14. Alexei
ALEXEI
I wake before dawn, as I always do. For several heartbeats, I remain still, staring at the ceiling while rain taps against the windows. The mansion is silent. No footsteps move through the corridor outside our room. No voices carry up from the kitchen below. The house still sleeps.
Maggie is asleep beside me. I turn toward her before I can stop myself.
She’s lying on her side beneath the comforter, one hand tucked under her cheek, and her brown hair spread across the pillow in unruly waves.
During the past week, color has returned to her face.
The bruising on her shoulder has faded to faint traces beneath her skin, and the cough that lingered after the fire no longer wakes her during the night.
But she still reaches for me in her sleep.
Last night, she wrapped herself around me sometime after midnight, pressing close without ever opening her eyes. I haven’t slept alone since the night of the fire. At some point, this became normal.
A few months ago, this room was simply where I slept.
I woke before dawn, trained, worked, and returned home to an empty bed and a house that always felt too large for just Ivy and me.
Now there’s Maggie. There’s Ivy racing through the halls with Winston trotting behind her.
There are coloring books on the coffee table, Daisy asleep on a sun puddle, and half-finished cups of tea appearing in every room Maggie occupies.
There’s also a child growing beneath Maggie's heart. My child.
I’m still getting used to that. I’ve spent most of my life preparing for threats, wars, negotiations, betrayals, and bloodshed. None of that prepared me for another life that depends upon me in a way entirely different from Ivy. And it didn’t prepare me for loving Maggie.
I brush several strands of hair from her face. She sighs softly and turns into my pillow. I find myself smiling. Then I leave the bed before she wakes and begins arguing that she’s well enough to return to full duty at the shelter.
By seven o’clock, Mrs. Bennett moves through the kitchen carrying platters laden with scrambled eggs, biscuits, bacon, fruit, and enough food to feed an army. The scent of coffee fills the room. Sunlight streams through tall windows overlooking the gardens.
Roman sits at the head of the table, reading messages on his phone.
Luka stands near the windows, speaking into an earpiece.
Maggie enters moments later wearing jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt with the shelter logo across the front. She still looks tired. The past week has left its mark on all of us. Yet there is strength in the way she moves, and determination in the lift of her chin.
I rise from my chair before I think better of it.
Her face brightens when she sees me. “Good mornin’,” she says, leaning up to kiss me.
Roman lowers his phone. “I see domestic life continues to corrupt you.”
Maggie laughs as she slides into the chair beside mine. “You know, most people say good mornin’ before insultin’ folks.”
“I’ve known my brat too long for unnecessary pleasantries.”
Before Maggie can answer, footsteps thunder across the hallway. Ivy bursts into the kitchen wearing a blue dress covered in tiny flowers, her backpack already hanging from her shoulders.
“Papa!” she announces. “Mrs. Bennett made cinnamon rolls because it's my first day back.”
Mrs. Bennett beams. “A special occasion deserves a special breakfast.”
Ivy climbs into her chair beside Maggie and launches into a detailed explanation about everything she plans to do at school.
“I need to tell Sophie about Winston. And Emma got a hamster right before break, so maybe she brought pictures. And today is art day, and after school I have dance.”
Maggie smiles into her coffee. “Sounds like you've got a busy schedule.”
I stare at the printed schedule lying beside my plate.
Maggie notices.
Of course, she notices.
“Alexei,” she says, amusement warming her voice, “she's excited.”
“I’m aware.”
“You're glarin’ at the school schedule.”
“The schedule is inadequate.”
Roman makes no effort to hide his amusement.
“What precisely is inadequate?” Maggie asks.
I tap the paper. “There’s a thirty-two-minute period between school dismissal and dance class arrival. I don’t like unnecessary transit windows.”
Maggie shakes her head. “Honey, children all over Savannah survive thirty-two-minute car rides every single day.”
I set my coffee cup down. “Other children are irrelevant.”
Ivy sighs dramatically. “Papa.”
“Yes, solnyshko?”
“You worry too much.”
Roman actually laughs.
I ignore him.
Mrs. Bennett places fresh biscuits on the table while Luka approaches.
“The school approved Agent Elena Ramirez,” he says. “Background check completed. Faculty introductions already arranged.”
Ivy brightens. “Miss Elena is nice.”
Maggie glances toward me. “Female security?”
“Former Secret Service. I vetted her personally.”
She nods slowly. “That's probably easier for Ivy.”
I continue before anyone can suggest reducing security.
“Agent Ramirez will remain inside the school. Two additional men will remain nearby throughout the day. Luka handles transportation personally. Dance school security remains unchanged. No one other than Maggie, myself, Luka, Viktor, or Agent Ramirez may collect Ivy.”
Maggie sets down her coffee. “Alexei, don't you think all this might make her feel different from the other kids?”
“I would rather she complain about security for the next ten years than spend one day without it.”
Maggie's eyes fill with understanding rather than argument. She reaches beneath the table and threads her fingers through mine.
An hour later, our SUV pulls beneath the covered entrance at Ivy's school. Children hurry toward the building carrying backpacks almost as large as they are. Parents stand talking near the entrance. Teachers greet students by name.
Agent Ramirez waits beside the front doors, dressed in professional clothing that reveals nothing about her true occupation. As our SUV comes to a stop, she leaves her position by the entrance and walks toward us, attentive without appearing conspicuous.
I step from the vehicle first. Old instincts take over as I assess the exits, sightlines, and every potential threat around the school entrance.
Luka positions himself near the rear passenger door while another security vehicle parks farther along the curb.
Ivy climbs out between Maggie and me. She studies us both, her backpack bouncing against her shoulders as she rocks back and forth on her sneakers.
Then she smiles. “You two look nervous.”
Maggie laughs. “Maybe a little.”
I kneel in front of my daughter, straightening the strap of her backpack even though it doesn’t need adjusting. “You call if you need anything.”
Ivy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I know.”
“You stay with Agent Ramirez.”
“I know,” she repeats, looking toward the school doors where children stream inside.
“You don’t leave school grounds.”
“Papa.” Ivy drags out the word, her face full of patient exasperation.
I stop.
Before I can add another instruction, Ivy throws her arms around my neck.
“I'll be okay,” she whispers. “Maggie says brave people can still be scared.”
My throat tightens, and I kiss the top of her head. “I love you, solnyshko.”
“I love you too.”
She hugs Maggie next.
Maggie crouches beside her, brushing a curl behind Ivy's ear. “You have fun today, sugar.”
“I will.”
Then Ivy takes Agent Ramirez's hand and heads toward the school entrance without another glance backward.
I watch until she disappears through the doors. Only when she is completely out of sight do I finally exhale.
Warm fingers slide into mine.
“Alexei.”
I turn.
Maggie stands next to me, the morning sun bringing out the freckles across her nose. Her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“She's gonna be just fine.”
I look back toward the school entrance. I hope Maggie is right. Hope, however, has never been a security strategy.
By eleven o'clock, I’ve read the same quarterly report three times and absorbed none of it.
Numbers blur across my computer screen. Cargo manifests, acquisition proposals, profit projections. Under normal circumstances, I would have reviewed and signed everything within an hour. Today, I have spent nearly two hours staring at the same documents.
I find myself looking out over Savannah Harbor. Container ships move steadily across the water below while cranes load cargo, and trucks move in and out of the distribution yard. Black Tide continues operating exactly as it should. I’m the only part of the company not functioning properly.
The image of Ivy walking through those school doors has replayed in my mind all morning.
Logically, I know she’s safe. Luka receives updates every thirty minutes.
Agent Ramirez remains inside the school.
Two men watch the perimeter, and another vehicle sits near the dance academy. Logic changes nothing.
A knock sounds against my office door before Luka steps inside without waiting for permission, which means he already knows I haven’t accomplished anything productive during the past hour.
“You haven’t signed a single document since I arrived forty minutes ago,” he says, closing the door behind him.
I lean back in my chair and set my pen aside. “You appear unusually observant today.”
“You appear distracted,” Luka replies.
I stay silent.
Luka watches me before nodding toward the hallway. “The gym is empty.”
I close the file on my desk and rise from my chair. “Lead the way.”
Five minutes later, Luka and I enter the private training facility located on the executive level of Black Tide headquarters.
We stop in the adjoining locker room, where I exchange my suit jacket, dress shirt, and slacks for black training pants and a fitted T-shirt.
By the time we step onto the gym floor, some of the tension riding beneath my skin has already begun demanding an outlet.