Chapter Twenty-Four
Dmitri
I woke before Val did, the way I usually did no matter where we happened to be.
The island carried a quiet Las Vegas never allowed itself, no distant sirens threading through the dark, no constant hum of neon bleeding through curtains that never quite blocked it out completely.
I lay there a while, listening to the quiet in a way I rarely allowed myself back in the city, where every silence eventually resolved into some new demand on my attention. Here, the silence simply existed for its own sake, unbothered by anything requiring my immediate response.
For a brief moment, I allowed myself to simply exist inside that stillness, lying beside her without reaching for my phone, without running through the mental checklist of threats and contingencies that usually claimed my first waking thought.
Val slept beside me, her presence calm and entirely unguarded in a way I rarely saw during her waking hours.
Sleep had smoothed away the vigilance she’d built over the last two months, the readiness she carried even during ordinary conversations, the way some part of her always braced for the next threat to announce itself.
Here, as she lay asleep, none of that showed.
It was just her, breathing slow and even.
Something about the sight unsettled me in a way danger never quite managed to. Watching her this unguarded reminded me of how much I’d need to protect. It showed me exactly how much I stood to lose if I failed to finish what Vale had started properly.
I got up, careful not to wake her, and made my way to the back of the house.
She was already up when I arrived about an hour later.
She stood at the stove, moving through the small kitchen with more confidence than she’d carried the last time I saw her in the penthouse kitchen.
She cracked eggs into a bowl with the easy, practiced motion of someone who’d clearly cooked for herself for years before any of this began.
The domesticity of the scene struck me as almost foreign, given everything that had defined our life together up to this point—gunfire and tactical retreats rather than quiet mornings spent making breakfast in a borrowed kitchen.
I stood in the doorway a moment, simply watching her, some part of me reluctant to disturb whatever peace she’d found in the ordinary motions of preparing food for the two of us.
When she noticed me, her face brightened up with a small but real smile.
“You got up early,” she commented.
“Habit.” I crossed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside her rather than intruding on the actual cooking, which I had no particular skill at and no intention of embarrassing myself attempting. “You seem to know your way around this kitchen better than I expected.”
“Marisol showed me where everything was yesterday, while you were on the phone with Roman for the third time in an hour.”
“Was I really on with him that many times?”
“You really were.” She glanced at me sideways, something teasing in her expression. “For a man who told me this was supposed to be a genuine withdrawal, you spent an alarming amount of last night still working.”
“Old habits.”
“Apparently.” She plated the eggs alongside some fruit Marisol had left cut and ready in the refrigerator, sliding one plate across the counter toward me. “Eat. You look like you need it more than you’re willing to admit.”
“This is better than I would have expected,” I told her after the first bite.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment, Dmitri Golovin?”
“I love the sound of my full name on your lips,” I said, my voice just above a whisper, making her eyes flick back to her plate. “And it’s a real compliment.”
We kept eating silently, our eyes continually finding each other’s.
“This island is too quiet,” she said at one point, glancing out toward the water visible through the kitchen’s wide window. “I keep expecting to hear something. A car alarm, sirens, anything. It’s strange, how much I’ve apparently gotten used to noise as a kind of background reassurance.”
“You’ll adjust. Give it another day.”
“Or I’ll just start making my own noise to compensate.”
“Please don’t. I’ve grown fond of the quiet.”
“You say that like you actually get much of it, given how often your phone’s been ringing since we landed.” She raised an eyebrow at me, something dry and affectionate in the expression that reminded me of how much I loved this particular version of her.
“Fair point.”
The dynamic between us felt almost ordinary in a way that struck me as strangely grounding.
We were simply two people bantering over breakfast rather than navigating danger or the negotiations that had defined so much of our marriage so far.
I found myself relaxing into it more than I usually allowed.
My phone buzzed against the counter, and I glanced at it out of habit, seeing Roman’s name light the screen. Val noticed, her expression shifting slightly, some of the earlier lightness dimming.
“You should answer it.”
“It can wait a few minutes.”
“Dmitri.” She said my name gently, but with enough weight that I understood she meant it. “I’d rather you answer it now and actually be present with me afterward than have it sitting there distracting you the whole meal.”
I picked up, stepping toward the open doorway leading out onto the deck, keeping my voice low.
“Go ahead.”
“Nothing urgent,” Roman said, though something in his tone suggested otherwise. “Investigation’s moving. We’ve confirmed two more names connected to Varley’s information pipeline, both lower-level staff who had partial access without full context. Nikolai’s handling them quietly.”
“And Vale?”
“Quiet since the attack. Too quiet, honestly. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” I glanced back toward the kitchen, where Val had started clearing our plates, her attention politely elsewhere while I finished the call. “Any movement on his known properties? Anything suggesting he’s regrouping somewhere specific?”
“Nothing concrete yet. He’s gone quiet across every channel we normally monitor, which tells me he’s either genuinely paused to reassess, or he’s shifted to methods we haven’t identified yet. I’d bet on the second option, personally.”
“So would I. Keep me updated. I want daily reports, even if there’s nothing new to report.”
“Understood. How is she?”
I considered the question. “Better than I expected. Better than I deserve, honestly, given everything the last two months have put her through.”
“That’s something, Dmitri. Take care of her. I’ll handle things here.”
I ended the call and returned to the kitchen, where Val had moved on to rinsing our plates in the small sink. She had her back to me, humming something quietly under her breath that I didn’t recognize.
“Everything alright?” she asked, without turning.
“Nothing new. Roman’s handling loose ends from Varley’s information pipeline.”
“And Vale?”
“Quiet.”
She turned to face me properly then, like she’d already anticipated exactly where this conversation was heading. “How long are we staying?”
I’d expected the question sooner rather than later. Some part of me was surprised she’d waited this long to ask it directly.
“Not long,” I said honestly, because she’d earned nothing less than complete honesty. “Hiding doesn’t end Vale; it only delays him. Every day we stay here is a day he spends regrouping, adjusting, planning his next move without any pressure forcing his hand.”
“So we go back, and what? Wait for him to try again?”
“No.” I crossed the kitchen, taking her hands gently in mine, needing the contact as much for my own steadiness as for hers.
“He’s crossed too many lines now. The attack on our home wasn’t a warning shot, the way the reception was.
It was escalation, a direct assault on the one place I’d built specifically to keep you safe.
Escalation like that requires response. Not retreat. ”
Something shifted behind her expression, the earlier lightness of the morning giving way to the attentiveness she’d developed over the last two months whenever the conversation turned serious.
“What kind of response?”
“We go back soon. And when we do, I end this. Completely.” I held her gaze steadily, wanting her to understand exactly what I meant without needing to spell out every uncomfortable detail.
“Not another exchange of warnings, not another careful escalation designed to test each other’s limits.
An actual conclusion. Vale doesn’t get to keep circling this family indefinitely.
He sure as hell doesn’t get to keep using you as leverage. ”
She studied me carefully.
“This isn’t recklessness,” she said slowly, clearly working through it. “This is something else.”
“It’s resolution,” I confirmed gently. “I’ve spent months reacting to whatever Vale decided, always one step behind, always cleaning up damage after it had already happened. That ends. I’m done letting him dictate the terms of this.”
“What does that actually look like, practically? What does ‘ending it properly’ mean?”
I considered how much to tell her.
“It means finding him before he finds another opening to exploit. It means removing the threat entirely, rather than simply managing it one incident at a time. I won’t pretend that’s a clean or comfortable process, Val.
It isn’t. But it’s the only way out of this that actually ends with you safe permanently, rather than safe until his next calculated move. ”
“I understand. I mean, I don’t love it. But I understand.”
“That’s more than I expected, given everything.
” I studied her a moment, some quiet gratitude settling into my chest that I hadn’t fully anticipated feeling this morning.
“Most people in your position would have every reason to resent me for the world I’ve dragged them into.
You keep choosing to stay in it with open eyes instead. ”
“I’ve had about two months to adjust to the fact that your world doesn’t operate the way I used to think worlds operated.
I’m not going to pretend I love the violence of it.
I am going to trust that you know what you’re doing, because you’ve earned that trust every single time it actually mattered. ”
I felt the relief of being understood rather than simply tolerated in that moment. The ease of having a partner who could hold both fear and trust simultaneously without either one canceling out the other.
“How much longer, exactly?” she asked. “Before we go back.”
“A few more days. Long enough that Roman and Nikolai can finish tracing Varley’s remaining connections, long enough that we’re not walking back into the same vulnerability we left behind.
” I reached up, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.
“I want you to have this time, Val. Whatever’s waiting for us back there, I want you to actually rest first, properly, without half your attention still braced for the next threat. ”
“And you? Are you resting, or just pretending to while your mind stays back in Vegas the whole time?”
“Both, probably. I’m trying, though. More than I usually let myself try.”
“Right,” she remarked, chuckling.
“It is.” I pulled her closer, resting my forehead against hers, the quiet morning light spilling gold across the kitchen floor around us.
“I’m trying to be present here, with you.
And the pull away isn’t because I’m not enjoying it, because God knows I am.
So much that it could be addictive. You’re all shades of everything sweet, baby.
But it’s an old habit, being in surveillance mode.
I just can’t rest for long without doing something concerning your safety until this is over, at least. But I’m trying. ”
Her expression softened visibly. Then she kissed my jaw.
“I know, I understand,” she said.
We just held each other there, our hearts beating in sync while everything else remained silent around us.
“Thank you,” she added quietly.
“For what?”
“For always telling me the truth, even the uncomfortable parts. I know that being that honest with me about what’s coming doesn’t come easy to you, either. But you choose it anyway. For me.”
“I would choose death for you.”
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
Instead of voicing my negation, I decided to remain silent.
Whatever came next, whatever consequences I intended to finally deliver to a man who’d threatened everything I’d built and everyone I’d sworn to protect, it would come. Not today. But soon.
And it would be complete.