Chapter 16 #2
Liev hesitates for only a moment before answering. “I don’t ask my men to do anything I wouldn’t do.” He slips his phone out of his pocket, sends a quick text, distracted by glancing back up at me. “We won’t have to worry about them anymore; this gang. They won’t be coming after us after tonight.”
“You’re wiping them out.”
“They chose to take the job.”
The phone in his hand rings. His voice stays even as he begins speaking in Russian to whoever is on the other end of the line. The instructions are short and efficient, the kind that don’t leave room for interpretation.
By the time he hangs up, the decision has been set in motion.
For a moment, I just sit there watching him.
This is the part of him I hadn’t fully seen yet.
I knew what he was. I understood what it meant to be a Bratva leader. In Savannah, it was my understanding that he orchestrated many of Kazimir’s orders. I did not know he was so intimately involved. I did not know that he was the one holding the knife.
But knowing something intellectually differs from watching it happen in front of you.
There is no hesitation in him. No debate. Just a clean, ruthless response to anyone who threatens his territory.
“You’re quiet,” he says.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how you handle problems.”
His gaze holds mine for a moment. “Does it bother you?” Silence envelopes us both, making the distance between us seem smaller despite how massive the shop is. “I notice you break things, but you don’t finish them.”
“No,” I say finally. “It’s just…different seeing it up close.”
“If you wait,” he says, “it won’t take long. But I understand if you don’t want to be here, if you don’t want to go home with me.”
I take him in, this unexpected husband. The man who keeps breaking my expectations. Even when he stood before me in that church, I didn’t understand that underneath all that tailored perfection was a ruthless man. I’m seeing it tonight, and he’s been showing me, slowly, in snippets.
I think back to the conversation he had with Kazimir, the one that I overheard, but pretended I didn’t. The Savannah Bratva leader’s warning barely audible on the other side of the car: Try not to fall in love with her before you figure out who’s trying to kill her.
That’s crazy, ridiculous. A man like Liev Demsky wouldn’t be reckless enough to fall in love with a woman who keeps running from him. No matter how many times he promises to protect me.
“I’ll wait,” I tell him, ignoring the waver in my voice. His blue-grey eyes flash like lightning in a storm, surprised. He says nothing—only nods, and then turns away, disappearing into the shadows.
* * *
The ride back to the house is quiet. The city lights slide past the windows while the driver follows the coastal highway toward the house, then turns inland. My laptop rests closed beside me; the investigation paused until morning.
Somewhere along the way, exhaustion sneaks up on me.
At first, it’s just a heaviness behind my eyes.
Then the steady rhythm of the car blurs the edges of my thoughts.
The last week rushes back through my mind all at once.
The shooting, the call from Viktor, Liev disappearing for several nights to find the perpetrators; not knowing that we were hunting for more than one group.
My body finally seems to realize it’s allowed to relax.
I don’t remember slipping into sleep.
One moment I’m watching the lights reflecting across the ponds behind the trees. The next my head is tipped against the seat and the world has gone soft around the edges. When the car stops, I wake just enough to realize we’re back at the house.
I keep my eyes closed.
I’m not sure why.
Maybe because I want to see what he does when he thinks I’m not watching.
The door opens quietly, and then there’s a pause. Then Liev’s voice murmurs something to the driver in Russian before the cool night air brushes across my face.
A second later strong arms slide carefully beneath me.
I almost flinch in surprise. Instead, I stay perfectly still as he lifts me out of the car.
He carries me easily, like I weigh nothing at all.
The steady movement of his steps makes it clear he’s done this before, though I can’t imagine with whom.
He has a daughter; I remind myself. He has had a whole other life I don’t know anything about.
I haven’t wanted to know about it because it might make him too real.
My cheek rests against the solid warmth of his chest. His heartbeat is slow and even.
The front door opens with a quiet click, and the house wraps around us as he walks through the dark hallways. It feels like home, and that makes my heart ache.
Liev carries me upstairs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s like we didn’t just hunt down a gang together or snuff out the lives of two men and half a dozen others who threatened us.
Confusion flickers through my thoughts as I lie there pretending to sleep, stretching slowly beneath the covers that Liev has pulled gently over my body.
Because this careful version of him—the one who makes sure my head doesn’t bump against the doorframe and who carefully removed my tactical pants, but didn’t dare touch bare skin—doesn’t match the ruthless man who just ordered an entire gang erased.
And I don’t know which one I’m supposed to believe.