Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAMILLA
The recoil kicks into my wrist as the heavy glass shatters outward. The two rounds hit the gunman squarely in the chest and neck. He drops like a stone before he can even pull his trigger, his shotgun clattering harmlessly against the asphalt. I can’t believe it! I did it!
Dmitri spins around, eyes wide as he realizes how close he just came to dying, and looks straight up at the shattered window of the SUV—and at me holding the smoking gun.
Across the dark road, Maksim hears the shots, his head snapping toward the SUV.
When his eyes land on me sitting exposed in the broken window with a firearm in my hand, his face turns into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
His rage is far worse than anything he directed at Viktor or Igor.
I put myself in harm's way, breaking his explicit command to stay down, and he looks ready to tear the rest of the car apart himself.
Fueled by sheer, terrifying anger, Maksim doubles down on the assault. He moves with relentless, ruthless aggression, driving the remaining attackers back until those who aren't bleeding out on the highway are scrambling back into their trucks, speeding off into the darkness.
The heavy silence returns, broken only by the crackle of burning tires and the harsh breathing of surviving guards.
Maksim doesn't waste a single second checking on his men or assessing the tactical damage. He strides directly toward the SUV, his heavy boots crunching on broken glass. He reaches the driver's door, slams the unlock button, and rips the rear door open so violently the hinges groan.
Before I can say a word, his large hands lock onto my waist and yank me completely out of the car, pulling me into the cool night air.
"Are you completely out of your fucking mind?!" he roars, his voice echoing off the surrounding trees.
He doesn't give me time to answer. His hands are everywhere—rough, desperate, and trembling as he runs them over my shoulders, my arms, my chest, and my ribs, frantically checking every inch of my body for blood or bullet wounds.
He turns me around, checking my back, his eyes wildly scanning the severe black dress to ensure not a single drop of my blood has been spilled.
"I told you to stay down!" he snaps, pulling me hard against his chest, his heart hammering wildly against my cheek as he holds me so tight I can barely breathe. "If a stray bullet had caught you through that window, Camilla, I would have burned this entire city to the ground!"
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice softening as the adrenaline finally begins to dip, leaving me exposed to the sheer terror in his voice. I rest my hands against his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath his shirt. "I just wanted to help. I couldn't just sit there and watch."
Before he can launch into another furious lecture, heavy footsteps crunch on the glass beside us. Dmitri approaches, his face smudged with soot and his shoulder bleeding slightly, but his expression is filled with profound respect.
"Camilla," Dmitri says, pausing to look directly at me. He dips his head in a low, genuine bow. "Thank you. If you hadn't taken that shot, I wouldn't be standing here."
Maksim’s jaw tightens, the protective rage still rolling off him in waves. He doesn't want to hear about my bravery right now; he only wants me out of the line of fire. He snaps at his right-hand man, his voice cutting through the smoke.
"Get in the car, Dmitri. Get us moving. We’re heading home. Now."
Dmitri nods quickly, moving to coordinate the surviving vehicles. Maksim doesn't let go of my waist, ushering me back into the SUV. The doors lock once more, and the remains of our convoy speed away from the carnage, tearing through the night toward the safety of the estate.
We don't speak a word on the ride back. The silence isn't filled with anger this time, but a heavy, exhausting aftermath of survival.
Back at the mansion, the gates slam shut behind us. Maksim doesn't wait for the guards to open our doors; he pulls me out of the vehicle and guides me straight through the grand foyer, up the stairs, and into our private suite, bypassing everyone.
He leads me directly into the massive, marble-tiled bathroom. The air is cool, but he immediately turns on the taps to the deep, freestanding tub, letting hot water cascade down, filling the room with a thick, comforting steam.
I stand near the vanity, suddenly feeling the weight of the entire night crashing down on me. There is smoke in my hair, gunpowder residue on my hands, and blood splattered across his clothes.
Maksim walks over to me. The feral fury from the highway has completely melted away, replaced by a quiet, intense focus.
His large hands reach for the zipper at the back of my dress, sliding it down with agonizing slowness.
He helps me step out of the ruined fabric, his eyes tracing every inch of my skin to double-check, one last time, that I am truly unharmed.
He strips out of his own blood-stained shirt and tactical gear, leaving it in a heap on the floor.
"Come here," he murmurs, his voice low and incredibly gentle.
He steps into the steaming water first, then reaches out his hands to pull me in with him.
As I slide into the warmth, the water rising around us, the tension in my muscles finally shatters.
I lean back against his broad chest, and he wraps his arms around me from behind, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
There is no dominance here, no rough demands or testing of boundaries. Instead, the scene becomes deeply tender and sensual.
Maksim picks up a soft cloth, soaking it in the warm water.
With slow, deliberate strokes, he begins to wash the soot and sweat from my arms and shoulders.
His touch is remarkably light for a man who just killed, his fingers tracing the curve of my collarbone with a reverence that makes my breath hitch.
He cleans my hands, rubbing away the residue of the gun I fired, before pressing a soft kiss to the center of my palm.
"You shouldn't have done it," he whispers against my skin, his chest expanding deeply against my back as he holds me close in the water. "But you are magnificent, Camilla."
I turn slightly in his embrace, looking up into his eyes, now completely soft and clear. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning into his warmth as he takes care of me, washing away the violence of the night until there is nothing left between us but the quiet, undeniable bond of survival.
The water ripples around us, warm and soothing, but the unanswered questions from tonight still linger in the air. I reach up, my thumb gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
"Why, Maksim?" I ask softly, my dark eyes searching his. "Why are you so obsessed with keeping me safe? It’s more than just protecting an alliance, isn't it? Back on that road... you looked terrified. Not of the guns, but of losing me."
Maksim closes his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a long, heavy breath that seems to carry years of hidden pain. When he opens them again, the icy walls he keeps around his heart are completely gone, leaving him raw and exposed.
“Tell me,” I insist. “There’s something, isn’t there? I want to know. Tell me. Please, Maksim.”
"When I was twelve years old, a rival faction broke through our estate perimeter," he begins, his voice melting into a quiet, raspy murmur. "They didn't come for my father. They came for my mother."
My heart stabs in my chest as I listen, my hand resting over his beating heart.
"I hid in the closet, just as I was told," Maksim continues, staring off into the steam.
"I watched through the slats in the door as they took her life right in front of me, just to send a message to the syndicate.
My father... he was never the same. Grief completely destroyed him.
He became a ghost, sloppy and reckless, until he died a few years later.
I was forced to step up and inherit a bloody empire when I was too young. "
He looks back down at me, his fingers gently tangling in my damp hair, his grip tight with a desperate, quiet urgency.
"Since that day, Nastya became my only weakness—the one person in this world anyone could use to destroy me," he confesses softly.
"I have spent my entire life terrified that the women close to me will be targeted, tortured, or stolen to break me.
When you came into my life, Camilla... when I saw you standing in that dark road holding a gun...
I realized I couldn't survive watching it happen again. "
The final piece of the puzzle falls into place.
The overwhelming protectiveness, the suffocating control, the sheer panic in his eyes when I stepped into danger—it wasn't about distrust or viewing me as fragile.
It was the deeply rooted trauma of a boy who had watched his world burn, now terrified of losing another woman.
I understand him now, better than I ever have before. The walls between us don't just crack; they crumble completely into dust.
"I'm not going anywhere, Maksim," I whisper, my heart overflowing with an aching tenderness for the man holding me. "And I am not going to let anyone destroy us."
I lift my head, tilting my chin up, and press my lips gently to his. The kiss starts slow and sweet, tasting of warm water and quiet promises, before deepening into something profound and consuming—a silent oath that no matter what war comes to our doorstep, we will face it together.
Then, fueled by the sheer relief of survival and the raw vulnerability between us, I break the rhythm.
I yank my mouth away from his, my breath hitching as I drag my lips down the sharp line of his jaw. I press hot, fevered kisses into the sensitive skin of his neck, trailing down to the broad expanse of his collarbone.