15. Ruslan
15
RUSLAN
It takes five goddamn days to pry Nadia from RMSAD custody.
Five days of calls, favors, threats, and negotiations with men who operate like shadows with too much power.
Five days of silence from Konstantin, too.
Not a fucking word.
I don’t know which pisses me off more.
The drive south from Site 17 is long and silent.
We’re hugging the coast now, where the Western Caucasus rises sharp and snow-dusted beyond the trees.
Nadia sits beside me, arms folded, mouth clamped shut.
She hasn't spoken since the moment she stepped into the car. And I haven’t asked her to. The silence is better. Gives me time to sort through the wreckage of my schedule, the damage she’s caused, the mess waiting for me back in Moscow... and the rising storm I’ve been pushing down for a week.
I should be in Vegas. With her.
But instead, I’m babysitting my reckless little sister.
We’ve nearly reached the outskirts of Dragunov Village when her voice finally slices through the thick air between us.
“I can understand the pain of your loss, Ruslan,” she says quietly. “But you’ve held onto it so long, it’s turned to poison.”
I don’t look at her. Just keep my eyes on the winding mountain road.
“Everyone’s lost something. That doesn’t mean they burn down the world.”
“Difference is,” I say evenly, “the world let them forget. They buried their grief, moved on. I don’t get that luxury. I have to remember. It’s my fucking job.”
“To keep it alive, or to use it?” she presses. “Because I can’t tell anymore if you're honoring the past... or using it as a weapon.”
The words hit a little too close. I inhale, hold it, let the burn settle in my chest, then release.
“What the fuck were you thinking breaking into a secure RMSAD site?” I turn to face her now. Turn the subject away from her accusations. My voice sharpens. “They already took your surgical license. Did you really want to give them another excuse to bury you?”
“You helped them take that from me,” she spits back. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”
I snap my gaze to the road. “You're lucky I stepped in. They wanted you locked away. You know what RMSAD does to its prisoners.”
“I’d rather be one of their lab rats than rot in the cage my brother built.”
“I gave you a chance, Nadia,” I grind out. “You pissed it away. So now you go under village watch.”
Her head jerks toward me. “You realize it’s the fucking 21st century, right? Village watch? Are you serious?”
“It worked before,” I say. “It’ll work again.”
“That was to keep virgins safe until their families married them off like breeding cattle.”
“Exactly.” I glance over and see her face pale.
“You are not seriously?—”
“You’re almost twenty-nine, Nadia,” I say, voice low, deliberate. “You haven’t married. I don’t think you’ve ever even taken a lover.”
She gapes at me. “What the fuck do you know about my love life?”
“Not much,” I lie. “But I don’t need to. You buried yourself in work. Now that you’ve burned that bridge, maybe it’s time to consider a different future.”
She lets out a disbelieving sound. “So what, you’re marrying me off like it’s the Dark Ages?”
“Oh, your days are going to get dark, little sister.” I shift in my seat. “Agafan and the watchers have their orders.”
“You bastard,” she hisses. “You’re not the same Ruslan I grew up with. The man I loved... he wanted to rebuild our territory without bloodshed. He had vision. Plans. Now? You’re just another tyrant dressing up revenge as justice.”
“I still have those plans,” I say flatly. “But honoring our ancestors means keeping the traditions that made us who we are.”
“And those traditions are why the world is divided,” she fires back. “Why hate and ignorance keep winning.”
I ignore it. We roll into the village, the tight-knit buildings silhouetted against the evening sun. A few kids play soccer near the fountain. The old clock tower still stands, worn and proud.
“I’m not a child anymore, Ruslan,” Nadia says as we stop in front of the town hall. “You can’t do this.”
“Then stop acting like one,” I say, as Pavel kills the engine. “You should’ve known better.”
“I was trying to help a friend.” Nadia tries to plead her case.
“By ending up in a cell? Yeah, that’s real helpful.”
“At least I still have friends to try and save,” she mutters, climbing out of the car.
The words hit like a punch. I sit still a second longer than I should, her voice ringing in my ears. Then I force the sting away and climb out just as Agafan walks out of the hall.
“Cousin,” he greets me with a nod. “It’s good to have you home.”
He turns to Nadia. “Hello, Nadia. We’ve got your room ready. You’ll be staying with Watcher Anna.”
“Awesome,” Nadia mutters, her tone thick with venom. She doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t even glance at me as she turns and heads down the path.
“She’ll come around,” Agafan says, watching her go.
“I don’t care if she does,” I lie again.
Agafan is shorter than me by nearly five inches, but his presence is solid. He’s more than my cousin—he’s my shield when I can’t be everywhere. He grew up in this village after Boris Mirochin murdered his parents in front of Agafan, who was ten at the time, and the entire town. Another lesson from the Mirochins in loyalty written in blood. Another reason to finish what I started.
“How is the building coming?” I ask him.
“We have made quite good progress in the past week,” he says. “The general’s men have helped a lot.”
“Good.” I nod and walk back to the car. Pavel pulls the back door open.
“Are you not going to brief the council?” Agafan watches me move to slide into the back seat of the SUV.
“I have business to attend to,” I tell him. “I will be back in ten days or so. I will brief them then.”
“We were hoping you’d at least stay one night,” Agafan presses.
“When I return, I will be staying for a few weeks,” I tell him. “We will have plenty of time to talk then.”
“Of course, Ruslan.” Agafan gives a slight bow and relents.
I pause. “In the meantime, start preparations for a Dragunov wedding ceremony.”
Agafan blinks. “You already have someone for Nadia?”
“No,” I say. “It’s for me.”
His brows rise. “May I ask who?”
“You’ll know when it’s time.” I clap his shoulder. “Trust me, I’ve chosen well.”
“No doubt,” he says. Then, after a beat and glancing into the SUV: “Where’s Konstantin?”
My jaw tightens. “On assignment.”
Something flashes behind his eyes—nothing but ice between them. But I don’t give a fuck. Konstantin serves me. Not the other way around.
Pavel closes the door and climbs behind the wheel.
I turn to Pavel. “Let’s go.”
“Back to the airport, boss?” Pavel asks once we’re inside.
“Yes.”
“Turn off your phone this time,” he mutters. “Or we’ll never leave Russia.”
I ignore that and check it anyway. Still no message. No update. No call. My pulse tightens. I dial a secure number.
It picks up on the third ring. “Boss.”
“Alexi,” I say. “Where’s Konstantin?”
“In Los Angeles.”
The answer hits harder than it should. What the fuck is he doing in Los Angeles. He’s supposed to be in Vegas.
“Is he alone?”
“No. He’s with Tara Craft.”
Fucking hell.
I inhale sharply. “In his penthouse?”
“Yes.”
The air in the car thickens and rage coils low in my gut.
“Stay on him. But do not engage with him.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hang up.
As the car pulls into the private airstrip, I walk toward my jet. Each step cuts sharper than the last. My head swirls with betrayal and fire.
“Tell the pilot,” I tell Pavel, “we’re going to Los Angeles.”
His brows shoot up. “What’s in LA?”
I climb the stairs without answering.
But in my head, the answer is clear.
The woman I should never have touched.
The woman I can’t stop wanting.
The woman who’s carrying another man’s child.
And the man who may just pay the price for getting too close to that woman.