserves a life free from worry.
I don’t have many regrets, but at the very top of the list is that I didn’t kill him the second I found out from her exactly what he did.
I look inside. She’s standing near Zoya, her head tilted slightly. Even from here, I can see the way her hands tremble around the flute of champagne she hasn’t touched.
Trying to hold herself together.
But when the person next to Zoya turns to me, I see it isn’t Ember after all.
Where the hell is she?
Go to her.
I walk to her as if she cast a spell on me, and I’m helpless to fight against her incantation.
Fuck. Maybe she did. My little queen, the sorceress.
I push off the railing and head to her, back into the crowd. The faces around us blur—the Romanovs, Bratva leaders, our rivals, and our friends. Polished socialites wrapped in designer clothing, all pretending that an art auction charity event will somehow buy their way into the good graces of all. None of that matters.
I can’t find her.
“Rodion?” A heavy hand falls on my shoulder. Rafail.
Fuck.
“I was just telling Mikhail about what you found in California. One more minute. Can you tell him the rest?”
His grip tightens slightly as if to warn me. Mikhail Romanov stares at me, his gaze unyielding. “I heard you had some blowback. Tell me what happened. I have friends in California.”
I look for Ember but don’t see her.
“I will,” I say with a nod. “I need to talk with Ember first.”
“Rodion—”
I shrug out of Rafail’s grip and head for Ember.
“I’ll be right back.”
But I can’t find her. Anywhere.
The Romanov estate is an enigma, rooms upon rooms, and everywhere I go, I find more people, more uniformed staff, clinking glasses, and small talk. Everyone… but her.
I barely stifle the need to scream her name, to raze this fucking party to the ground to find her.
I should’ve stayed right next to her.
Logically, I know I shouldn’t fear the worst. The Romanovs have a legion of guards and protective measures, but tonight… tonight, there are so many people.
Where is she?
I weave through the crowd, my pulse hammering. The air in here feels suffocating, and my patience is at an all-time low. Where the fuck are you, Ember?
That’s when I see it, the faint shimmer of white turning around a corner at the far end of a corridor.
Her dress.
I move fast, my steps silent against the marble, but when I turn the corner? Nothing.
Just another empty hall.
“Ember?” No response.
I find Polina and Zoya chatting in a library. “Hey,” I say, trying to keep myself calm when I run my fingers through my hair. “Have you two seen Ember? I can’t find her anywhere.”
“She was outside?” Polina says. “I told her we had open access to the garden…”
My heart races. It doesn’t matter if she went outside because the Romanovs have this place locked down tighter than the Kremlin.
But still… still…
I head to the garden when I hear a scream.
I turn the corner, my pulse racing and gun in hand, when I see—I come to a halt.
It isn’t Ember but a woman I’ve never met before, her cheeks flushed. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!” she chides a young man who’s laughing his ass off.
I turn away before they see me.
Not Ember.
I tear through the frigid gardens, looking for a clue. She couldn’t just disappear…
And then I know. I know.
I won’t let Ember go. I told her what I thought would appease her, knowing that my brothers wouldn’t accept anything less. I told her what I thought would keep her here, knowing that if she’s with me, I’m the one who will protect her, no matter the cost.
I know I love her. I love her feisty, indomitable spirit and quirkiness. I love that she raves about the books that bring her joy while she clings to her independence. I love her fire and defiance, the way she burns brightly even when the world wants to snuff her out.
I love the way she challenges me with a single glance. There’s a stubbornness in her that grates on me—and I love every fucking second.
I love her creativity and vision, her bravery.
She might blush and pretend she doesn’t like what I have to offer, but I see the spark that craves not just flirting with danger but embracing it.
I need to find her. As I turn over room after room, fear begins to grow.
I’m so caught up in my quest to find her, I’ve completely forgotten the trackers she hates. I hide in a doorway, pull up my phone, and quickly check. A red flash warns me on the screen: Alert: elevated heart rate, oxygen levels dropping.
Fuck.
She’s panicking.
I slide the screen over to the tracker and see the blinking dot that shows me where she is. I hoped I would find it somewhere right here in the house, but my worst suspicions are confirmed—the blinking dot moves erratically. Sharp turns, wrong paths. Ember isn’t running.
She’s being taken.
My chest constricts as I zoom in and track the rapid shift of her location. West gate.
I sprint through the estate, slipping through the side entrance just in time to catch the rumble of tires on gravel and the squealing tires of a black SUV.
Shawn.
I don’t need to see his face to know. That bastard.
I pull my gun from my waistband and race toward the line of cars waiting for valet parking, their keys conveniently still in the engines. I slide into the driver’s seat of the one at the very end, a sleek black Mercedes.
My phone vibrates. A message from Ember’s tracking app.
Signal lost.
My gripe tights on the leather steering wheel. I try to soothe the rapid beating of my heart with another deep breath. I have to stay focused and alert. Too many times, I’ve lost my temper and fucked up. This time… this time will be different.
Shawn should’ve killed me when he had the chance.