Chapter Four
Alexei knew he was never going to fall asleep. He'd spent the better part of an hour lying on his back, staring at the dark ceiling above his bed while the digital clock on his bedside table ticked relentlessly forward.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same pair of dark, unreadable eyes staring back at him. The assassin. She'd occupied his thoughts all day, and now she was stealing his sleep.
With an irritated sigh, he shoved the comforter off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Looks like I won’t be getting any sleep tonight,” he mumbled to no one in particular.
He crossed to the wardrobe and pulled on a faded charcoal t-shirt that had survived years of workouts and countless washes. A pair of black jogging pants followed, along with worn running shoes he'd owned long before he'd started wearing tailored suits every day.
If sleep refused to come, he'd exhaust himself instead, and running had always helped. When he was younger, after arguments with his father, he'd disappear for miles until the ache in his lungs drowned out everything else.
Tonight didn't feel much different, except this time, the person haunting his thoughts wasn't Viktor Volkov. It was a woman with a rifle. Alexei grabbed his phone and keys, then headed downstairs.
The mansion was asleep, and only the muted glow of hallway lights illuminated the polished marble floors.
A few members of the overnight staff quietly greeted him as he passed.
Outside, the night air carried the cool bite of early morning.
He had barely stepped onto the front steps when a voice stopped him.
"Sir."
Alexei resisted the urge to sigh. One of the night security guards was already approaching. Sergei was in his late fifties, broad-shouldered despite his age. Gray threaded through his dark beard, and deep lines framed his eyes.
Sergei had worked for the Volkov family longer than Alexei had been alive. He'd once served Alexei's father, and now he served the sons.
"I'm just going for a run," Alexei said.
"I'll accompany you,” Sergei said.
“That’s not necessary,” Alexei said.
"It's protocol."
"I'll be fine."
Sergei didn't move. "I'll accompany you."
Alexei rubbed a hand over his face. "Sergei..."
"Mr. Volkov."
"I've been running these streets for years,” Alexei pointed out.
"And two nights ago someone tried to kill you."
That shut him up. Sergei folded his arms.
"If Mr. Maksim or Mr. Dimitri discover I allowed you outside alone after an assassination attempt..."
Alexei could practically hear his brothers already. Maksim would spend an hour lecturing him, and Dimitri would never let him forget it. He wasn't in the mood for either.
"Fine," Alexei muttered.
Sergei nodded once. "I'll keep my distance."
"You'd better,” Alexei grumbled.
They started through the front gates. The city felt different at three in the morning, quiet and almost peaceful. Streetlights painted long golden streaks across damp pavement while the occasional taxi drifted through otherwise empty roads.
Alexei settled into an easy jog. The familiar rhythm soothed him almost immediately, and all that mattered was his breathing, footsteps, and heartbeat.
Everything else faded. Alexei gradually increased his pace.
The estate disappeared behind them, and a park slipped past on his left.
A row of expensive townhouses blurred on his right.
He glanced over one shoulder. Sergei remained behind him, still running and looking determined. The older man's breathing had become noticeably heavier, however.
Alexei couldn't help smiling, and Sergei caught the look.
"Don't."
"What?" Alexei drawled.
"I know that face."
"I don't know what you're talking about,” Alexei said.
"You've started speeding up."
Alexei grinned. "You used to keep up."
"I also used to have knees,” the old man said with a grin.
Alexei laughed quietly. The sound surprised him, because it had been a while since he felt this lighthearted. He eased his pace. Sergei had spent decades protecting the Volkov family. The least Alexei could do was spare the man an unnecessary sprint before sunrise.
"Thank you," Sergei muttered between breaths.
"Don't mention it."
They rounded another corner. Alexei turned his attention back toward the pavement. Someone stood ahead, a large man clad in an oversized jacket despite the mild temperature. The guy shoved his hands deep into enormous pockets, his features hidden beneath a hood. Probably homeless.
Alexei shifted slightly to pass, but at the last second, the stranger stepped directly into his path. Alexei instinctively stopped.
"Sorry."
The figure didn't answer.
Instead, Alexei caught sight of a glint. Metal flashed beneath the streetlight, and time slowed. His pulse lurched, and instinct screamed. That wasn't a phone or keys, but a weapon.
“Alexei, duck!" A woman's voice shattered the silence.
Alexei didn't think, he simply reacted. His knees painfully hit the pavement just as something cracked through the stillness. A deafening report echoed between the buildings.
The bundled stranger staggered violently, and Alexei finally considered it safe to look up. A familiar figure burst from the darkness at full speed. She wore black clothes, her dark hair was pulled back, and she had already raised her gun.
It was her, the woman from the rooftop. The assassin. She was running straight toward them. Another shot split the night. The attacker dove behind a parked car, disappearing from sight.
“Stay down!" she shouted.
Alexei remained crouched as shattered glass exploded from a nearby vehicle. Sergei had already drawn his sidearm.
"Mr. Volkov! I’m here,” Sergei yelled.
"I'm fine!"
The woman never looked at Alexei. Her attention remained locked on the attacker. She moved with astonishing speed, crossing the street while using parked vehicles for cover. She wasn't trying to kill him. Hell, she was protecting him. The realization struck him with startling clarity.
The bundled attacker emerged again, weapon raised. Everything happened at once. The woman fired. The attacker stumbled backward but didn't go down. Instead, he pivoted and fired toward her.
She tried to move, but she wasn’t fast enough. She cried out as the impact spun her sideways. Her shoulder slammed against the side of a car before she collapsed hard onto the pavement.
A curse tore itself from Alexei’s throat before he realized he'd spoken. The attacker recovered first, and he lifted his weapon again. Pointing directly at the woman now lying motionless several yards away. Sergei raised his own pistol.
"I've got him in my sights!” Sergei yelled.
"No!” Alexei barked.
Sergei thankfully hesitated. The woman was too close and was in Sergei’s line of fire. One mistake could hit her instead of his attacker.
"Hold your fire!" Alexei told Sergei.
He didn’t wait. In fact, he was already moving. Years of combat training took over. He closed the distance before the attacker fully registered him.
The man swung around. Alexei crashed into him shoulder first. The force sent both of them sprawling onto the asphalt. The weapon skidded somewhere into the darkness.
The attacker recovered surprisingly quickly. He drove Alexei backward. Alexei caught himself against the pavement just before another blow landed. The man's size became immediately obvious.
He outweighed Alexei considerably, and he had all that raw strength. Alexei relied on speed instead. The attacker lunged again, but Alexei twisted aside. The movement gave him just enough room to reach beneath the waistband of his jogging pants.
He wrapped his fingers around the familiar handle. The compact knife never left him, not in business, home, or even while he went out running. He drew it in one smooth motion. The attacker froze for the briefest instant, but it was long enough.
Alexei surged forward. The struggle became desperate and messy. Neither man spoke, and only strained breathing and the scrape of shoes against asphalt filled the street.
Somewhere behind him, he heard Sergei shouting into his radio. He was calling for additional security and probably medical assistance. The attacker tried to break away, but Alexei refused to let him.
A final collision sent them both crashing against the hood of a parked car. The impact echoed in Alexei’s ears. When the struggle finally ended, silence rushed back with startling force. Alexei remained bent over, chest heaving.
His heartbeat thundered inside his ears. Sergei reached him seconds later.
"It's over,” Sergei said.
Alexei barely heard him. He searched his surroundings frantically for her. Where was she? Finally, he spotted her, and she was still lying exactly where she'd fallen. She hadn't moved from her spot, he realized.
Fear punched the air from his lungs. Alexei shoved past Sergei.
"Call an ambulance!" Alexei ordered.
"It's already on the way!"
He dropped beside her. Closer now, he could see how pale she'd become beneath the streetlights. A strand of dark hair had escaped her ponytail, partially hiding her face. He brushed it away almost without thinking.
The simple gesture stopped him cold. He'd never touched her before. Her skin felt cool, and she looked much younger than he thought somehow, certainly less intimidating.
Without those sharp, calculating eyes fixed on him, she almost appeared peaceful. Too peaceful. His stomach twisted.
"Stay with me,” he murmured, but there was no response.
He carefully supported her head. Her breathing remained shallow but steady. Relief swept through him so intensely his shoulders sagged.
"You're all right," he said quietly, unsure whether he was reassuring her or himself.
For the second time in less than seventy-two hours, the mysterious assassin had saved his life, except this time, she paid the price. Blue emergency lights began reflecting off nearby buildings in the distance.
More members of Volkov security poured into the street. Voices overlapped, orders were shouted, and someone began securing the area. Alexei heard none of it. His entire world had narrowed to the unconscious woman in his arms.
Nothing made sense anymore. She'd accepted a contract to kill him, then deliberately spared him. Now she'd thrown herself into the path of another assassin to save him again. People didn't risk their lives for strangers, not in his world and not without a reason.
As he looked down at her pale face, one certainty settled firmly in his mind. He wasn't letting her disappear this time. When she opened those dark eyes again, she was going to answer every question that had been tormenting him. However, until then, he wasn't leaving her side.